Page 50 of Alpha Power

The pixie tried to stand, but her knees buckled. Zamorra thrust her hand inside to catch her before she fell, her reflexes so quick the pixie landed in her palm instead of a heap on the floor.

Zamorra breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled her hand out, being extra careful not to jostle her too much. "You're okay," she whispered.

Zamorra hated creatures... men like that, who thought they had the right to just take what they wanted without caring about what the other person wanted. It was how her mother grew up and she despised it.

The pixie gripped her tight, her tiny little fingers cutting into Zamorra's skin. She spoke, a tumble of words spilling out of her mouth, but Zamorra couldn't understand it, the language unknown to her.

"I-I'm sorry. I can't understand you."

"She said thank you for saving her," Luther said, putting the roof back on top of the house. It instantly slid off and crashed to the ground, making him sigh in annoyance.

"You speak... whatever she's speaking?"

"Sylvan. It's an ancient language from thousands of years ago. No one practices it anymore."

The pixie started to speak again, gesturing wildly with her hands. She spoke with anger in her entire body, smashing a fist into her palm over and over again. She ran a finger across her throat, imitating a blade and then spat, continuing to rant in her ancient language.

Luther chuckled, watching the pixie in amusement.

"What's she saying?" Zamorra whispered.

"She's describing, in pretty graphic detail I might add, what she would have done if she wasn't outnumbered."

The pixie stood, her strength returning. She jabbed the air, and then pretended to grasp something tightly, using her imaginary knife to hack at it with fervour.

Luther winced and covered his privates.

"What?" Zamorra asked, eyes darting between the two. "What's she saying now?"

"You don't want to know."

The pixie finally calmed down, her game of charades coming to end. She rose into the air, one of her wings struggling to work properly making her flutter up and down a few times before finally rising high, a cloud of green pixie dust surrounding her as she came face to face with Zamorra.

Up close, Zamorra was able to spot the little black horns on her forehead, the intricate pattern of black swirls that ran down one side of her body. She was a truly magnificent creature, unlike anything Zamorra had ever seen before.

The pixie twirled her hand in the air, magic sparkling from her tiny fingertips. Her tattered clothing vanished, replaced instantly with an identical set that wasn't ripped to shreds. A bindle stick appeared over her shoulder and a mini suitcase in her hand. She spoke in her ancient language, pointing to herself, then Zamorra, then back to her.

"Uh, what's going on?" Zamorra whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

Luther frowned, a curious look on his face. "She wants to go with you."

The pixie nodded emphatically, pointing between them again.

"What?" Zamorra asked, perplexed. "You can't be serious."

The pixie stomped her foot, frustrated with the language barrier. She flew forward and perched herself on Zamorra's shoulder, crossing her legs. She spoke again as she folded her arms over her chest and gave them both a hard look.

"She said she's going with you, whether you like it or not."

Zamorra turned her head to look at the tiny pixie. "Why?" She asked, confused.

"You saved me. A life debt is owed," Luther translated while the pixie spoke.

"You don't owe me anything," Zamorra said, shaking her head. Though, the idea of a pet pixie was enticing.

The pixie gave her a stern look and she knew right there and then there would be no changing her mind. She was determined and stubborn.

A lot like us,her werewolf commented.I can't wait to play with her.

---