The Greatest Fear 3

She walked along a looking at the beaten path that ran through an ocean of swaying waist-high grass, looking up occasionally at the darkening horizon. Once or twice she saw a hawk wheeling across the sky, or maybe it was a vulture waiting for something to die. She kept walking staring at the path looking up occasionally, until the path came to end in a small town filled with small wooden buildings and people that stopped for a few seconds and stared at the stranger in their midst before going back to what had occupied them before her. She looked up and headed towards the biggest building, opening the door when she reached it.
The people inside looked up from their talks and drinks as the door opened and shut behind her. Heading towards the darkest corner furthest from any other table she looked at the people staring at her through the corners of her eyes; registering that almost all of them had swords belted to their waists, that their hands were heavily callused and scarred from years of sword work, and that several of them were having a hard time sitting up straight. As she reached the table, pulled the chair out, sat down, and pressed her aching head onto her crossed arms, closing her eyes as she did so, she could feel their eyes sizing her up the same way she had them.
Something pressed uncomfortably into her thigh from her pocket. She pulled one arm out from underneath the other and slipped it into her pocket without moving her head from its comfortable position on her other arm. Her hand surfaced with several round and oval metal shapes, which, she saw when she lifted her head and opened her eyes, were of varying colors and sizes.
She looked around at the other tables, chin resting on her re-crossed arms, eyes half-closed effectively hiding them from the others in the room, watching as a man pulled out similar shapes from a pouch on his belt and hand two of the smaller, silvery shapes and give them to a woman who was waiting with a tray of food balanced on one hand while the other was stretched out to receive the metal object the man handed to her. As the hand closed the woman set the food tray down in front of the man. She watched as the woman turned and examined the coins in her hand, a scowl set in her face as she saw them.
The woman walked over to her table, thrusting the two pieces of metal into the pocket of the half-apron that she wore, a scowl still on her face. The woman opened her mouth and said something that she didn’t understand, so she laid three large silver coins down on the table and pointed to what the man was eating noisily from.
The woman looked at her strangely for a few seconds, then scooped the coins off the table and went back to long, scarred, wooden bar and shouted something through a door by the bar. An answering yell sounded from whatever lay beyond, and she lay her head back down on her arms, groaning slightly as the pulsing behind her eyes stepped up a notch.
A hand tapped her shoulder a few minutes later and she heard a thud as something was placed in front of her. Lifting her head once more she saw a tankard full of something or other, which she finished without a second thought in three big gulps. The woman who had taken the metal from her came back this time laden with the tray of food. As soon as the tray was in front of her she wasted no time in cleaning the plates of meat, vegetables, and fruit.
As she was finishing the meal she heard shouts coming from the opposite end of the barroom. When she looked up, a fast disappearing fragment of meat hanging out of her mouth, she saw two men that could barely remain standing reach for their swords. Well… This could be interesting.
As she watched the two men draw their blades and the rest of the patrons either remove themselves from the premises or move the tables back to give the fighters more room, she was reminded once more of the man she had killed on her first night. She watched as the first blood was spilled from the thick forearm of the man who had drawn first. She felt her muscles tense as the blood dripped slowly towards the floor. Her eyes followed each droplet of blood until it hit the floor, then it felt like the world was moving in slow motion.
She stood and walked quickly over, pushing people aside as she went. The two men had their swords locked, each grunting with effort as they tried to push each other back. As she moved through the barricade of tables she saw the man who had been wounded draw a belt knife and smile slowly as he realized that no one had seen the action. She moved quickly now; inside the circle of tables, placing a hand on each man’s chest and shoving as hard as she could, each man falling flat on him ass and passing out from all the alcohol they had consumed.
She looked around at the angry faces of the almost drunk bystanders; not understanding, glancing around thorough hidden eyes. Suddenly they started shouting at her, and a man purposefully strode out of the crowd and settled into a fighter’s stance. An invisible hand gripped her intestines, squeezing until she could barely breathe. She didn’t want to kill again, and she couldn’t remember how to fight. The man on her first memory was a mistake; she didn’t really know how to fight. She looked around quickly, searching for a way out before she was attacked.
Something hit her hard from the side, knocking her from her feet and slamming her into the table barricade. Black dots danced threateningly in front of her eyes and she hurriedly blinked them away. Looking over at the man who had hit her, she felt a burning race through her and she settled into an unconscious fighting stance of her own. Standing straight up, eyes open enough to see but not enough to be seen, fists half clenched at her sides, full weight resting on her left foot, right foot balanced on the toes, staring straight at her opponent without blinking.
A look flitted through his eyes that she couldn’t catch, or understand. As he launched himself at her again she lashed out with her right foot, hitting him in the chest and knocking him to the floor. She felt an insane pride flick through her and she walked lightly, as if on a cloud, over to the disgusting, whimpering man.
She heard a distorted, excited voice speak inside her, sounding like bubbling blood and breaking bone, “Let us finish him! Just this once, just this one!” She pulled a knife from its’ pocket a raised her hand to throw it, a smile on her face that held no trace of humanity. Then suddenly something inside her snapped. She dropped the knife, something crossing her face as she leaped over the barricade of tables and sprinted toward the door. A fist came out of nowhere and hit her hard in the stomach, her body folding in half over the fist as her momentum came to an abrupt halt. Then the blackness came again as the voices roared in her ears.