Time Of Traitors

8

They were alone, far from Ada, and that was the most important thing. Cres threw back his head - hooked branches scratched the sky. The tree was tall, climbing it would not be difficult for a stubborn boy who just wants to survive.

Bosorka, crouching with her stomach to the ground and raising her ass like a cat, slowly approached - she hoped to finish him off with one movement, and then play enough.

He jumped, completely forgetting how seriously injured he was, and clenched his fingers on the first branch. His feet slid over the bark, but he held on, hauling himself up and clutching at another branch, gritting his teeth in pain. Another impossible move, and the yellow leaves covered him completely. Bosorka, either from hatred, or from the anticipation of an imminent feast, tore his throat for the whole district, cutting circles around the trunk. The beast was preparing to release his guts, and he would not have done anything to stop her claws, but the dirty nature still took its toll. Play - let go, let go. Play - let go. Jumping gallop.

Kres climbed higher, listening to the frightening noise of blood in his ears, suppressing the fatigue and pain from every movement. The shirt was already soaked through with blood. He almost didn't feel his legs.

Huge wings fluttered in the rustle of leaves and quickly lifted the barefoot into the air. She rushed into the web of branches, waving her clawed paws and trying to reach the indefatigable little man - pieces of bark flew in all directions. Cres did not remain in debt and, you know, provoked her - he shouted at the top of his voice, and the rise tore him to pieces. When a black boundless firmament strewn with stars stretched overhead, he breathed in the fresh autumn air and looked down - death with a bloody beard sparkled under his feet. The twinkling stars are within easy reach - just jump, but you will invariably find yourself in greedy paws.

Not much to choose from, Kres thought as he pulled the dagger from his belt and clenched the blade between his teeth. The steely taste of blood gave him strength. The branch springed under his feet and he flew.

Bosorka hovered right under him when Kres, putting all the weight of his body into the blow, drove right into her muzzle with both legs. She growled, opening her toothy mouth to the limits permitted by nature, and Kres was already pulling her to the ground, stubbornly clinging to the bridle. But they never reached the ground. Somehow flapping its wings, the bosorka was able to stay in the air and rushed higher, dragging Kres along with it, closer to the sky. The wind, along with the sharp branches, rushed into his face, and the bosorka gave him a hard hit in the stomach with her hind paw - right in the very place, because of which the whole night went awry. Before my eyes, everything swam and spun, in place of the whirlwind of thorns and the starry sky, a parade of scarlet spots pranced. A flap of their wings and they stepped into an icy void where only the stars dreamed.

The beast roared no longer like a deceived and angry animal, but like a demon falling from heaven. Kres drew a full gulp of air into his burning throat and, with all his strength, drove the dagger into the neck of the bosorka, interrupting her cry.

The creature grunted disgustingly, huddled in vain in the air and began to lean towards the ground, but did not stop trying to reach the prey, which had so suddenly become a hunter, with teeth and claws. Cres pulled himself up, wrenched the dagger free, and thrust the blade into the thick neck a second time. He swung and hit the third, and at that moment the bosorka at full speed blew up the crown of the ref and crashed into a tree with a dull thud. bam! - and a massive trunk separated them.

Kres miraculously did not follow the monster down to count the branches, with great difficulty he stayed on the tree, swaying on one of the branches and unable to breathe from the deafening pain. A storm raged in my ears, sweat filled my eyes, and my breath burned my stomach every time. His legs floundered over the abyss without a chance to find a foothold under him, but Kres hung on his hands and with difficulty, but found something more or less solid, which dangerously caved under him - he held on.

The descent was long. And he felt more alive than all the living.

Bosorka sprawled on the ground and whimpered softly from resentment, spitting out viscous blood. The creature was in no hurry to die. She tossed and turned, plowing paths on the frozen ground with her paws, and from time to time announced the surroundings with a hoarse roar. Kres did not come close to the monster - the dagger was still sticking out of her neck, reducing the chances of the beast to zero. However, the artificially bred night hunter was still deadly.

Fortunately, the fight did not take them far from the clearing, and Cres quickly found Ada. She did not budge all the time, she sat, pressed against a tree, and silently gasped for air. A warrior squealed nearby and tried to stick his giblets back into his open belly. His eyes immediately lit up with fear as soon as Kress appeared from the shadows of the trees, and jumped to the ax, the blade of which was still sparkling, deep into the bark of the tree. But he was too far away to reach him with a crippled hand. Kres fulfilled his desire in his own way - he approached and pulled the weapon out of captivity with force. The warrior gurgled and fell silent, instantly shaking himself at the very sight of his ax in the fingers of a stranger who was still firmly on his feet.

Behind him, everyone grumbled and roared, rustled their wings and threatened to rise. Bell Borno is truly a master of his craft: even on the verge of life and death, these creatures are ready to do anything to get even with their enemy. Cres did not make the barefoot wait. It was not easy to calm the breath and return. The body longed for rest, but it was waiting for business.

He resolutely saddled the snarling bosorka, wrapped the reins around his hand, and pulled his head towards him so that it would be more convenient to crack the monster's skull. And beat until it was over. In the forest, only the echo of his scream died down - killing this creature was damn painful. However, just like doing everything else.

There was no more strength left to pull out the ax. Cres would have gotten down, fallen into the grass and closed his eyes - but he could only move his foot over the fallen back of the barefoot and remained motionless. How much blood he lost while running through the forest and climbing trees - and do not think. His pants were soaked, bitter moisture stubbornly flooded his groin.

Then the grass rustled again, Kres raised his head and came across her black, unblinking gaze - Ada came closer and closer, and the hope flared up in him again that now the former light would sing in her eyes, but the thought faded as quickly as appeared. The pain from the torn wound, bruises, bruises and abrasions, this time was crushed by shame. Her lower lip was bleeding, a black bruise was swelling under her eye. Even if she went to him herself, there was no spiritual strength to touch her.

She stood in front of him so simply and fearlessly, as if this stinking creature was not under his ass. Silently she sank down next to him and clung to him, as if they were sitting on a bench in the park of the Emerald City. Like before.

“Ada, dear…” Cres whispered, squeezing out every word with difficulty. - Remove your tongue, please ...

In response, she nuzzled his cheek and began to lick his face. Cres laughed softly and did not interfere with this expression of gratitude. He was suddenly at peace, it was good to know that Ada wasn't snarling at him, biting, or trying to run away. He laughed as he realized that this was the sweetest moment in months, or in a year - alas, faces and dates mingled in his mind in one gray, muddy blur.

But even such an idyll could not last forever. Everything, as usual, began with crispy leaves behind. Death did not make us wait too long - it came out from behind the trees in the guise of a forest spirit. But, oddly enough, she turned out to be a small person. On his broad shoulders rested a fur cloak fastened with a clasp, deadly iron burned in his hands , cold, steel fires sparkled in the eye slit of a heavy helmet with a wolf mask.

The warrior stopped ten paces away from them.

- Soooo. And who will you be?

He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled deafeningly.

– Malga, Golga, why are you fucking there?! Come here! That freak you fucked up hasn't gone far,” he shouted and laughed deafeningly.

His laughter thundered against the brightening sky. Then people in furs, bones and iron came out of the forest and came out.