A small arm reaches towards me and my knees feel like they are about to buckle, rubble floor be damned. Blood pumping through my veins, I reach out with her, one hand on my heart, the other towards my goddess.
An unfamiliar pull of a smile shifts the mask concealing my face. But before I can reach the beautiful woman above me, something hard smacks against my shoulder.
Another skims my mask.
Then a final hits straight between my eyebrows. Hard.
What in the ever loving fuck am I doing?
That second tap to the head was clearly what I needed to shake out of whatever bullshit fairytale I was chatting there because there isn’t a fucking goddess in this world and the shit eating grin attached to that body of mischief up there is definitely not one.
The callouses on my palms find a new use now, simply catching the shitty throw from this little shit.
The cool stone of the jagged sphere she just hurled towards me leaves my palm as I lob it back up towards her.
Could I have thrown it a little harder so it would find its mark? Maybe.
Did I? No.
She ducks, hiding behind the metal shelving unit to her left. Filing cabinets hanging open on a tilt towards where I stand in this rancid hole.
A wet chill seeps through my cargos. The floor is covered in a layer of grime and murky water. Brown water. Water that smells like the foulest death and is burning my nostrils.
Dark golden locks flutter above. The beautiful brown of a deer bathing in the sunlight, and of course, it belongs to her. Framed behind her fluttering locks are her wide startled eyes looking back at me — all the bravado she had before falling.
Oh yes little deer, you’re in trouble now.
Only there are not many options I have. The gaping hole above me is at least ten feet tall and there is nothing but rubble and watery shit around me. It’s manky and enormously unhelpful. My fingertips graze my axes hanging at my back but instead of unsheathing them I drop my hands back to my sides.
‘Is that all you’ve got?’ The woman shouts down.
The nerve of this little shit.
She steps closer to the edge again. The movement causes the lip she is moving towards to crumble underneath, clearly not strong enough now that the rest of the floor has fallen in.
I feel my jaw tick as I watch her.
‘You seemed pretty scared, hiding away just a second ago,’ I taunt.
Her lips press together as frustration scatters across her face. Brows furrowed together in concentration.
‘I didn’t hide.’
I laugh. ‘So what exactly were you doing when you were following me?’ I ask because I know it was her that I could feel behind me this last hour.
I could feel something off but that’s not unusual when we leave the gaff. Most strays get a burst of confidence when we come out. Liam’s the worst of us, always taunting them like he has the last piece of candy… which technically we do, but rarely anyone approaches us.
We usually put down anyone we feel gets in our way but as I take in the ballsy woman above me I can’t help the way my mind reels in curiosity as to who she is.
Where did she come from?
She’s young, in her early twenties, I assume, but it’s hard to tell these days. She carries herself like she’s lived to be far older but most survivors do. She is not too timid, but the glint in her big, wide eyes still shows just what I need to know. She’s curious too.
‘I was curious. It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to recognise the signs of someone following you.’
Another step.
More rubble falls.