7. What is their fondest memory? Their worst?
The fondest memory…
It was a thundering night, she was merely around 9 summers at the time when lightning struck close to that old building she was living in with her mentor. Nightmares, just as they are today, were frequent, uninvited guests. That night wasn’t different…
She felt the whip lick at her back again, crack to fill the room booming, so loud… So, so loud… Just like the thunder outside… She hated those dreams… Dread, fear relentlessly clawed their way into her heart again. Strike after strike, she shed tears and droplets of crimson as her flesh gave way to the very essence of life to pour forth in the wake of every merciless assault.
“Scream you little monster… Scream!!”
She refused. That would be the last thing she would give… Satisfaction to that pompous man who smelled of wine, both from the quite plentiful he drank and the half jug’s worth the small child managed to pour upon him as she tripped on a wrinkled rug. She would endure in quiet, a hiss or an almost silent whimper was the most the man managed to get out of her…
Suddenly, the terrible cracks grew louder, agonizing until she shot up in her bed, screaming and alarming the man who slept around the corner in another section of the room as another smite from the heavens shook their home. He mumbled curses to himself, lack of sleep and wicked men haunting through the small au ra. Hassan cursed them all…
Ruffling his short, dark hair, the man padded over to the small one’s bed.
“Hey kiddo…”
He was about to sit down on the edge of the bed when the little thing clung onto him and buried her face in his scarred abdomen.
“Uh… Y-You need to let go… Come on…”
The Thavnairian man grumbled, trying to peel off the small girl from himself which was quite a challenge with arms, legs and even tail holding on tight. He carefully managed after all and settled down, leaning his back against the wall that had some drapery hanging over. He carefully held the small child and pressed his forehead to hers.
“Come on now… It is but a small storm and a bad dream. They cannot harm you anymore, you understand? I will not let them..”
Hassan smiled, his halflidded chestnut brown eyes emitting warmth and comfort… Locked with those big, teary pools of lavender and azure. The small raen sniffled and nodded. This was the second time the sun kissed man did that… It was just as calming as the first time… Just that little touch, warmth on her forehead could make everything wrong go away…
The worst memory…
The festivities brought a flow of color, music, fragrance and cheer onto the streets. The crowd of people, like a giant river poured down the city. That was her fourteenth summer. The plan was clear… The target would parade with his guards, moving amidst the crowd… She have to get close, just run past and just… Use her ring, the little poisoned needle hidden in it… Just a small prick and they would be successful…
A tiny tiny prick… Yet she never managed to do it.
Even through the chatter and the melodies, she could hear the guards shout on the rooftops… She looked up, there were so many of them. Impossible she thought. She panicked and wanted to run up there, help.
Hassan was surrounded, fighting against many and even though he made his stand, he got overwhelmed sooner than expected. As the small au ra tried to skitter away and climb the closest building, she was yanked back. One of her target’s bodyguard grasped her scarf and quickly pushed her to the ground. With her small frame she could do naught against the guard who kneeled on her.
She squirmed, wriggled but could find no way out until the guard yelped and rolled off of her, dead, his chest wet with crimson as he stilled on his side…
“Come on kiddo… We need to…Go…”
Yla froze then and there… Hassan was injured, his shirt, his leather armor, his shortsword was drenched in blood. No… It must be from his enemies, it must be… He is fine, he is strong, agile, no way he would lose, yet her body refused to move. She was trembling and heard Hassan curse and heave as he picked her up and started running.
Arrows whistled through the air, some of them passed by, grazing them both. Her shoulders oozed the red liquid but she couldn’t feel the pain through the shock as she heard some of the arrows hit their mark… Hassan grunted and had to stop around a corner to catch his breath, coughing up blood. He broke down the two arrows lodged into his back…
No… He must be alright, he must be… He… He must be…
The desperate thoughts filled her mind and before she noticed they were running again, leaving the screams of the crowd, the shouting of the guards behind them, a weird symphony of chaos…
They could get away…
The Thavnairian man fell through the door of their home and kicked it shut before he crumbled to his knees. Yla hit herself on the stone floor but pain still couldn’t get through to her as she quickly crawled back to Hassan.
“L-Let me help. You will be alright, i promise.”
She said with a shaky voice, quickly undoing clasp after clasp on his leather armor and peeling away the wet fabric of his shirt, drenched in blood. Oh blood… There was so much blood, so much more than she has ever seen before yet she did everything she could.
She remembered what Alim taught her before when she helped the old man out… She looked for the vials they had from him. Milk of the poppy, some strange liquid, ointment, bandages, she quickly gathered them all just as the herbalist and potion maker taught her… The small raen cleaned, stitched the wounds, applied the ointment and dressed them accordingly… She dragged the injured man to bed and faced her longest… Most horrible night alone, drowning in fear and worry that she will lose him… And a day or two later… She did.
