Cowering under the stairs with a warm and shivering figure held against you. You can hear them just outside of view, shouting and arguing.
"Find it!" It repeats again and again. Each time growing louder and fiercer.
You don't know what they're searching for, but the sounds of furniture being tossed and destroyed make it clear that it's important to them.
The door bursts open, a tiny stream of light hits your arm. The sudden heat of sunlight against your skin... a ray of hope? Are they guards? Is it help?
"Where are they?"
They? They were looking for an it. What changed? You know the rough sounding man speaks if you and whoever it is in your arms. The shivering gets worse. Your arm is wet now.
Footsteps grow near; heavy boots, the smell of smoke creeping inot the cracks. He's getting too close, and whimpering ensues. The little girl in your arms is going to give you both away. The trembling is yours now.
There's nowhere left to run. You don't hold her close. You don't tell her it'll be alright. You're too afraid to think. Your chest heats up as anger fills your mind. You set the girl aside, reach for the first solid object you can find, and you drive it through the cracks when the footsteps stop. A painful grunt, a violent jerk, and two gasps later, you kick the hidden half sized door open.
Your heart sinks. Your anger turns to terror. The sword hit heavy chain, not a single drop of blood spilt.
Anger wasn't enough. Your rage made you arrogant. Here you stand, barely chest high to three armed men, the door hiding your sister behind you left wide open. You failed her.
Cold, chain wrapped fingers clasp around your throat, you look around just long enough to notice all three wear the same armor.
They are the guards. You can't find enough breath to apologize, and the scowl on his face doesn't look like it belongs to a man who wants to hear it.
A long sword is raised above his head and your eyes sting with the slight breeze and awful smokey odor as your eyes widen.
"Kill me and you won't find it." The words are hardly audible. You can't breathe. But they're enough. The sword halts, the grip loosens. Your feet find solid ground. The child begins to cry behind you. Your blood freezes at a thought. Theyll go after your sister...
He moves forward, brushes you aside, but a single foot remains in place to trip the man. He lands hard, and you're atop him, jaw in your hands as the other two pairs of feet struggle to reach you. Too late, a neck is broken. One. Swords are dawn, but you know the house well. A twist and roll, and the embers and coalso of the fireplace meet the two men's faces. You scream in pain, your hands in agony from the heat. You jump, thumbs digging into where once rested eyes. Agony again, but not yours. Two. A blind swing, your back aches; wet, cold, hot. You charge, driving your heat into rough chainmail. You both stumble, a loud crack, gurgled grumbles, your cheek is warm. The broken furniture, a lance unexpected. Three.
Yes, you decide as you leave with your sister. Fear made you strong.
The Sensations Of Fear
