Daily Write - Night on the Row (Part 3)

He was hunter, as was she. They talked about the difference between the woods and the city. They talked about animals, both as prey and companions. Then he asked how good she was with a bow. She took another drink.

“Used to be one of the best in my clan. Could hit a squirrel at a hundred pace in the dark.”


“And now?”
Her shoulders visibly sagged as her chin fell closer to her chest,“Couldn’t hold a bow if I wanted to.”


“Hands shake every time you pull the arrow back?”


She turned around, a little surprised at that response. She couldn’t tell what facial expression he had under that helmet, but she guessed he had a wry grin playing across his lips.

“Same happened to me after my wife and son died. The one thing you know how to do and even that is taken from you.”


“How did you get over it?”


“I killed the bastard who killed them.”


“I don’t really have that option,” she said, sighing “But the alcohol helps with the nightmares.”


“What happened to you?”


She turned back around and stared at the street in front of her. No wagons or carts came by this time of night. The lamp lighters had come and gone hours before. Still the riff raff that hung around spilled out into the streets, just as raucous and uncouth as when the evening had started.


“Nothing that’s worth talking about.”

He frowned. Well she couldn’t be sure he was frowning. But the awkward silence led her to believe that he was. She sighed and corked the bottle. He had just admitted to murdering a man. The least she could do was stop drinking for the moment and reciprocate a bit. Besides, she could already tell that her face was getting red and soon enough, she wouldn’t be able to string together a coherent sentence.


“Got dragged to some island where a group of us were captured by a crazed gnome claiming to be a scientist. We were overpowered and locked away in his dungeons for about a week or so. Don’t really know how much time passed. He toyed with us, mostly. Lab rats for his experiments. We all had our own personal torture rooms.”


Even with her alcohol soaked mind, she could feel that poison coursing through her body once again, driving her crazy. The blinding white light, the bone chilling screams. The screaming would probably be something she could never forget. However, her brain could not hold onto those thoughts for very long. It had slipped into that warm and comfortable spot where there was no holding on to much of anything. The moment a thought went by, it soon left. She now functioned on nothing more than the fringes of her intellect and base instincts.

There was a soft clink of shifting armor as he stood up. He was taller than she suspected he would be. A high pitched whistle came from underneath the helm. In response, a large shaggy wolf came bounding to his side, tongue lolling between a set of ominous looking fangs.


“It has gotten late, so I will have to take my leave for the night, Miss…?”


She never liked people calling her Miss. It made her feel old and stuffy. But it showed that he was polite. He definitely didn’t belong anywhere near The Row. Perhaps there was still some worth in the theory that she was making conversation with an inanimate object her brain had brought to life.


“It’s Cixi.”


“It has been a pleasure, Cixi. My name is Kalecsin, but most simply call me Kale.”
He started to walk away, but was stopped when she spoke up after him.


“All this time we spent here talking and you aren’t going to at least let me see your face?”
He paused, reached for his helm and slowly pulled it off. A messy tangle of crimson hued hair, tied into a single bundle, fell down his back. He looked at her. He grinned. She wished that filter between her brain and mouth was back in place.


“Like what you see?” he asked, obvious that he wasn’t expecting an answer.


“You’re easy on the eyes,” she responded, wishing she wasn’t so forward, but couldn’t do a thing to keep it from happening.

“I am glad to hear that you think so. I have been admiring you from the moment you sat down.”


Cixi snickered at the compliment, reaching for her bottle, which surprisingly she hadn’t emptied yet,“I’m drunk, what’s your excuse?”


“My excuse?” he repeated. A small grin formed at the edges of his mouth, “You’re pretty.”