Walk Amongst The Myth

51~

They were soon back at the North Woodland and morning was here. Marcrya caught a raven and wrote a letter. After strapping it onto the black bird, she told it where to go. "Find the werewolves or vampires in the Western Wastelands. Give them the note after the calling." She said in griffin tongue, which was conveniently similar to a bird's. The raven flew off and Marcrya mounted Thuhnder once again. "Alright. Let's set the arena." She said as Thuhnder headed for the Aqua tower in the distance. Marcrya had left a note on her way from the East Village. The bait was set. Her comrades were called. Now, it's time to prepare. Marcrya grabbed the wand from the saddlebag. She then placed iron horseshoes on Thuhnderheart. "This will aid you." She said. Thuhnder neighed. She casted a spell of communication which led her to the sorcerer. "Mr. Anelixir. I need your help!" She said, explaining her plan and the situation. Malopor agreed to help, with some of Marcrya's persuasion, and started working. Marcrya grabbed a bow and arrow and began practicing. She hadn't used a bow and arrow for a few years, but she eventually got the hang of it. Soon, Marcrya felt the ground shook from the horses' hooves of the army. She mounted Thuhnder, which had horse armor, and watched as they arrived. It was Derrick leading twenty others. "I see no army of beasts." He said to her. Marcrya smirked. Her hood covered most of her face. Derrick laughed. "I doubt a girl like you can defeat us all!" He shouted, charging. Marcrya made Thuhnderheart fly up, dodging the army. Derrick growled. "Kill her!" He shouted. Archers fired arrows at Marcrya. It wasn't much of a bother considering she either dodged them or blocked them. She held out her wand and casted a spell to them all. A barrier trapped them. Derrick was the only one out. He aimed his gun and fired at Marcrya. Blood spilled and she fell off of Thuhnderheart. Derrick laughed again. He walked to Marcrya's body, only to be flung back by a vampire. Marcrya got up. "But... how?!" Derrick asked weakly. She held out her hands and revealed the perfectly clean bullet with no red on it. "I caught it. This is just a blood berry stain. The berries are common here in the North Woodlands." She said, crushing the bullet. Derrick growled again and lunged at her. She moved out of the way and kicked him. She took his gun and threw it into a tree. Her blade was unsheathed and pointed at him. "Wait! Have mercy! Please!" He begged. "I am part beast. You said they were ruthless. It's pointless to beg for mercy!" She said, thrusting the sword. The blade did not reach him. Marcrya was frozen in place. Derrick looked at her in confusion. "Marcrya. Please, little one. You hate humans because they're cruel. Because they think that we beasts are nothing but monsters. Show him we're not. Show them that we're nothing like what they think we are." How, mother? By letting this monster go? Marcrya didn't move. Dewdrop's voice didn't tell her anything else. Thuhnder was beside her. Marcrya broke her barrier. Derrick and the other guards were confused. "If I catch you in my sight or hear about another party kill, I will hunt you down and stab you, understand?" Marcrya asked. Derrick slowly got up. She turned around and started walking. Derrick grabbed his dagger and charged at her. Before he could do anything, however, Marcrya's blade impaled his stomach. The blade slipped from his hands and nicked Marcrya. His army stared at the corpse, gaping and startled. "Do whatever you want with them." Marcrya said, mounting Thuhnder. The vampires surrounded the army and screams rang through the forest. Marcrya looked up while Thuhnder trotted. A stream of smoke was rising from afar. She smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Anelixir." She muttered. Everyone, including Derrick's army at the East Village, was missing that day. The only trace of their existence was the burned meeting place. The sun set and the sky was dyed orange. Marcrya rested against a tree, holding her cut as a trickle of purple rolled down. Her eyes soon drooped closed, never to open again. A poisoned dagger. How clever.