The dust drifted around her boots like a phantom snake slithering across the desert sands as glittering shards of fallen tears crystallized by the sun painted mirages in the distance that tempted her hungry eyes. Her skin prickled at the beads of sweat that railed like scorched rivers across her tanned plains, rolling steadily down into tattered clothes that clung to her aching frame, but she carried onward.
Vultures lurked in the shadows under the thick heat chocking the air, their beady eyes trailing every stumbling step she took, waiting for her knees to sink into the rusted land beneath her one last time. When one got bold enough to try and encourage her back into the grave she had pulled the knife they had so graciously buried into her back and drove it deep into the screaming birds eye, gouging as far as her own pain ran until it fell limp in the trail of her boot prints. None had bothered since to try and get close again.
Staring into the glossy scavenger's eye, she had finally seen what they had done to her and what little of her heart that had not been torn in torment curled up with vengeance and splintered into a maddening rage.
She held it close now, driving herself forward with it like a refreshing well quenching her unending thirst.
They were going to pay.
For him.
For her.
For them.
Her hands shook at times with the madness seeping into her mind, flashes of it all sparking like kindle in the blanket of night.
The lot of them had been traveling for days, a quick journey from the Outer Mountain shacks to the bustling streets of Desert Town to do a bit of trading and gathering supplies for the up coming month. They only needed to stop twice along the way, something they assumed would keep them from catching the eye of any prowling bandits.
But they had been wrong.
It was only a day's journey into town when they had settled for the second night, camping in close quarters to keep safe as each armed member rotated in watch for trouble. The first shot had caught the old man under the jaw as he had tipped his head back while taking a swig from his canteen. The second had caught his son between the eyes. After that, it was a blur of horses hooves shaking the ground like a raging storm with bolts of maniacal laughter and jeers swirling around in the darkness.
She had raced from her bedroll, rifle in hand and started shooting at any shadow that wasn't familiar in shape to her. She had emptied a pocket full of shells and dropped a half dozen of them before she had felt the piercing blade strike between her spine and her right shoulder. It had drove her to the ground, a cloud of dust kicked up so high she couldn't see what was going on but she could her the panicked screams, smell the blood that was splattering like rain in the ground around her, and she screamed in anger.
A couple had tried to kick her while she was down and she had snapped their legs like twigs before a third one caught her off guard with a boot to the face, her left cheek bone crunching at the impact.
Oh how she wished she would have blacked out then, that there would have been some mercy for the things to come, but the night had remained cruel. She had watched helplessly as those who had not fallen in the ambush were strung up one by one in an old distant tree that was more suited for providing shelter rather than hanging. Some had been fortunate and their suffering hand ended quickly with a swift jerk. Her brother. His wife. Her cries of anguish had been gagged as she watched their eyes go dark. Others had struggled helpless in front of her, dancing like marionettes in one last beckoning of the puppeteer.
She had been last.
Their taunts and rancid breaths tearing into her soul like jagged wicked cuts. Maybe they had grown tired, their arms weak from their previous stringing, or maybe they just wanted to toy with her one last time. Either way the noose had cut sharply into the bruised skin of her neck as they dangled her along with the others, her body shaking at the strain and her throat slowly constricting each time she tried desperately not to move. Eventually the had cut her down, not even uttering a word as one of them drove the knife in her back in a bit further before stepping back. She had heard the click of the hammer going back before the echoing crack of the gun going off had pierced her ears and she had felt the bullet strike.
Pain had been her morning light.
Pain and the clawing weight of freshly dug earth.
She had wheezed, chocked and gagged with each mind shattering struggle to break free before she had finally felt the caress of fresh air and sunlight on her face. Hot streaks of tears had washed the dirt around her swollen features free as she stared up at the swaying forms above her, at the Hanging Tree her friends and family dangled from. She had been weak, stumbling repeatedly and striking the ground time and time again until she had found some water and food not tossed or looted by the bastards to help settle her.
Then she had cut them free and laid them all together, covering them with ripped tarps and cloth until they were sheltered from the birds that had already begun to pick away at them. She mourned.
And then she picked herself up to being walking.
