The Other Daughter

Chapter 5

Murder was a simple act.

If anyone knew that truth well, it was a Branwen Tribe member. Especially one from its most respected dynastic line. Yet today, Yang Branwen, Princess of the dozens upon dozens of followers under Raven's command, whose respect she earned both by birthright and through personal deeds, faced a choice that was anything but simple.

The raid was happening now, whether she liked it or not. The tribe, led by her efficient and goal-driven mother, would not wait. She was expected to pull her weight. To strike. To kill.

Yang wiped her brow, walking over to where Vernal crouched low, peering over a row of bushes. A far-off patch of unmanaged grass housed several Beowolves, sinister black miasma floating around them in thick clouds while they stalked their unmarked territory. They were ferocious, no doubt, but worse still, they were patient. They were waiting for their next victims to come along.

The plan was very clear-cut: move in on the Grimm, overpower them, and lead them in the direction of the villagers. Ordinarily, the rest took care of itself, and Yang lounged around with the others, waiting to loot any spoils they could find. Today was different. It had to be. Something inside her was moved by what she saw, sending a shiver through her body. Yes, she knew it all along. Although it pained her to admit it, whether her involvement was indirect or not, this was no different from murder. She was a killer.

"Miss Vernal," she started, her voice weak at first.

"Shhh!" Vernal whispered, placing a hand on Yang's bright blonde hair to push her down and out of sight. "Are you trying to get us caught, Princess?"

"No," Yang replied, clenching her fists. She kept her voice low, but firm. "Sorry. Anyway, don't you think we ought to wait?"

The moment the words left Yang's mouth, she saw the shadows of more tribesmen out of the corner of her eye. They spread out around her and Vernal, no more than ten, filling out the spaces remaining in the reconnaissance unit. Vernal held up a palm to put the operation on hold while they talked.

"Wait?" Vernal echoed. "Why? This is what your mother ordered. I thought you came to help me lead the push."

Yang looked away, trying to find the right words. There weren't any right words though, were there? Maybe it was too late now. What could she, one girl, do to change a tradition that had gone on longer than she'd even been alive?

"Forget it," she blurted out half-heartedly, if only to redirect her friend's focus.

Vernal swept the area with a quick scan, then signaled the other group members, whispering over her shoulder. Nodding, they moved forward in unison, encircling the pack of Beowolves with their blades, blunt weapons, and guns drawn. Yang reached for hers, then followed Vernal's movements to the letter, slowly picking up speed to charge alongside her. This was the big moment. It was happening, and for the first time in her life, she could honestly say that she was hating every second.

One of the much larger Beowolves, clearly an Alpha, sniffed and craned its neck toward them as they closed in. There was no turning back now. Vernal snapped both disc-like blades off of her back, swinging one, and then the other. The Alpha leapt away, leaving two of the lesser Grimm to get sliced in half. Yang took a breath, then crouched and blasted herself skyward, closing in on the descending Alpha. She flipped backward in mid-air and landed a powerful kick to its stomach, chipping away at a section of bone before she, and it, crashed onto the dirt, disoriented. She knew she had to get moving, and fast. Exactly as expected, the remaining Beowolves rushed toward their unexpected intruders. One of them clawed at her leg, but was promptly eliminated by a thin beam shot from one of Vernal's chakram-guns. Yang kicked out with both legs, the momentum pulling her up onto her feet. Then she strafed away, blade in hand. Vernal moved in behind her, and they stared down the Grimm, back to back.