*SLIGHT GORE WARNING*
(More of Zahava's history.. This one's pretty long and is just slightly graphic to any of those who might be squeamish. Thank you for taking the time to read; you are greatly appreciated!)
Chapter 1||Chapter 2||Chapter 3
Someone who was walking around and taking care of the injured had wrapped her wounded hind leg and weaved a couple rough stitches through her worst gashes; there was no question that she was lucky to escape the battle alive and still standing.
There had also been a wagon going around, pulled by two large rams that offered to carry her back to camp. She refused, but her rider Tray went with them. The black doe preferred to walk and, deep down, she was still trying to grasp and come to terms with what had transpired.
The carrion birds had begun to land on the bodies, taking the meat while men in the Resistance tried to salvage the dead’s armor and weapons.
A shrill wail caught Zah’s attention. The hind swiveled her heavy head and neck to peer down at a dying man. He lay propped up against several dead bodies. His left arm was half hanging off, probably a result of an attack from a fighting canine or feline. Dark steely armor, characteristic of the King’s army, was barely recognizable under all the blood. With bottomless pits for eyes, he looked up at her in excruciating pain. The man’s mouth moved, though the doe couldn’t make out what he was trying to say.
She lowered her head and flicked an ear towards him to hear his hoarsely pained whisper, “Please… make it… end.”
Zah turned her head slowly to stare him in eyes, regarding him carefully. Vaguely, she recognized this was someone’s loved one. A father, a brother, a husband, a son, a friend. He wasn’t her opponent anymore; he was simply a dying man. This was no longer a battlefield; it was a mass grave. She could afford to be merciful now.
With one of her long spikes she ripped off his armor, exposing a heaving chest that struggled with the effort it took to breathe. Carefully, she placed a spike on the man, trying to position it in a way that would miss his sternum and ribs and stab him straight through the heart. Her eyes slid upwards to meet his gaze.
The gratitude in his eyes hit her like physical pain. He nodded, clutching at a necklace around his neck that was too feminine to be his; it must have been a good luck charm from a woman, a woman who was going to be distraught to learn it hadn’t worked…
“Go in peace, Soldier.” Zah whispered.
Gritting her teeth, she thrust the spike deep into his chest with the little strength she had left. She closed her eyes, wishing herself blind for the second time that day. It didn’t help; she felt his reactive struggle and heard his final gurgle of a breath.
When it was finished, she jerked the spike out of him and lifted her head to peer down at the dead man with eyes that had aged many years in that one day. She felt a stream of hot blood trickle off her spike down onto her head and then her neck. The hind suddenly felt like putrid filth. She had to go wash off the blood; she couldn’t stand it any longer. Something told her she’d never really be able to remove the stains though; they were more than skin deep.
Zah found a small pond nearby. Commander Tahoe was there, finishing up a drink it seemed. Zah didn’t look at him and didn’t hesitate to wade into cold water armor, saddle and all. She let the water rise over her back and neck, dipping her head to wash her face and antlers. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the imposing elk was also wading in. If he tried anything, she’d bite him. No... She’d stab him.
She shook herself violently, trying to get the caked blood off. When Tahoe got too close, she swung her head over to glare at him; this time, she remembered not to bare her gums. For a moment, they observed each other.
The bull seemed no more injured than she was. She noticed the underside of his neck had deep slashes that looked painful to say the least.
“Some of us are going into the city. I think it might help you if you came along,” he told her, his voice sounding old and tired.
Zah’s ears flicked back, not liking the fact that this one could see right through her. She didn’t snap at him though; instead, she merely nodded and spoke quietly. “Alright”
She followed Tahoe out of the pond, some of the blood having been washed off. The gauze around her hind leg had fallen off in the water, but the bite there didn’t hurt quite so bad now and she only limped slightly.
The stag walked slowly so the doe could keep up, and this irritated Zah for some reason. She keep a glower trained on his back as she followed, much preferring to stare at him than at the dead bodies they had to go back past.
“Why…” Zah started, trying to find a question to distract herself.
Tahoe kept patiently quiet, an ear flicked back to catch her words.
“Why’s all this necessary?” the black hind finally asked, ears pressed flat against her neck as she stepped over and around the bodies.
The elk paused to cast a knowing look back at her, “You’ll see.”
Zah followed Tahoe silently the rest of the way to the inner city of Gershona. The closer they got, the more daunting the cobblestone walls appeared. The doe’s head was low, and if she still had her tail it would have been tucked; never in a million years had she ever dreamed of coming to a human city like this; they would have killed her if she wandered within a ten mile radius of it actually. Humans didn’t like wolves. The deer though, they were another story. They were treated royally.
The towering, wooden gates of the city were wide open. Cheers, laughter, and music came flooded her ears and she could see dancing and celebrations going on within the walls. Zah wondered why.
“Put your head up, Soldier!” Tahoe snapped when he cast a sidelong glance at her. “Act like you’re worth something.” He sounded like a commander again.
Zah snorted and thought about stabbing him, nonetheless, she picked her head up, trying to keep it level with his. She kept a little closer to him than necessary, wondering why this place seemed even more intimidating than the battlefield.
