— for: @vengrberg | THIS WORLD IS A WICKED AND ANGRY PLACE, she had been told before, both against the grain of journey and out of it. this world is no place for us... it will tear the limbs of a woman apart, refuse to stitch her back together, leave her to bleed. the Amazons had seen it before. even more – it had happened to them. the knives and gnashing teeth of men is a familiar thing, this duty of eradication and savior - ship ( like thieves in the night, like guardians unseen, ) known like the back of steel knuckles.
and so the cycle of work continues. a caravan heads west, pulled by two skinny horses. the group of men who lead it snarl with all their teeth bared, their hands rough and bloodied, the chains and ropes between their fingers taut against the skin of their prisoners. she counts six women, all of them tired and afraid, anticipating what is next to come. they will not get far. their journey will end here.
SHE WORKS AFTER THE MEN ARE NICE AND LOOSE, their forms curled like lions around their prey. their fire has since burned to embers and smoke, their bellies full of beer and meat and piss. she is sure a few of them have taken from their prisoners without the hassle of spoiling them. the air near the campsite is rancid with sweat, the smell of wet and rotten ground. they rest soundly now, no worry in their minds, and the Amazon creeps against the background of night... slowly, one by one, she turns them into husks of dead flesh. her sword fits neatly in the guts of the closest one, its blade swift to pierce the throat and deny the chance of any sound. instead - he makes a guttural gurgle, blood pooling to his mouth and spilling to the dirt. she moves on, stepping over his body onto the next, slicing precise and quiet. each of them gurgle their own ichor. each of them have no time to shout. each of them are made into neat messes, their bodies left uncovered and unburied.
within moments: the men are carcasses left for flies. within moments, the women are released from their chains and given a few pieces of coins each, and told to flee south – Someone is waiting, the Amazon promises. Tell the innkeeper... a Daughter of Artemis sent you. and she waits until they are all out of sight.
