Ciarra The Cold

[This chapter is told from a foxkin bandit's point of view.]

My parents were two poor foxkin farmers, but I still had a happy childhood.

Like most children, I dreamed of becoming an adventurer. Most children see the gold and glory that adventurers enjoy, and dream of having it for themselves. Even as a child, I was different, and I didn't dream of gold and glory like the rest of them. I knew what I wanted. Freedom. Never once did I doubt that adventurers could go everywhere, and do anything they wanted. Adventurers were free as a bird, always going to places I could only imagine. Without the strength to be a [Soldier] it's all but impossible for poor peasant girls like me to become adventurers. I should have ended up apprenticed to someone with a crafting or gathering class, but willful children seem to have a magic of their own.

During harvest, a traveling minstrel spent a week at the village, trading stories for meals, and permission to sleep in our communal barn. One night he told a story about a young man becoming an adventurer, and I learned that fighting in [Dungeons] grants an adventurer class to people that without one. The next day I pretended a stick was a wand, and imagined becoming a wizard or enchanter.

I was such a naive child back then. Head full of childish dreams, I ran away, and joined up with what I thought was a great group of adventurers. It never occurred to me that anything was strange about three middle aged male adventurers taking in a thirteen year old runaway girl.

We traveled to Gravestead, and soon headed into it's [Dungeon]. Once we were alone, my supposed group tried to put a slave collar around my neck. Several skeletons chose that moment to attack, distracting the adventurers, and accidentally giving me the chance to escape. While I hid from both the adventurers, and the monsters, the [Dungeon] granted me the [Rogue] class.

Utterly betrayed, completely alone, surrounded by monsters, and the only exit blocked by the very people that betrayed me, I learned true despair. At first I just hid. Without agility, almost all [Rogue] skills were practically worthless. As hours passed, the adventurers anger grew. They thought I had escaped down one of the side passages, and expected me to give up before the night was out. I was close enough to hear them talk about how they planned to punish me for disobeying them, so I knew surrender wasn't an option.

With nothing left to loose, and the tattered remains of a child's hope, I spliced together a desperate plan. I might die. But, the nightmare they planned to turn my life into was far worse.

Once they setup camp, leaving just one on watch, I used [Stealth], one of the few [Rogue] skills that's based on intelligence, instead of agility, and snuck deeper into the [Dungeon]. Taking as few chances as possible, I carefully scouted the exact route I would take. Hours later I was satisfied.

Standing in an intersection between three tunnels, my pockets filled with a couple dozen small rocks, I dropped [Stealth] and quickly threw two rocks down different side tunnels, attracting the attention of two small packs of zombies. Then I ran the other way. I rounded the next corner, already angled away from the skeletons standing just out of reach, on the other side of the cavern. Just to make sure they followed me, I threw a rock at them as well. I passed three other groups of undead, and made sure they all were running after me.

I tried to run past the adventurers, but the [Warrior] they left on watch easily snatched me up. His laughter and my screams woke up the others.

"I'm the one that caught her, so I get to go first!" He pulled out his dagger and said, "I bet them that I could slice off all the skin between your shoulders and knees in one solid piece."

I stopped struggling, and grinned maniacally at them. "My new friends insist on playing with you first." Dozens of undead rounded the corner, and I was filled with savage joy. I laughed as their confusion turned into terror. He shoved me towards the undead, but I expected the move, and stayed on my feet. With their attention completely focused on the undead, I darted past, and ran down the cavern, leaving the three of them to die. I risked one glance back, after the screaming stopped. The undead were distracted, eating the three large men, so I used [Stealth], and quietly, but triumphantly, left the [Dungeon].

I thought my troubles were over, but the [Adventurers Guild] wouldn't accept me, and the local [Thieves Guild] gave me quite a scar when I tried to join them. No one wanted a [Rogue] with low agility.

After I spending two weeks blindly following the adventuring group I 'joined' as they traveled to Gravestead, I didn't have so much as a general idea how to get back home. I was just a child, and hadn't paid any attention to the roads or the sun. My home was just 'The Village' to me, so I couldn't even ask for directions.

I was a fool.

The [Beggars Guild] saved me. They found me starving on the streets and took me in. Of course, they didn't do it out of altruism, but they were honest. They took their tithe, but never so much as a copper more. Sometimes, when things were really bad, they didn't even take that much. I learned many lessons. Who was likely to give a copper or two. Who would kick me out of their path. And, the most important lesson of all. Never beg from an adventurer.

A few years later, when I started to grow into a woman, and one of the city guards made it clear that if I didn't spread my legs for him, I would disappear. It wasn't pleasant, but then nothing about my life was. After spending about a year under his protection, I overheard him telling a couple other guards about me. Paying one for protection had been more than enough, so I left the city.

I had overheard some of the other beggars talking about a band of bandits. I didn't know exactly where their base was, but I was able to get close enough for them to find me, and after a few days of suspicion, they cautiously welcomed another [Rogue] into their ranks. I knew that would change when they found out how worthless my terrible agility made most of my [Rogue] skills.

