/=|= The Lost Raven =|=\
05
"A Good Tira is a Happy Tira!"
The sun hovered high in the sky, bathing a now dressed Tira in its warm comforting light. She lay curled up, asleep, tummy full, and content in one of the hammocks, floating comfortably a few feet over the earth. The camp looked like a tornado had hit it. She'd cut down their backpacks and scoured their things for something to eat, tossing everything non-edible aside until finally she struck jackpot! Some stale bread, some berries, and dates. Not a grand meal, but given that she was starving she found it quite yummy.
And even though she was starved, she remembered to share with her ravens because she was a good friend, and not selfish at all. They had a great meal together.
Oh, and the camp had blood everywhere too. Lots and lots of blood splattered all over the campsite. A few crimson pools reflected the otherwise peaceful day. In the middle of one of the bigger pools lay an unidentifiable black mass. Burnt, no doubt, to a crisp.
And tied to a tree, one of the bandits (the father) screamed through a gag which yielded odd muffled noises. Tira wearily reached down, snatched up a rock, and flung it blindly in his direction. "Mmph! I don't wanna wake up." The rock struck something, she heard its quiet thud, but had no idea what it actually struck. She doubted it hit its target.
I'm not that lucky.
It didn't seem to have any effect on the proclamations of "Mm! Mmph! Mgh! Rrrgh! M-mergmaph!" Tira sighed, rolled out of the hammock rather ungracefully and landed in a heap. But it was okay now. It was all okay now that she'd eaten and rested. The rush of adrenaline from the short fall actually felt pretty good. After her head cleared of the wakey-wakey-cobwebs, she giggled, straightened up, stretched out and dusted herself off. It felt so good not to be stuck in a damp dirty jail cell or cold noisy alley or cramped up in a pillory or crawling on all fours. Not just good, it felt great!
Today's gonna be a good day after all! She thought, strolling over to her prisoner where she plopped down with a bounce. She waved at him, a bright smile on her pretty face, and then said, "Hi! I'm Tira!"
A string of garbled hostile gibberish answered.
"I'm fine! Thanks for asking. How are you?"
Still gibberish, but judging by the bloodshot eyes, the throbbing veins on his forehead, and the high pitched intensity of the muffled voice, he wanted to bludgeon her to death.
"Why thank you! I rather like the color of my hair! It matches my eyes!"
He lunged forward all two inches he could muster.
"Aww!" Tira leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, "I could use a hug! Thanks!" He bucked, squirmed, yelled and screamed into the gag, hoping to snap his bonds and then her neck. But, alas, they wouldn't give. His captor literally pressed herself against him, squeezed him in her happy hug, and he could do nothing. Couldn't even bite her or headbutt her or anything. He was powerless, and she was all powerful. Tira couldn't help but giggle giddily as she pulled away. Still smiling, still bouncing in place with energy.
"Aw, why you such a party pooper this morning—well, it's not really morning is it?" She looked up at the sky, at the sun through the trees, "it's well after noon, isn't it? I slept through nap time. Oh well. Anyway, hey! Guess what! Guess what! I have some news that ought to cheer you up." She sat up, changing positions slightly so she could sit on her legs. And like a teenager gossiping with schoolmates, she went on in wide-eyed wonder, "See, last night I was really mad that I didn't get my apple. I mean, not only did you eat it in front of me after I gave you everything I had (which I'm not even that upset about.) I'd of given my clothes for an apple. I was really really hungry. I wouldn't have been happy being naked, but at least I'd have something to eat and I guess it would be fair. I mean, it would've been great had you been nice and helped me just to be nice, but I'd have been okay with trading my pride for something to nibble on. You could've taken my clothes, given me my apple, and sent me on my way.
"But, you know what? You guys didn't trade." She tapped him on the nose like a master smacking a misbehaving dog, "I didn't get my apple, and you said I could have it. You lied! You ate it in front of me, and worse yet you didn't even have another one anywhere. And I looked everywhere! So I was mad. Really really mad! You robbed me, so I should rob you to be fair. But I decided since you two weren't fair to me, I wouldn't be fair to you. I wouldn't rob you, I'd kill the both of you! Then I thought, if I'm going to kill them with the fire right there, I might as well cook them and then eat them! Take care of two problems at once, and then I thought, Ooh! Ooh! I know! I'll tie them up, hoist them over the fire, and cook them alive! That'll really teach them!"
Caught up in the momentum of her own story, Tira closed her eyes and clapped at the brilliance of her idea. Then she rubbed her hands together, opened her eyes, and continued on. "But, I was too weak and tired to do that. I couldn't have lifted you guys up even if I did rig a pulley (which would've been too much work.) So I just slit your son's throat, cut him into pieces, and cooked him like that. He was yummy—"
The father's struggles reached a climax. He jerked, fought, squirmed, lunged, and struggled as much as his bonds would let him. The veins on his forehead looked ready to burst, and his eyes were opened so wide they looked ready to pop out. He even looked like he might manage to bite through his gag. He was kinda scary lookin'.
