Eyes

The night was mean and stormy.

Avon ran frantically. Her skirt caught in an outreached thorn, shredding the priceless fabric to frayed bits of nothing.

She cries out, softly, as she begins slipping, loosing her footing. Delicate shoes sliding down the mud bank, Avon reaches out around her for anything to stop her inevitable fall toward the raging rapids below her.

She begins falling down the hill faster and faster, the ground giving way to her reign of terror. Branches swipe her, leaves bat her, while the raging rain above pours pelting shards from it's storm, seeming to slice into her skin and prick her cuts open again.  Looking at the frothing river, hungry for blood, below, she began to accept her defeat. She almost gave in; she was about to look to death.

Suddenly, something catches her arms, reaching for the sky, her savior in her dark times. Avon, still looking down, realizes she has stopped moving abruptly. Something, something warm, was clinging to her arm as well.

Slowly, in an extremely suspicious manner, Avon turns to face her attacker. Her hand drifts for the knife in her holster, hidden from wary eyes.

She is met abruptly with dark brown eyes, staring into her soul. Even the slight smirk dancing on the lips seemed to aggravate her.

Who was this man to save her? She was perfectly fine. She would have caught herself if given another second. Look at him, acting so smug. He thinks he's her savior. She didn't need a savior. She was fine on her own!

"Are you just going to keep glaring at me, sweetie? Or do I get a thank you?" he says, almost laughing.

She glares at him for a second more, before he comes a step forward, hand outstretched towards her face. She flinches at first, wary of the approaching hand. His fingers, slender and gentle, caressed her cheek as he wiped blood off of a cut across her face. She, for a moment, almost accepted this behavior.

Wrenching her knife out of the holster, suddenly, she pinned the man to a tree, with the blade to his neck.

"Try it again. Try to touch me again. I dare you." she threatens.

He laughs.

She deepens the cut in his neck.

"Oh it's not so funny now, is it?" Avon taunts.

"Will you please let me go?" he says, pitifully.

"And why should I do that?"

"Perhaps because I have something you may want?" Smirking he raises the coin purse she had hidden in her dress earlier. Reaching to grab it, Avon loosened her grip on his neck. The man ran only a few feet away, waving the purse in the air, taunting her.

She growled and chased after him. Her eyes blazed bright beneath the stormy sky. The broken moon illuminated her face, casting ghostly shadows across her. The man stopped. Avon charged at him.

He laughed. Why does he keep laughing? What is so funny? Does he find my pain amusing?

Avon, approaching the man rapidly, charged him full speed, desperate to retrieve her coins: her only salvation for her new life. The life she might have, if this man would ever leave her be.

She launched herself at the man. Acting as a cat, with claws outstretched to shred her prey, she pounced on him. The man, taken aback at first, caught on. He sidestepped her attack. She, defeated, tumbled into the brush behind. Avon sat up, furious and stared at the man, merely a few steps away. He smirked at her once again. Really what is his problem?

Slowly, he approached her, his hand outstretched with the purse inside. She cautiously rose and took the offering. Avon opened the purse, checking inside for any missing coins.

She looked up at him.

"Why?"

"I've never seen a girl with such fire in her eyes. I've never experienced your caliber of vigorous determination. I just wanted to see what you'd do when provoked. I'm sorry." For the first time in their interaction, the man stared at the ground, ashamed.

Avon, though deeply confused and angered, attempted to sympathize with the man. She stepped towards him, grabbed one of his hands, and told him it was alright. The man smiled at her again.

For the first time, she smiled back, digging another knife into his throat. She had tackled him to the ground and was now sitting on his chest, pushing the blade ever further into his throat, once again.

"Tell me, why does this keep happening?" he asks.

"Simple. You're a fool."

"You're the one always putting yourself in the best pick-pocketing position." he smiles.

She rolls her eyes. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"My name is Ayren. I already told you what I want with you."

"I don't believe you."

"Then why'd you bother asking?"

"I don't trust you, but I need someone with charm and wit like you. Will you accompany me to my new life, perhaps for a sum?"

"I'd travel the world with you, just to see that blaze in your eyes."

He smiles.

She rolls her eyes.

Their adventure begins.


Deb K is a writer from the USA. She's a violin virtuoso, an environmental activist, a poignant actress, and a pretty wicked writer (as you can obviously tell). If you think's she's the most mind-blowing person you've ever met, I agree.