Strange New Eyes

Chapter Seven - Trophies

Aysel gasped as the spear flew through the air. The throw was strong, but Dunyasha was fast; she turned her own spear sideways and knocked the projectile out of the air with a sharp crack that echoed through the snowy wood.

At the sound, their attacker turned and ran away from them into the thick trees. "He's running away?" Aysel said, confused.

"Then we need to catch him," Dunyasha said, dashing forward after him. "He's going to tell the others I brought a Letter, and then they'll want to kill us too. We need to stop him!"

Aysel followed after her, plunging into the deep snow, but it wasn't long before Dunyasha circled around and scooped her up from behind. Aysel squeaked like a lemming as she felt herself behind thrown head over heels onto Dunyasha's back. "Sorry for not asking!" Dunyasha said as they ran; "But it's faster this way!"

She had to agree; Dunyasha on all fours was faster than Aysel could ever run on two. She was more prepared for the bumpy, terrifying, unbalanced ride and no longer felt in constant danger of flying off. That she could actually see the trees rushing past this time thanks to the rising sun helped make it a bit less frightening as well. But as fast as she ran, there was no sign of the person they were chasing; even his footprints blended in with those of the battle from earlier.

"Damn! I think we lost him," Dunyasha said, slowing to a halt. She let Aysel slide off her back. "He'll tell whoever's still alive up there that we're coming," she said with a nod at the big pine— Aysel noticed it had stopped smoking— "and they'll kill us as soon as see us."

"I don't think so." Aysel grabbed her arm and pulled her into the nearest tree's needles. Dunyasha started at Aysel's hands suddenly on her arm, but allowed herself to be led into the prickly interior of one of the snow pines that thrived in this small mountain valley. "Hush," Aysel whispered.

"Why? What did you hear that I didn't?"

"Not hear. See. No more smoke, and there's fresh blood in one of the sets of bootprints. The People don't wear boots, right?"

Dunyasha grinned. "That's pretty clever, Aysel," she whispered in her ear.

Aysel glared up at her; she didn't want compliments from a murderer. She would have backed up, but she was trapped between Dunyasha and the spiky, sappy trunk of the tree. "Shh."

Not far in the distance, someone shouted out in fear or pain. Yells rang out through the frigid forest, then silence, and then, inexplicably, laughter.

Aysel tilted her head, trying to understand the voices. "One hit and it was down!" someone laughed. "This used to be considered an honor, remember?"

"Now it's just too easy to be anything more than a chore," someone else complained. "Besides, all the tough ones went early on."

"And we didn't even get a good fight earlier; the only things holding out in that Ancients-forsaken tree were only their young and their weaklings."

"I was hoping for a big final stand like with those Beasts a few cycles ago, the ones we cornered in their cave. Remember?"

A moment later, dozens of people in red cloaks broke through the trees. Behind them they each dragged several People, none of them moving and all of them bloodied. A strange feeling ran through Aysel's chest; the corpse closest to her used to be the person they were chasing. He wouldn't be telling anyone anything now.

"Take these ones back with the rest, right?" one of the women dragging them asked.

"Back to camp. No use trying to make trophies out here," a man answered. "The cuts will be rough and we'll make them even uglier than they were before."