And she was going to continue walking until she reached town.
Until she found them.
And then she was going to return the favor, watching with satisfaction until crows pick what flesh will be left of them clean off their bones.
Vultures lurked in the shadows under the thick heat chocking the air, their beady eyes trailing every stumbling step she took, waiting for her knees to sink into the rusted land beneath her one last time. When one got bold enough to try and encourage her back into the grave she had pulled the knife they had so graciously buried into her back and drove it deep into the screaming birds eye, gouging as far as her own pain ran until it fell limp in the trail of her boot prints. None had bothered since to try and get close again.
Staring into the glossy scavenger's eye, she had finally seen what they had done to her and what little of her heart that had not been torn in torment curled up with vengeance and splintered into a maddening rage.
She held it close now, driving herself forward with it like a refreshing well quenching her unending thirst.
They were going to pay.
For him.
For her.
For them.
Her hands shook at times with the madness seeping into her mind, flashes of it all sparking like kindle in the blanket of night.
The lot of them had been traveling for days, a quick journey from the Outer Mountain shacks to the bustling streets of Desert Town to do a bit of trading and gathering supplies for the up coming month. They only needed to stop twice along the way, something they assumed would keep them from catching the eye of any prowling bandits.
But they had been wrong.
It was only a day's journey into town when they had settled for the second night, camping in close quarters to keep safe as each armed member rotated in watch for trouble. The first shot had caught the old man under the jaw as he had tipped his head back while taking a swig from his canteen. The second had caught his son between the eyes. After that, it was a blur of horses hooves shaking the ground like a raging storm with bolts of maniacal laughter and jeers swirling around in the darkness.
She had raced from her bedroll, rifle in hand and started shooting at any shadow that wasn't familiar in shape to her. She had emptied a pocket full of shells and dropped a half dozen of them before she had felt the piercing blade strike between her spine and her right shoulder. It had drove her to the ground, a cloud of dust kicked up so high she couldn't see what was going on but she could her the panicked screams, smell the blood that was splattering like rain in the ground around her, and she screamed in anger.
A couple had tried to kick her while she was down and she had snapped their legs like twigs before a third one caught her off guard with a boot to the face, her left cheek bone crunching at the impact.
Oh how she wished she would have blacked out then, that there would have been some mercy for the things to come, but the night had remained cruel. She had watched helplessly as those who had not fallen in the ambush were strung up one by one in an old distant tree that was more suited for providing shelter rather than hanging. Some had been fortunate and their suffering hand ended quickly with a swift jerk. Her brother. His wife. Her cries of anguish had been gagged as she watched their eyes go dark. Others had struggled helpless in front of her, dancing like marionettes in one last beckoning of the puppeteer.
She had been last.
Their taunts and rancid breaths tearing into her soul like jagged wicked cuts. Maybe they had grown tired, their arms weak from their previous stringing, or maybe they just wanted to toy with her one last time. Either way the noose had cut sharply into the bruised skin of her neck as they dangled her along with the others, her body shaking at the strain and her throat slowly constricting each time she tried desperately not to move. Eventually the had cut her down, not even uttering a word as one of them drove the knife in her back in a bit further before stepping back. She had heard the click of the hammer going back before the echoing crack of the gun going off had pierced her ears and she had felt the bullet strike.
Pain had been her morning light.
Pain and the clawing weight of freshly dug earth.
She had wheezed, chocked and gagged with each mind shattering struggle to break free before she had finally felt the caress of fresh air and sunlight on her face. Hot streaks of tears had washed the dirt around her swollen features free as she stared up at the swaying forms above her, at the Hanging Tree her friends and family dangled from. She had been weak, stumbling repeatedly and striking the ground time and time again until she had found some water and food not tossed or looted by the bastards to help settle her.
Then she had cut them free and laid them all together, covering them with ripped tarps and cloth until they were sheltered from the birds that had already begun to pick away at them. She mourned.
And then she picked herself up to being walking.
And she was going to continue walking until she reached town.
Until she found them.
And then she was going to return the favor, watching with satisfaction until crows pick what flesh will be left of them clean off their bones.
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