Wood Witch and the Bounty Hunter

Ronan cursed rather colorfully when he realized that Flora had been drugged. He had thought for a moment she’d just had a bad bowl of stew but when he saw a bounty hunter he knew striding toward them across the tavern, he knew that wasn’t the case.

“Hargrove,” he said, lip curling in annoyance. “What are you doing here with a designated kill on sight target?”

“You’re mistaken, Gordon,” Ronan snapped back. “You’ve just drugged a woman for no reason.”

Gordon snorted. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Do you really want an honest answer to that question?”

Gordon scowled. “You always were an arrogant, smart-assed little shit with a big mouth, you know that?”

“I never knew you had such a crush on me, Gordon.”

“Shut the fuck up, Hargrove. I’m taking the girl. You had your chance to earn her bounty.”

“See, that’s not gonna work for me,” Ronan replied. Gordon made a move as if to yank Flora from her seat. He had a heavy blade in his other hand, primed to take her head off, no doubt. Ronan moved with cat-like speed, riding to his feet and kicking Gordon back. Gordon cursed loudly at him and swung a fist at his face. Ronan had already picked up his chair and easily blocked the punch with it before smashing Gordon in the face with it. Flora slumped over and banged her head on the table. Ronan winced but he’d have to deal with Gordon before he could help her.

The man lunged at him, bleeding from where the stool legs had struck him and looking furious. Ronan dodged his punches easily; Gordon had a tendency to let his anger get the better of him. And he was a large man; he always seemed to think sheer brute strength would win the day so he charged around like a bull elephant. Ronan drew one of his own knives from inside his cloak, jabbing it clean through Gordon’s wrist as the man swung on him again.

“You can just walk away now,” Ronan said calmly as Gordon stared in disbelief at the blade sticking out of his arm. “You can walk away and leave us be. If you insist on attacking us and killing the girl, then I’m going to have to kill you.”

“Are you out of your mind? You think I’m just going to walk away because you went soft?”

“You can still leave, Gordon.”

Gordon shook his head in disgust and yanked his arm up to free it of Ronan’s knife, then he made to swing his own with the point aimed directly at Ronan’s face. Ronan leaned back, then leaned forward again as the knife missed him. He took advantage of Gordon’s momentum and in the split second he was vulnerable, Ronan buried his blade in the man’s temple. Gordon’s eyes went blank, like a candle being snuffed out. Ronan stepped back and pulled his blade free, letting the body topple to the floor. The waitress who’d been trying to flirt with him gaped and dropped the tray she’d been carrying.

“Sorry for the mess,” Ronan said, wiping his blade clean. “I’ll leave a few extra coins so you can pay the magistrates for the clean up, and a few extra beyond that if you tell them you didn’t see anything.”

“See anything of what?” she replied and Ronan smirked fairly as he dropped a pile of coins on the table. He didn’t like to be parting with so much, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He checked to make sure Flora was okay; she was unconscious but her pulse was steady. He picked her up and carried her into the alley alongside the tavern, sticking to shadowy back streets and taking the long way back to the inn, down a narrow country road. She finally stirred and her eyes fluttered open, though they were a little unfocused. She was clearly still feeling the effects of whatever Gordon had drugged her with.

“Am I floating?” she asked, sounding drunk.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” She stretched the word “sure” out so it sounded like it had about six extra U’s. “Because it feels like I’m floating.”

“You were drugged.”

“Really? That’s rude.”

Ronan suppressed a smile. “I’m taking you back to the inn. Just go back to sleep.”

“No. I’m not sleepy,” she said, sounding like a pouty kid.

“Okay well at least keep your voice down.”

“You keep your voice down,” she retorted, and then giggled wildly like she’d told a great joke. Her head flopped back and she stared up at the sky. Ronan gently tilted her head back up.

“You’re going to hurt your neck doing that,” he said. He reached the inn and carried her up the stairs to their room. He set her on her feet while he tried to get the door open. She swayed slightly, then pitched forward. Alarmed, Ronan caught her before she could fall flat on her face. Instead she fell against his chest while he held her upright.

“You smell nice,” she said, her voice muffled because she was still smooshed against him.

“Someone really needs to sleep it off,” Ronan replied, pushing her back slightly and keeping one hand on her shoulder while he got the door open with the other. She staggered into the room and he had to catch her again. He lifted her off her feet and set her on the bed, undoing her cloak and the belt holding her blade, setting them both off to the side. Flora had flopped onto her back, feet dangling over the side of the bed. Ronan knelt down and undid the laces on her boots, pulling them off and setting them next to the nightstand.

He gently lifted her legs and swung them up into the bed, then adjusted her so she was lying against the pillows.

“You’re really tall,” Flora said.

“Thank you.”

“You seem like you need a hug, d’you know that? You’re so crabby. But you smell tall. Good. Smell tallgood.”

“It’s time for sleeping now,” he said. She reached out a hand and nearly poked him in the eye. He caught her wrist and then pulled the blankets up over her and brushed her hair out of her face. She tried to complain again that she wasn’t tired and he shushed her. He tucked some of the lavender he’d picked into her pillow case and then moved to make sure the door and window were locked again.

“Hey…hey Ronan?”

“What is it, Flora?”

“D’you think that snakes wish they had feet? So they could wear shoes?”

Ronan ran a hand over his face. “Good night, Flora.”

“Good night,” she said brightly, and then promptly fell asleep.