When the fox hears the rabbit scream, he comes a running but not to help

-The Silence of the Lambs

~O~

Chasing Deaths

~O~

The moon soared among sallow clouds, its bright rays painting patches of silver in the dewed grass. Calla held the sword up high, blood still tarnishing the edge from its previous kill. It was ready for its next one.

"I won't let you kill my father."

She raised the blade, gathering her resolve to finish him off in a clean kill. "I-I won't let you kill my father." She tried to say it one more time with conviction, but the quivering sword frankly implied that she couldn't. It had been easier to kill him earlier when he was armed at the marketplace. It was always easier to kill when they fought back. But when they lie helpless, she almost felt the rush of sympathy.

Calla closed her eyes and drew a sharp breath to ease her doubts.

Don't.

She jumped at the response she had gotten from the dying boy. She peered at his face and noticed his eyes were shut and he still remained unconscious. But she could still hear his low breathing. It couldn't have been him.

This is not right.

There it was again. She didn't know where it was coming from. The voice was ringing loud in her ear, coercing her hands to release the blade. Calla's knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip around the hilt.

"Shut up!" She yelled. There's no turning back.

She realized she had to do the act, and do it quickly before something could change her mind. Waiting not a moment longer, she lifted the sword and plunged it to his chest.

The blade sunk unto his flesh and hissed when she drew it out. Blood oozed from his torso and pooled on his tunic. When the boy choked blood and his hitched breathing suddenly dropped, Calla refused to look at him. As if she was almost afraid to feel any trace of remorse.

At least it had been quick.

Calla exhaled in satisfaction. It was done. The Just King was dead.

"Calla!"

At the sound of her name, Calla's head turned to her left to see Bane half limping half sprinting along the ground. His front paw was smeared in blood, and his fur was tainted from grisly frays. "We have to leave! There's more of them coming!" He panted, before plummeting to the ground, knees giving in to fatigue.

Calla left the young man and knelt down beside Bane. "You're losing too much blood."

Bane slunk his head, unable to stop his eyes from closing. "Well then, you better leave. I don't want to lose anything else."

The cry of wolves was fast approaching. The ground shook at their arrival. Calla looked around, realizing she was left alone to survive.

She turned her head. The wolves already surrounded them in formation. One of them crouched in front of her, baring its teeth and snarling. It seemed they wanted to finish off the live one first instead of indulging in a meal that fights back.

Another wolf tried to nip at the Bane's leg to haul him away. Calla grabbed her sword and swung at its flank. It released its hold but instead it leapt at her feet. Calla dropped her sword in the process and shrieked, as it was her turn to be dragged.

"Argh!" Its fangs dug onto her heel while another one joined in to maul on her shoulder. Calla screamed in pain, her hands desperately lashed out until she felt the hilt of the sword on her palms. She yanked it towards her and swung in a broad arc over her head, neatly slicing wolf's skull.

Sitting up, she faced the on her heel and drove the sword to its head. It yelped before dropping to the ground, motionless. The sound of steel cracking on bone made the others pull back in caution. They backed away, keeping a safe distance from her, until they finally decided she was too weak to fight back.

Calla's vision blurred. She was sure they were coming in again for another round. She was too tired to even check.

Her eyes flicked over to where Bane was. His breathing was barely audible. She could hardly see the rise and fall of his chest. He must be dead too.

Her grip on the sword slackened as she laid her head back in surrender. She didn't care anymore. She had done what she had to do tonight. The king was dead. And soon, she will be too. The wolves howled in triumph, before flashing their fangs to sink them in their prey.

Suddenly, a cry of soldiers reverberated the entire forest. Shrieks of animals, neighs of horses and calls of men altogether made the wolves angrily driven away in a startled cluster.

She saw the bright light of torches, before her vision faded to darkness.

She woke to the sun streaming in her face through tall windows.

Squinting against the sunlight, Calla stirred her body, hoping to feel that her limbs were somehow still attached.

"Oh, you're finally awake." A young woman in scarlet clothing stood up from the chair across her bed. She looked to be about sixteen, probably from a regal family.

I made it out alive, she thought. The last thing she remembered was being cornered. Dying.

But there was one scenario she couldn't shake out of her head. She remembered killing him. She remembered wielding his weapon stained by his own blood. Finally, after how many years spent waiting for that moment, she had been successful. At turned out, even prophecies can be stopped with human will.

She rested back on her pillow, her worries slightly allayed. Calla reached for the bandages donned to her shoulder. Crimson was surfacing up the cloth and she could feel the itch of the dried blood. But when she lifted the bandages, the wound was barely visible. There was not even a scar.

"I had to use my cordial to heal you," the girl explained upon seeing her confusion. "Had I not, I do not think you would have pulled through."

"Where am I?" Calla asked, gazing the room to inspect her surroundings. She caught sight of a flag attached to the dreary stonewall. It depicted a golden lion on a red field.

"The Narnian infirmary," she replied. "You've been asleep for a couple of days."

Calla was surprised they decided to keep her in the infirmary after pulling a getaway stunt from the prisons. Although she couldn't receive all the credit, she merely escaped with the help of-

"Bane!" Panic seized her when she remembered the horror that happened to them that night. She propped herself up on her elbows and proceeded to sit up.

The girl rushed to her side, prompting her to sit down. "If you mean your fox, then he's resting in his room across yours."

"How is he? Is he alright?" Calla asked her desperately as she sat down.

"He's fine. My cordial works miracles," she assured. "In fact, all three of you survived because of it."

Calla paused. Her voice suddenly dropped a hoarse whisper.

"Three?"

A/N:

My OC scares me tbh

-DawnD