Author: Sorry I couldn't get this up sooner, I was having writer's block. And it is only thanks to Evangeline Crow that I have finished. Thank you Evan-chan! (I can call you that???)
Jarred: *reads over shoulder* The death grip is *scary*.
Author: Yes, it is. But then, you know from experience, don't you???
Jarred: I thought we weren't supposed to give any spoilers.
Author: That wasn't a spoiler.
Jarred: *rolls eyes* Fine. *Steals paper*
Author: Jarred. . . . *chases around room*
Jarred: I just want to read it. *innocent eyes*
Author: Read it then, *Princey-boy* And this is chapter 2 of Deltora Shattered.
The red eyes flicked back and forth methodically. She watched the humans silently, as they moved about beneath and beyond the roof of the house on which she perched, in the outskirts of Del. The girl knew three thins about humans, only three:
They were easy to hunt.
They communicated in a very strange way;
And they were tasty, very tasty.
She did not speak any human language, or understand it. The girl didn't' really have a name. I she identified herself under any name that could be translated to human-speak, it would be the first few things she had ever seen; blood, and stone. The girl seemed to deserve this name—her ruby eyes were hard as stone and her fingernails and lips stained with blood from her last meal.
It was concentration that hardened her eyes today. She was searching for someone. She'd just picked up his strange scent. Blood-Stone didn't understand the boy's scent; it was strange and inhuman, yet he looked like any normal young adult human.
She did, however, know something about his scent. It smelled even more tasty than human.
She glided to the next building; following the scent. A boy stared up at her with incredulous hazel eyes, but the girl continued on her way—she had to keep her concentration. This place was filled with the scents of smoke and metal and it became difficult to follow the scent trail. It took her only a few moments more to pick up the scent thread once again, and to continue her predatory search.
The red-eyed girl found what she was looking for in a shed-like building. The predator was smart for only being eight or nine years old; she was humanoid in every aspect but her strangely colored eyes and hair.
Because of the girl's instinct and intelligence, she knew that it would be idiotic to attack her prey in the enclosed, windowless space. No, the black-and-red-haired girl waited; minutes, hours, nearly a day she waited. She was motionless all that time, then, in an instant, sprang into action.
* * *
The dark haired boy climbed the stone wall behind the forge, scanning the yard with cautious eyes as he landed on the other side. He noted the motionless figure; she was beside the shed, plainly waiting for him to show himself.
Oh, but it's not that easy.
He approached her, silently but in plain view. She was downwind of him—she wouldn't know he was there until he wished it so. Temythas made no sound as he stood behind her, listening to her quiet breathing as she waited for him. He leaned forward, his mouth beside her left ear, and whispered, 'It is foolish to so often wear such a form."
As Temythas had suspected, she whipped around; not understanding the words, but knowing by scent the boy she had been hunting; her prey.
Her red eyes were confused; but her fingernails were already inches long, and she had but a moment's hesitation as the nails were at his throat.
A flash of silver; they were gone; the hand that had returned the dagger to his belt, around her neck, squeezing, lifting her off the ground.
Temythas watched her eyes, scared, flicker from her broken nails, to his face, and back to the nails. He saw them widen, her gaze turning from fear to terror, as she began to feel the effects of the death grip.
She was a cat who had pounced on a very dangerous mouse, and like a cat she knew that running was the best chance of survival. She writhed helplessly in his grip.
Seeing her tactics, Temythas loosened his grip on her neck, his expression pained. Her eyes didn't change, but she hesitantly lifted her hands to pull his away from her neck.
He couldn't kill her; he knew that all too well. However. . . .
A slight jerk of his arm and her hands lost their hold on his. He smiled, his grip slowly tightening. . . .