Edited
Chapter 5 - A very bad idea indeed.
The cool morning breeze sweeps over my cheeks, brushing the loose strands of hair from my high ponytail into my face as I trudge towards the house. My bow swung comfortably over my shoulders with my full quiver, not one shot having been made. Typically, I see all the action when I'm barely equipped.
Pressing a hand to my stitched-up stomach I wince in discomfort; the pain begins to surge through my body and the stiffness of my cold joints threatens to seize up entirely. Gritting my teeth and bearing through the pain and stiffness I reach for the door handle and swing it open.
Throwing my head back lazily I glance once more behind me, doing a quick scan of the back garden even though I know Rogues won't necessarily attack in broad day light. That'd be way too risky, but then again there's a chance they might.
Never say never.
I rub my eyes, a yawn escaping as I enter the kitchen.
Home sweet home.
Bitterly wiping a tired hand over my face, I slip my bow and quiver besides the door, behind the old brown leather chair so it looks like it's been there all night. I don't need Mum asking why I'm carrying my bow and quiver around with me in the house. I'm in enough trouble as it is.
It's been a long night.
My fingers dance along the skin beneath my eye. Knowing without even glancing in a mirror the bags under them are more like bruises. I'll sort them out with a bit of make up later. Right now, no one can see me, so I can look like a slob if I want to. The perks of being a grumpy teenaged girl; we can be slobs, and nobody will say a word unless they want their head bitten off.
Brushing a hand through my tangled, windswept hair I walk further into the kitchen and reach for the kettle, the only thing left on the side besides the 3 mugs and Mums travel mug. Might as well start the day off with a peace offering. I don't need to be in a bad mood with both my mother and Nan. But then again, I'm an award-winning teenaged rebel.
Trudging to the sink I lean heavily on the side as I fill the kettle, my head pounding and eyes staring blindly out the window. I contemplate the quietness of the evening and morning. I'm still not quite sure if it's a bad or good sign that I haven't seen any extensive Rogue activity yet. My fingers drum against the side with barely contained restlessness. They wouldn't have sent scouts ahead if they weren't thinking about attacking us immediately after. I just hope I got the message across clearly 'attack us and you die.'
Just another one of my thoughtful, friendly messages.
Alpha Golds warriors can handle it from here. No doubt they're on full alert after finding the Rogues I dispatched.
Removing the kettle from under the water before it over flows I release another terrible yawn. It seems too quiet; not even one Rouge came barrelling out of the darkness to attack me. Although, I'm more than sure there were more scouts prowling around the place, but they must have got the message when I knocked an arrow in my bow.
The rules of the game are shifting even further into the forbidden. It's kill or be killed and after the scout attack I'm more than sure the stakes have risen. Those Rogues were going for the kill shot, not the knock out. I don't know what's happening, but their orders are no longer to take me alive, they're to kill.
I slam the kettle onto the base and flick the switch with my finger, scanning the kitchen as I lean against the side, arms folded over my chest and ankles crossed comfortably over. Hopefully, they've missed their chance to attack us and won't try on the way to Nan's, I don't need to be dealing with that.
