Nora's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Nora heard them before she saw them. Two voices, low and angry, crashing through the brush behind the grove. The traffickers had found her trail. Her left wing still bled from the crossbow bolt, and blood left a bright path across the ferns. She could not fly straight. If they caught her, the cage waited again. She pushed off the twisting trunk and stumbled into the trees. Her hurt wing dragged. Branches clawed her arms. Behind her, one man laughed. The other shouted her name like he already owned it. Nora ran toward light. Beyond the last dark trees she saw rooftops, red and blue, crooked chimneys, a stone gate. A town. People. She fixed her eyes on it and forced her legs faster. The tree line was close. Ten steps. Five. She broke through the brush and fell onto a cobbled street. Market stalls, startled faces, the smell of bread. She scrambled up. Behind her the two traffickers burst out of the trees, one with a burned arm, the other with a swollen, ruined nose. The nose one drew a knife. "Come here, little bird," he said. A huge shape stepped between them and Nora. He was a half-orc, taller than the stalls, grey-green skin, tusks, long black hair. His fists were the size of stones. The townsfolk near him shrank back on instinct. He did not look at them. He looked at the knife. "Leave her alone," the half-orc said. Just that. Plain and flat. A second man slid up beside him, younger, brown hair, red horns, a red tail, a grin already on his face. He glanced at Nora's torn wing and the blood, then at the two men. "Two on one wounded girl," the horned one said. "Real brave. You boys want to explain that to the whole market, or you want to run?" The burned trafficker lunged for Nora. The half-orc moved first. He caught the man by the collar and threw him into a stall. Wood cracked. The knife-man swung at the half-orc's side. The horned boy flicked a small vial from his jacket and smashed it at the man's feet. Grey smoke boiled up. The trafficker choked, blind, swinging at air. Nora did not waste it. She dropped low, swept her good wing sideways, and struck the knife-man's legs out from under him. He hit the cobbles hard. The half-orc pinned the burned one flat. Townsfolk closed in now, shouting, brave in a crowd. The two traffickers saw the odds turn. They wrenched free, scrambled up, and fled back into the dark trees empty-handed. Nora stood in the market, shaking, alive, not caged. The horned boy offered his hand. "Beau," he said. "That's Garrett. You're bleeding pretty bad. Lucky for you, patching people up is kind of my thing." Garrett nodded, careful, like he feared his own size. "You're safe now," he said. Nora took the hand. For the first time since the cage, she was not alone.