It didn't phase Tira, though. She went on, "but for you, I was going to wait till I was stronger, sleep off some exhaustion, have a bite of Junior. Then I was going to go through with my original idea and cook you alive cause you ate my apple damn it! Hey! Quit freaking out!" She leaned close, pinched his cheeks, and brought her face close to his so that their noses nearly touched. Then in a sincere tone, she made an honest effort to sooth him, "Shh! Calm down and let me finish! Okay? Just listen: now that I'm rested up, I'm feeling kinda lazy. I'm not really mad anymore, and I don't really want to go through the trouble of cooking you. I mean, I'd have to tie a bunch of knots and make a harness and then toss a rope over a tree branch and around the trunk of a tree. Then I'd have to hoist you up, and you look really heavy, and ugh do you know how much of a pain it is trying to tie a knot while holding a rope that's attached to something heavy? I dunno if I could even do that by myself. Then there's the fire I'd have to build, and after you were cooked I'd still have to cut you up, and yuck! Too much work! So I'm not going to cook you."
He went on to give a mean and nasty rant. Tira didn't understand a word of it. But there was no mistaking the tone. And it still felt like a slap to the face even though he was physically incapable of doing it. After everything she did, this is the way he thanks her?
Genuinely hurt, she said, "Bu-but I thought that'd make you happy."
He wasn't happy. In fact, it seemed to make him even madder.
Tira frowned, but then perked up again, "well, even if you're mean to me, I'm not going to let it get to me! In fact, I'm going to be nice! I could do whatever I want to you right now, but I'm going to let you live. I'm even going to untie you and let you go because even though I can be really mean when I want to be, I can be very nice too."
Then she fetched the dagger lying on the ground by the fire (the one she used to carve up the younger of the bandits earlier which she found in one of their backpacks.) She took the weapon, and gingerly placed it in his grasp. "Don't drop it now. And don't cut yourself cutting through your bonds. Okiedokie? I'm gonna go now. Bubye!"
Taking nothing with her, Tira skipped away humming a happy tune feelings quite good about herself. This world has shown her nothing but meanness and incivility, but she was a good example! She was nice to him even though he wasn't nice to her. And she felt accomplished for it! She felt great! If being good made people feel so warm and fuzzy inside, how come more people weren't nice? They really were missing out.
Not even five minutes passed when she heard first a chirping from above, her loyal friends warning her, then a few seconds later an enraged scream from behind her. "You bloody bitch! I'll kill you!"
Try to do something nice …
A shadow descended upon her. Knife raised. It came slashing down to take her head off, but at the last second, Tira spun to the side and swept her feet low, taking the infuriated father figure off his feet. He fell face first into the dirt, and at the same moment her foot stomped down upon his wrist, pinning his weapon hand to the ground. On a sigh, she raised her other foot and brought the heel smashing down upon his hand, snapping the little bones, and forcing him to release the weapon. Snatching up the dagger, she strolled around him like a vulture, running her fingers along the blade's edge to test its sharpness. Then she shrugged.
"No. Do what you want. I'm still not gonna kill you." She wagged her finger at him like he were a child, "I'm still gonna set an example; I'm still gonna be nice."
And maybe if I confiscate your blade, it won't give you any silly ideas.
But he came at her again. This time with a rock. This time his screams were pure rage, and no sign of comprehensible language resided anywhere in it. Effortlessly and gracefully, she ducked under his overpowered attack. And instead of spinning safely to the side, she actually launched herself straight back into his body, driving her elbow deep into his gut. The screams ceased, replaced by gasps. The rock fell from his grasp. Taking his arm, she flung his heavy body over her shoulder, using more leverage and momentum than strength to execute the throw. Then pinning the offending hand to the ground with her foot, she stabbed the dagger through his extremity and pinned it to the ground. Then she raised her boot over his head, and brought her heel down viciously upon his face, knocking him out cold.
"It's for your own good," Tira said, and for the third time walked away like a good little Tira.
It's like he doesn't want my kindness. Like he's trying to provoke me into killing him.
As she made it to the road, she looked over her shoulder to the unconscious man who seemed hell bent determine to reject her generosity. She had to ruin both of his hands and smash his face in to save his life. Tira shook her head. This world, these people, made absolutely positively no fucking sense.
Writer's Note:
For this story, I imagine Tira looking like my version of her from SCIV's editor. Link to My Tira pictures located in my profile. (I would link here, but won't let me for some reason.)