The wagon tipped from side to side as it travelled accross the dusty road. Inside, a young passenger did her best to stop herself from falling out the back, onto the road where she knew she would not be picked up again by the rough driver.
Suddenly, with a lurch, the wagon stopped, and she heard the man swearing at his horses in Zorta. Stumbling around to the front, Satsa found what had stopped the skittish bests. A mangled hawk lay squawking in distress near the middle of the dirt road. Walking closer, she watched the Zortan driver walk to the the side of the road and pick up a stick.
"No. Don't," she said, her was soft, but it carried over distances, a skill of woodlanders. "Don't."
She produced a large, dirty sheet from one of many pockets in her multicoloured gown, and walked steadily and stealthily up to the bird. Stopping only a few footsteps from the raptor, she woung the cloth thickly around both arms, leaving a wide strip of sheet between them. Then, as quick as a blink, she snared the bird in her arms. As it began slashing and thrashing, ahe let the sheet unravel from her arms onto the hawk, binding it's protest, in an old entertainer's trick.
"Come on," she asked in that same gentle voice, noticing the driver's gaze upon her. "You have work to do, as have I." She carried the bundle, now still, into the back of the carrige and settled downto sleep the reat of the journey.
She was woken past midnight, when the wagon stopped. The hawk was dozing quietly in his sheet, and she silently grabbed her luggage and leaped off the back of the truck, a hand around the bird's beak. The driver had told her earlier that she would not be his responsibility if she was caught.
"Come on, Sama," ahe told herself as the sheet began to move. "Keep 'im steady."
She left the docks and slinked through the desrted streets to an inn. Outside, she took out a leather purse, and emptied 3gold coins into her hand, all while keeping a tight grip onto the bird. "One for lodging, one for food, one for clothes."
Taking a deep breath, she pulled her cloak's hood up round her face, took the sheet from her prisoner, and walked with face down like a holy woman. "I hope this works, she muttered."
Walking into the inn, she placed the three coins on the counter, singing mysteriously. "Clothes, food and rent, my son." She smiled vaguely, just as she had seen the Majan priests do.
A proven actor while she travelled with the entertainers, she was not sure if she could pull this off. At last, the innkeeper nodded and swept the coins into his sleeve.
"Yes, messenger," he croaked, breath reeking of drink, as he showed her to her room, "I hope this is good for you....... herm herm."
Sama waited until he had gone, and then left to care for the bird. she knew it would not love or even trust her, but she had been found in the wildlands at three chronicles of age, and welcomed any chance to repay the wilds that had kept her safe from the black mascades, bandits who were reputed for thier blood-lust and tyranny.
She gently tore strips off the white sheet she had wrapped the bird in, and rubbed salve through them before she covered the bird's wounds.
The door slid open, and she rushed to again pull up her hood, but there was no need. Dark robes were dropeed through the door.
Smiling, the girl changed and returned to the hawk, another object in her hidden thigh bag.
She would have to find work soon, preferably as a stable girl or falconer's assistant. But jobs could wait until tommorow. With the hawk set watchfully in a corner of the room, she went to sleep on the scratching matress, waiting for the morning to come.
Morning came, but not as she expected. When she descended to the common room, there were unfriendly visitors. Three thugs, the biggest as the brain of things. Contrary to a widespread belief, not all strong being are stupid. Thugs could be one of the smartest crooks around, though they were very superstitious.
"What have we here?" Biggest guy.
"A priest. Sorry, PRIESTESS, heh. Dance for the gods then, sweetie."
Sama kept her composture, and walked past them to the other side of the room, muttering curses aloud. She hated thugs. They were at the top of the criminal chain, and thought highly of themselves. Pride was a thing she hated.
"Some people hate spiders," she thought to herself. "I just hate thugs."
A hand grabbed her round the waist.
"Dance for me, sweetie," cooed the smallest crook.
Sama had had enough. She hated this stinking place, hated hiding from her enemies, and, right now, hated those three thugs most of all. Turning around, she lowed her hood and looked the small one in the eye. He was as slimy as an eel. She hated eels too, matter of fact.
With a solid punch, she winded him and sent him to the floor. His cronies gathered around, anger and amusement in their faces. They did not attempt to waste time with sppech, but instead attempted to force her between them in a pincer-like moment. Too bad. She had used that move herself, in the past, and knew its weaknesses. She dodged away and kicked the medium man as he turned toward her. The other one caught her thigh in a cutting blow, deadining her nerves for a second. Nevertheless, she swept his legs from under him, and watched him fall as his comrades had. They were watching their leader, knowing it would be against anything that bound them as crooks to intrude. The big guy was up in a moment, and swung his left fist toward her , she ducked, and was almost hit by the second puch that came from below. Fortunately, he slipped on spilled ale, and his fist smached the wall, leaving a dent, and broken fingers.
Sama's anger had worn off by now, and she knew that too much attention had been attracted. She gave a silent sigh, and slipped out of the common room up to her lodging, where she gathered her stuff and prepared to jump out the window, to the garden below. A quick check of the bird ahowed him sleepy and almost healed.
"I better find another place to sleep tommorow," she muttered, as the bird dozed off in her care.
"Oh well."
She woke on the side of a deserted road. The road was very slippery from the rain that had poured down the night before. Looking around to see what had awakened her, she observed the hawk as it struggled to free itself from its bonds. Knowing that it was probably healed, she quickly stood and gathered the hawk to her. holding it up high and ignoring the sharp jabs of it's beak, she ripped the binding cloth and whispered a blessing.
Without a look back, the bird rose up into the sky, leaving only scars and useless weaving to tell of it's presence.
Impartially, Sama gathered her belongings and trudged off on her own road. But suddenly heard a screech from the sky. For the first time she looked back, and smiled. But her jaw suddenly clenched and she turned to her original direction and began to run.
The three men from the inn began to chase her, and she shouted thanks to the hawk.
Though she lived as a traveller, and took whichever road lay open to her, she was now thankful for at least one thing: Now she was running, she at least knew she was doing SOMETHING.
Is this the end? Does it seem like a good ending? Well, you give it a try, email me some ideas and i'll write more! PLease! I'm bored these holidays.
Or, if you want your own story up here, email me for that or anything else too at:
the_writer_of_the_future@hotmail.com
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