Crow's Feathers

Chapter 7

Trigger: Harsh language/imagery, fighting

'Home' is not what I would call the clan. I would call it a kingdom. Thousands of people bustling about, all rushing to get from one place to another. Each had the glimmer of a necklace sitting proudly on their  collarbones. Upon closer inspection there were nine different types of necklace. Three metals, and then each metal had three tiers. This must be their social ranking system.

"We brought back someone the elders would be pleased to meet." Ezra spoke to the tier one gold blocking our entrance. He held his menacing looking pike out to the side. Suddenly, all I could think about was exactly how to take this guy out. Like some instinctual gut feeling. It was something I used to do in the hallways at school, once I got to the higher grades at least. But now I could see every single little detail that could end this guys life. A dent in his armor here, the way he was holding his pike left him open to attack here, and he neck was completely exposed there. I could go on for a couple minutes if I wanted to.

"You know the drill Ezra." he spoke in a rough voice of someone who hasn't gotten good sleep in a couple of days, another weakness to note. Ezra pulled out the necklace from his cloak, showing off a dazzling white diamond set in a tier three gold plating. The guard pulled in his pike and motioned us through, going back to his battle stance as we walked away.

I was walked to what i thought could be the center of the palace, home, clan, whatever these survivors called it, and was standing in the center of the group when Ezra turned to me. 

"I'm going to have to take that knife. Can't have another assassination on our hands." One of the other guys laughed.

"You mean another on your hands." He said in a booming gravely voice.

"We need not bring that up, not with your placing anyways." I noticed as he said that, that not one of the other members of the hunting party was higher ranked than a tier three silver, meaning Ezra was the highest ranking by a lot. Saying something like that to him, I'm guessing, is like a servant telling a noble to go fuck himself. 

Ezra turned to me as I handed him the blade, sadness entering his eyes. "Sorry." he says quietly.

"I don't mind them." I said reassuring him with a soft voice.

"No, I mean this." He says as he ties my hands together.

"I was expecting something like that."

We walked forward into the chamber, Ezra again getting us through with the jewel around his neck. Guards opened the last door to an open chamber with desks covered in maps. Around the edge of the room sat thirteen chairs and in each chair sat a person wearing a platinum necklace, the jewel set in the center.

"Another test, Ezra?" The person in the center of the chairs leaned forward enough into the light, and he looked to be the oldest in the room.

"Axca, trust me. He's a special one. Just let him tell his story." Ezra said, almost pleading.

Axca turned his attention to me. "Do as he says, tell us your tale."

I spent the better part of an hour retelling what I knew and answering questions from everyone.

"The initiation into this clan is difficult and stressful. Good job, you're halfway done." Axca said once I was finished.

"Alright then, what's next?" Axca flicked his eyes towards Ezra.

"I don't like this one Ezra. Cocky, like you."

"Axca was it? Could we get on with it, these shackles are rubbing against my wrists." He looked somewhat perturbed but spoke again.