They walked right into the middle of controlled chaos. The inner city was made up almost entirely of cobblestone and was alive and deep in celebration. People were singing and dancing as they tore down every sign and flag that bore the king’s symbol.
Before Zah knew what was happening, a woman had run up to her and threw a flowery vine around her neck and began to tie it. The doe reared slightly in surprise.
“Settle, Soldier,” the commander told her, bumping her shoulder with his. Someone was also tying the same fragrant contraption around his neck, although he didn’t seem too thrilled about it either. The delicate white flowers looked out of place over his bloody armor and around his thick neck.
Zah begrudgingly froze and allowed the woman to finish.
Tahoe turned to her after the women left, “These people have been controlled by King Darrow for five years now. He taxes them so ridiculously that many starve or go homeless. Everything is restricted and watched carefully by the King’s men. Today, they’ve been freed.”
Zah looked around again; she had never known anything but freedom. It was odd to see people crying tears of joy for something that seemed so simple.
When she turned back to Tahoe to ask him a question, he was gone. The doe’s head dropped, and she immediately felt out of place in the crowd of grateful townspeople. She hadn’t even wanted to fight in that battle, she’d been forced.
A young man ran up to her, and, to her surprise, bowed his head respectfully. He was dressed in what almost appeared like rags and spoke meekly. “Miss, would you be willing to help me with something?”
Zah stared at him for a moment, confused. Well, she didn’t plan on staying in the middle of the street all day, so, she nodded.
He looked up at her and smiled widely before turning to lead her through the dense crowd and to a little, stone store that sat along the main street. The wooden shutters on it were wide open to reveal a store that seemed to sell wooden furniture. Directly above the store, two of the King’s flags blew in the breeze.
“Do you think you could get those down?” the young man asked hopefully.
Zah looked up at the flags, judging the distance. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed an old, hunch-backed man had hobbled out of the store and was watching her with ancient, exhausted eyes.
The black hind reared up on her back legs, ignoring the pain in the right one. She was able to hook the very end of her spike on a flag and tear it down. The young one beside her grabbed the flag when she landed, and Zah pulled back herself. Between the two of them, they ripped the flag to pieces, doing the same with the second flag. By the time they were done, he was laughing and the older man was grinning. Zah herself felt a corner of her lip rise slightly without her consent.
She wandered off after that, exploring the city. Walking down the long, main strip, the doe was eventually interrupted by a small child who couldn’t have been more than five years old and not even four feet tall. The little thing ran up behind her and tugged her uninjured hind leg. Zah almost kicked him, she was glad she looked back.
“Are you a war stag?!” the little kid shouted excitedly.
Where were his parents? Zah turned to face him, staring down at him with a sideways glance like he was some kind of rabid animal that was threatening to bite. For a moment, she didn’t know how to answer that… Eventually she leaned her head all the way down to get eye level with him. “War hind,” she finally corrected.
“War hind… Do you think I could…” his voice trailed off in a mumble as he pushed a pebble around with his foot.
“Speak up, kid.” Zah told him; she didn’t know how to handle little pups like this. Her head swiveled a bit to turn an ear in his direction.
The little boy leaned forward and cupped her black ear with his little hands. He whispered, “Could I ride you?”
Zah jerked her head up; what a strange request. She peered down at the kid skeptically, as he shuffled his feet shyly. Then, she had an answer for the short boy… “Alright Kid, if you can climb up, you can have a ride.
The little boy looked ecstatic. He grabbed the stirrup and tried getting his foot in it, though he was several feet too short; he then tried hauling himself up by the same stirrup. For several minutes he tried everything to get up on the doe, refusing to give up.
Zah felt bad for him after a while and eventually bowed down on a knee to allow the little kid to scramble up. She twisted her neck to stare at the boy who sat high and proud in the saddle, “What’s your name, Kid?”
“Warren,” he told her, a permanent grin residing on his face.
“Alright, Kid,” Zah said, not exactly acknowledging the title, “hold on.”
For hours it seemed, the black doe carried the boy around the city, trying to keep her limp in check. People thanked her as she walked by, more flowery vines were hung around her neck, and people offered her food she just didn’t have the appetite for. It was surreal; all her life she had been a nuisance, a quite happy nuisance at that. The Resistance fighters knew that, and she assumed they’d still treat her as such. These people though, they saw her as a warrior.
Later, the Warren’s mother finally found her son on the back of the war hind. She scolded him, and thanked Zah. The doe bid the kid goodbye and walked off, completely exhausted by that point. The sun was closely approaching the horizon.
Commander Tahoe found her then. Zah was still irritated that he had left her earlier, but she followed him wordlessly out of the still celebrating city. The doe was done with celebrations; the weight of death still lingering. Though, to her puzzlement, it lightened her to see the freedom it brought these people.
“Did you see it?” Tahoe asked once they were well out of the city and on their way back to the camp.
It took Zah a moment to remember his answer to his question from earlier. She thought for a moment and nodded slowly, “I saw.”
Maybe it was worth it…
(I wish I could adequately express my gratitude to you for taking the time to read this.. Please, helpful critique is very welcome here.)
