Just Lyca Lady

Chapter 11 : For now...

As soon as I felt David being jerked from me, I clasped after anything, my fingers just managing to catch hold of the boy's rag of a shirt.

"Let go of him!" I demanded and tried to pull the child back to me, but in honesty, neither would accomplish a damn thing. Grubby wanted to be the hero who slayed a lycan, so words were useless, and he had enough muscle over me to win out in a tugging match.

So, really, what was there I could do? Come up with something.

The sound of the masses cheering and shouting was drowned by the deep and rapid thudding of my heart in my ears, and my skin felt as if it was being pricked by hundreds of needles. I looked from Grubby and his nasty smile to David. The boy's eyes were clamped shut, mouth dropped open to let a steady stream of screams escape, and his limbs flailed about as much as they could. My jaw clenched.

There had to be something I could do. Had to. Think, Anna.

My glare burned with desperation and rage, and was set upon Grubby once more. How could no one else have seen that the snaggletoothed tub of lard was the actual animal that needed puttin' down—no, not just him. Every damned person who encouraged him. They were the animals—they were the filthy, mindless, and dangerous mongrels. So, why not deal with them the same way Father dealt with the hounds when they didn't behave?

It always worked for Father...

Letting a hand go from David, I tightened it into a ball, and treated Grubby like the misbehaving dog he was; I smacked him in the nose. Over the low thrumming in my ears, the townsfolk's shouts, and David's scream, I still managed to hear the clear and satisfying crack as the bridge of Grubby's nose gave in to the force of my small fist.

Everything came to a moment's halt. Lips parted, faces washed white, and eyes went large of each person who was able to see what had happened. Grubby's brow rose, and his stare held a sense of vacancy, as if he was trying to grip what had happened. Blood began to leak from his nostrils, but still he only blinked and tried to make sense.

Looking back to David, I again grabbed his shirt and gave a solid jerk. Grubby had succumbed to shock, and his grip had loosened just enough for me yank the child from his pudge-fingers. Instead of cradling the boy in my arms as he near flew to my custody, I let David's feet hit the ground and quickly began to tug him behind me. The further from Grubby, the better.

And...the moment of still passed. The whitewashed faces turned red, voices rallied together to form a constant blare of protest, and Grubby pulled his way from his dumbfounded state. I was no longer just a little girl who held a bleeding heart for a crying child; I was no longer just a sympathizer.

Directly defending a werewolf was, well, it was as condemning as being a wolf depending who was around to witness. In my case, I had near a whole town who would all act as the jury, judge, and executioner. In a formal trial, I could have argued the truth that David was not a lycan, not just yet at least. Only a bitten. Little difference, though it would have been enough to skimp by.

But I wasn't before a court. I was in front of an angry mob out for one thing: blood. Whose? They didn't care as long as it stained the soil red and felt like a victory for humankind.

Mine would do.

Grubby, chub-cheeks shaking with anger and scowl digging deep into his face, tightened his grip on his dagger. "You wee lil' bitch." A glob of spit flew from between his cracked lips with his words. "You'lls pay for that."

A protective arm ensured David's safety behind me, and my other stayed at my side, fist clenched. Grubs pulled his dagger just above his shoulder, planning to go for the classic downwards swing. Yes, this approach allowed for a strong attack that didn't have to fight gravity, instead having its aid in gaining power, but there was a drastic flaw in a full-arch swing. Vulnerability. All of Grubby was exposed, and the only thing I had to do was find a way to take advantage of it before his feet brought him the short stride and a half to me.