Under normal circumstances, she would be content to leave the handling of this particular group to Leilan and Castile. They are capable men, with the power and ability to protect this land from whatever threat may come. They could do what needed doing without her oversight.
But these are not normal circumstances.
The moment the yellow buckskin had crossed these borders, a feral growl had escaped her throat. Even illness could not stop the cold determination that had infused her. She had been perfectly content to let him be, so long as he had stayed well away from her. From what is hers. But he had chosen to intrude, to stake his claim on a land that does not belong to him. And that she would not abide.
Their threats only add fuel to the fire, and for the first time in her life, she longs for the taste of death. Perhaps it is delirium, or perhaps it is merely an ancient beast that has lain dormant inside her too long. Only twice before had she stained herself with blood and death, but if they did not leave, and quickly, this might make a third.
The illness rattles inside her chest, but she ignores it. She had been bolstered, for a time (not long, she suspects, but long enough for her to see through what she needed to). And so she ignores it as her steps carry her across the frozen soil. Carry her to the group that had already formed.
The black stallion’s final words send an icy wash of fury through her, and her blue eyes sharpen, her gaunt features setting into a dangerous mask. It is rare for her ire to be so stirred, and though she does not look imposing with her gaunt frame and slim build, only a fool would believe her truly weak. She does not discount that they may be fools however.
“Will you?” she rasps in response to the foolish man’s final words, the simple syllables a challenge of their own. She would slaughter him where he stood before she allowed him to keep any part of his promise. That the sick already inhabit this land is ironic, given their mission. Disgusting as it is.
For a moment, she considers simply ripping their hearts from them, watching them turn to dust before her. Ridding themselves entirely of this problem. For a moment, she nearly does, when her eyes come to rest on the yellow stallion that likely had no memory of why she wished him dead. He might never know, as she has never felt the need to inform her victims that it was her vengeance that had brought about their death. The simple completion of the task is sufficient for her.
But there would be ramifications to such an action, and so she thinks better of it. But that does not mean she wouldn’t change her mind.
“As I see it, you have two options here,” she continues, her voice low and hoarse. “Leave, or die.” There is no sense of false promise in her tone. Any who knew her would know how deadly serious she is. Would know that she, a woman so very well versed in the art of negotiation, is not trifling with threats. “Your twisted ideals are not welcome here, and threats against my own will not be tolerated.”
If they had not threatened those she loves, perhaps her response might have been different. But they had. And there is no return from that precipice.
i see your sins
and i want to set them free
