Unresolved || Rowin and León
@the-life-we-fear
‘He is a smart man to pick us for this job,’ León said, twirling an arrow between his fingers. ‘We are the best.’ He flashed Rowin a bright smile. It was probably the brightest since their escape months ago.
Ever since meeting Reuben and his mother, León had seemed rejuvenated. But something about the golden smiles felt strange. ‘And when we are done, they will help us!’
The disaster began with the groan of metal and the rumble of wooden wheels. His feet moved of their own volition as he raced down the hard-packed dirt road. León’s heart and lungs twisted within him and he could hear his blood rush through his ears.
Before he knew it, he was standing atop a hill with his bow drawn, staring mere strides away from a slave caravan.
‘For fuck’s sake.’ A rider in black velvet and a feather cap sighed in relief when he saw the short nymph take aim. ‘I thought you were a bandit.’ His friends laughed as he dismounted. ‘Make yourself useful, boy. The wheel is stuck.’
León’s arms shook, bow slipping in his sweaty palms as he stared down at the slaver and his caravan. There were so many armed men guarding a single caged cart full of too-young nymphs and elves.
‘Well?’ The slaver removed his gloves and beckoned León as if he was some slave of his. ‘The sooner you help us, the sooner we can get a move on.’
‘Help you?’ León glanced at the arrow trained on the slaver. ‘You do not see my weapon?’
The slaver and his armed riders snorted. ‘I see it, boy.’
‘Then you will listen to my demands!’
That earned him some of the slaver’s attention. ‘Oh, I will?’
‘Free them.’ León swallowed back the thickness in his throat, praying that Rowin would not undermine him at that moment. ‘And I will not put this in your eye.’ His hands were slipping, the higher poundage of this new bow making his back ache already.
The slaver laughed and the arrow buried itself in his right eye with a squelch that echoed through the suddenly silent clearing. His body dropped hard and his men fell silent.
León stared at the body, empty hand trembling with the sensation of a phantom string still digging into the pads of his calloused fingers. He didn’t mean to do that. Did he?
