Sly

Chapter Two

Davery

The sickening smack echoed off the clay buildings in the near-silent square. My breath caught in my throat, and I immediately looked to my hotheaded sister. Sly had a glow to the fury in her eyes, and a white-knuckled grip on her blade. I looked down to see her boots slide shoulder-width apart.

"Don't, Sly," I hissed. I put my good hand over hers and she tensed.

She looked at me, visibly upset. "But-"

"Don't." I put a little more pressure on her hand, and after a long span and several pounding heartbeats she clicked the knife back in her belt. I stifled a sigh.

Crack. My whole body flinched with the sound. In the square ahead of us was a city guard, and on the ground by him was a bloodied young man.

"Sorry, Davery," Sly said. Her angry green eyes met my pleading gaze, and she tore her hand from my grasp and ran off.

"Shit," I hissed, cursing myself for sending Jexa home.

I glanced over to Marak, he was seething at the scene before us. Another hothead when it came to the brutality of the guards, but one who didn't have the skills to back himself up like Sly did.

"Go home Marak." I instructed.

At first I thought the old man would argue, but Marak nodded sadly and hobbled away with his cane. The look on his face stung my heart, but I could make it up to Marak later. Right now I needed all of my attention for my bull-headed sister.

With Marak gone, I chased after Sly. I found her familiar faded blue tunic at the back of the crowd easily. I put a hand on her shoulder to let her know I was there.

"He's beating that boy." Sly hissed, eyes on fire. I cringed. That guard could have done anything but beat that boy with one of those gods damned sticks and it would be easier to talk her down from her rage.

"You don't know what he did," I whispered. "We can't step in, you can't show your face here and you know that. For all you know this boy is a murderer or a thief."

Her eyes flashed at me wildly. Alright, a thief was a bad choice of words.

"That doesn't make it right." She strained against the hand I still had on her shoulder.

"No." I gritted my teeth. "It doesn't. But you can't get caught. If you get stuck in one of those cages and they see your tattoo we may never be able to get you out again."

I squeezed her, pleading silently for some common sense to take over.

"We can get him help if they take him to the cages," I reasoned.

"But not before he's a bloody puddle," she whispered.

Sly watched the guard raise his stick again, and-

CRACK.

She lost it. My sister was gone from my reach.

I'd heard it too, the snap of bone that stuck in his throat, drying his mouth. It was enough to briefly relive the day I nearly lost my right hand.

Sly ripped her shoulder from my grasp and dropped her stance low, ducking out of view behind the crowd of onlookers before us and hiding from sight of the guard.

"I won't stand by and watch a beating this brutal," she hissed.

She looked so small in her tunic, but I knew she wasn't a child anymore. She could take care of herself now, she didn't need her big brother to coddle her anymore.