So I did what I have always done. I planned for survival. Every time our 'glorious leader' c.o.c.ked his finger, I spread my legs for him. I took over the chores everyone else hated the most. I cooked, I cleaned, and I spent hours washing their dirty clothes every day. But, it worked. By the time they found out, no one suggested kicking me out. For the first time since becoming a [Rogue], I slept in relative safety. Sometimes I even had a full belly. Enduring our 'glorious leaders' attention, and the bands half-hearted derision, was a small price to pay for that.

Robbing merchant caravans was the only part of my life I enjoyed. The band thought I was a fool for becoming a [Rogue], but I was one of them, even if I was the weakest. It was closer to being an adventurer than anything else I'd experienced. We were bandits, and we were fighting caravan guards instead of monsters, and our treasure came from merchants, not a [Dungeon], but it was more than I had ever had before. The year I've been been with them has been far better than my life as a beggar.

***

One morning, bacon was sizzling in my pan when our scout returned, talking excitedly about a beautiful lizardkin he found on the way back. At first I ignored the conversation. If our 'glorious leader' had a pretty new slave to play with, at least I'd get a break, and after he tired of her, we would all split the profit. It's not a pretty business, but it's part of the price I pay for survival.

When he mentioned that he found the lizardkin relaxing in the river, the same freezing cold river I fetch water from several times a day, I knew something was very wrong.

"Wait." I interrupted, "If she was happily soaking in that river, then she isn't a lizardkin. She can't be, they are cold-blooded. Their are only two possibilities. She is either a demoness, or some other monster that looks like a lizardkin." Of course, they didn't believe me, and I knew better than to try to force the issue, so I dropped it, and left the conversation. I couldn't help my muttered complaints, but I kept them quiet enough that I wasn't overheard.

While they prepared to leave, I diced the bacon, dumped it into the soup, then banked the fire. It should keep well enough until we come back. We all headed back to where the scout saw her bathing in the river. I kept my loaded crossbow ready. Perhaps they would finally learn to listen to my suggestions after this.

She was gone.

We searched, but couldn't find any trace of her. Both the riverside and the road were clean. I didn't let my guard down, even when we couldn't find a single lizardkin track in either location. Our 'glorious leader' and the scout argued loudly all the way back to our temporary camp. Can't they sense it? An apex predator is nearby, and they keep shouting at each other. Fools.

When we approached our camp, a new scent on the wind sent a shiver down my back. Suddenly, my fur bristled, and the thundering of my heart almost deafened me.

She was there.

Impossibly beautiful, the so-called 'lizardkin' just sat on our cart. Without a stitch of clothing. She wasn't even trying to cover her shame. My body seemed to freeze. She bit off half of our last block of cheese, silently chewing, eyes flickering back-and-forth through the band, dismissing all of us as though we weren't worth her time.

She laughed.

A joyous sound, that seemed completely out of place. Almost without thinking about it, I fired my crossbow. The bolt bounced off her, and she smiled at me. I amused her. I knew I was about to die.

Then pain exploded, and I found myself on the ground. For a moment I though she had somehow hit me from her seat on the cart, then I realized our 'glorious leader' had punched me. He started kicking me in the stomach, and I curled into a ball, trying to protect myself. I was being punished for trying to save our lives. Why couldn't they see? Did they think I missed? I didn't. The bolt just bounced off her side, as though she was formed out of solid stone.

They left me curled up on the ground. I crawled slowly towards the trees, trying to keep my pace steady and unhurried, but unwilling to turn my back on her. Never run from an apex predator. If only we had another beastkin in the band, one they actually respected, we might have been able to convince them.

They circled around her, like a flock of buzzards, confidant that they had everything under control. Our 'glorious leader' gave his normal spiel, offering protection from his men if they submitted to him. Normally, I hated this part, but this time I can't look away.

She ignored him.

When our eyes met, it felt as though we were the only entities in the world. Just the predator and myself. I couldn't force myself to break eye contact. It felt as though she would attack the instant I blinked. Her gaze burned with a heat that I didn't understand. One hand slid between her legs, not to cover herself up, but to stroke at her s.e.x. She licked her lips hungrily.

I broke.

Ignoring my instincts, I just ran. The crossbow had done nothing to her, and I could only think of one weapon that could kill her. Keeping my goal firmly in mind, I ran for our main base. Behind me, our 'glorious leader' started screaming. First with anger, then in fear, and finally in agony. A loud impact cut his scream short. More people screamed.

I ignored them.

And ran as though the hordes of hell were on my trail.

***

After returning to our fort, I scrambled to the only room that offered any hope. It had our single siege weapon, a ballista that our 'glorious leader' planned to sell. I frantically leveraged it around to face the door. I cranked it back, grunting with the effort, even though I used a long lever to turn the crank. Once it was ready, I opened the trapdoor that led to the underground cavern we kept our loot in, and retrieved the single enchanted ballista bolt we had, and I armed the ballista with it.

If she comes after me, I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I just wish I had a backup plan. Or an escape route. The underground cavern was just that, a single chamber. The trapdoor was the only entrance or exit.