Page 24 of Warrior of the Wild
I feel everything.
The betrayal. The lies. The hurt.
Everything pours into me.
I start running, as if that will somehow let me escape it.
ITHOUGHTILOVEDTORRIN.I thought for the first time in my life, someone wouldn’t hate me for what I couldn’t control. I don’t ask for the praise I’m given—wasgiven. I didn’t get a big head or flaunt my talents. I didn’t ask for any of it. But my fellow trainees were still angry enough to get me banished. To send me to mydeath. Their malice ran so deep they had Torrin spend weeks pretending to be someone else. Pretending to like me.
I should have known. Mother told alie; she put her eternal soul in jeopardy to see me gone. If my own mother could hate me so much, how could I ever have deluded myself into thinking that a boy could care for me?
My legs ache, but I run faster, trying to outdistance the tears.
They come anyway, my first in years. I don’t fight them like I usually would; why would I when there is no one to see them?
Father would make the biggest complaint. I can hear his voice perfectly.Warriors don’t cry.
He could have helped me. Could have saved me, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave me the most difficult mattugr ever conceived. He, too, sent me to die.
How can a person hurt so much? The ache throbs up and down my body, soaking me in it. Pushing deeper and deeper.
A lone ziken rushes across my path. My hand flies to my back before I realize it’s not coming at me. It crosses the road and takes off through the opposite copse of trees.
I turn sharply to follow it, anger suddenly fueling my weary limbs.
Because—despite how everything played out—
I could have done it.
I would have beaten my trial had no one sabotaged it.
I can prove it. I’ll kill every ziken out in the wild if I have to. Maybe I’ll throw a head into the village boundaries every day until I die to prove it.
The ziken leaps over a fallen log, tramples over a small fern, churns up rocks in its haste.
Where is it going?
It zips between two trees and finally comes to a stop.
There must be at least a dozen of the beasts in the small clearing. They’re focused on some heap on the ground. I can’t get a good look at it because the ziken crowd it, all trying to sink their teeth into it, but it’s large.
My hand grips the cool metal just beneath my ax blades as I pull it from my back.
A horizontal swing takes off the head of the nearest ziken. It lands on the rocks below, but none of the other creatures take any notice. They’re too excited by the meat before them.
So I wreak havoc.
I put the faces of those whom I despise most across them. This one’s Torrin. That one’s Havard. Father, Mother, the council. Mother again. And again. And again. Her face is everywhere. That satisfied smirk, showing the pleasure she feels knowing she will never have to look upon my face again.
My chest heaves from the want of air. More of it. Faster. My thoughts are spinning.
Now that I’ve dispatched over half their numbers, a few of the ziken finally look up from the body before them. Oh goddess, I think it’s human. I’m certain it’s dead, but the muscles still twitch from all the fresh venom trapped within.
My foot steps on something that is distinctly not a rock, and I risk a glance down. It’s another battle-ax.
With my free hand, I lift the weapon from the ground. It feels heavier in my less dominant hand, but still right. An ax always feels good within my grasp.
Two ziken leap at me, red blood dripping from their maws. I bring both axes down, embedding the blades into their skulls. I pull the right ax out and use it to decapitate the other beast. Then I bring both axes down on the other one’s head.
