Panther Tales Ch. 04

'Sorry buddy, I'm not that dumb,' she muttered as she reached the stones. She shrugged her pack off her shoulder and dropped her pole, jerking the knot that tied her sling to her right thigh. Bending, she quickly found two suitable rocks. One she loaded into the sling and the other she held as the bird approached again.

It was a long shot, but a huge target. Three times she twirled her sling, then let the rock fly. It didn't connect solidly, but the glancing blow was enough to make the tarn flinch and the lasso miss her. Fast as lightening, she sent another stone into the air. This one hit, smacking the bird in the side, just in front of the wing.

It screamed and turned away and up. It looked like the rider was struggling to control his mount.

Sally wasn't aware that she was grinning widely. 'You thought you were an eagle taking on a mouse, didn't you? But this little mouse has claws!'

She loaded up again as the rider took the tarn up high, than dove towards her. She should have been terrified, but her adrenaline was pumping and she stood her ground.

'It's a bird. It flies. That means hollow bones. No matter how big the fucker is, it can't be that tough.'

Her next rock missed, although it came close enough to the rider that his body jerked. The follow up, though, nailed the tarn on the beak, rocking it's big head violently.

It was hard to tell which was louder--the bird's scream of anger and pain, or Sally's scream of delight.

She waved her arms, beckoning, challenging the rider. "Come on, asshole!" she screamed. "Plenty more where that came from!"

Twice more the tarn dove at her, and twice more she drove it away with solid blows to its feathered chest. The bird's cry after the last stone struck it contained a new note--fear. Its flight path seemed to turn erratic.

She looked back as the tarn circled away. None of the villagers were anywhere to be seen. She assumed they had gone home, confident that the tarn and rider would deal her with.

'Arrogant bastards,' she thought as she watched the bird slowly drop. Was he trying a new tactic? Coming in low and fast?

No! He was landing!

She practically danced with glee as she watched the warrior dismount, a tarn goad clutched in his right hand. She felt like she had won round one.

He stopped maybe fifty feet away.

"Kajira that handle or use weapons are executed!" he shouted.

Sally snorted. "Well, if I see any kajira, I'll be sure to tell them." she answered.

"You are in big trouble, little slave girl. Stealing, attacking a warrior, running away--you will die screaming in agony."

"Eat sleen shit," Sally snarled. "I am NO ONE'S slave!"

He took a few steps towards her, keeping a wary eye on the sling and rock in her hand. "Kneel now, and beg for forgiveness, and maybe I'll spare your life."

She couldn't help it. She laughed out loud.

"Shit. I got a better idea. Why don't YOU kneel and beg for mercy, and maybe I'll spare YOUR worthless life!"

The man's features twisted in anger, and he charged.

Sally's arm spun. She waited...waited...aiming low like her brother had taught her...and finally let the missile fly. It slammed into the warrior's thigh, and he fell to one knee with a grunt of pain. Another stone followed almost instantly, and he instinctively raised his arm to protect his head. The rock smashed into his right elbow, and the goad fell to the grass.

She flung one more stone, but missed. A few quick steps and she had her fighting pole in her hands, and rushed him as he struggled to his feet. The goad shook in his left hand, and he held his injured right arm close to his body.

Sally was done talking. Her blue eyes blazed as she took out half a years frustration and anger on the man. The pole was a blur in her hands as she spun it, raining down blows with both ends. The tarn goad went flying. There were loud cracking sounds as arms and ribs shattered, and she drove him to his knees. Finally, a two-handed blow crashed into the side of his head, and he slumped down, unconscious.

Panting, she looked down at the man's still form. "Yabba dabba doo, motherfucker," she snarled, and the pole hammered down on his head again and again. She didn't stop until her arms were so tired she could barely lift her pole. His skull looked like a melon someone had tossed off a roof.

Sally threw her head back and howled her triumph and fury.

She wiped the sweat off her forehead and looked over at the tarn. It stood placidly in the same spot it had landed.

Slowly, she approached the huge bird, frowning when she saw the harness and straps.

"Poor thing," she said quietly. "You're a slave too."

The huge bird looked down at her calmly. Apparently its tiny tarn brain didn't connect this small human with the enemy that had been flinging stones at it minutes ago.

There was a scabbard hanging from the tarn's left side. She gently drew out the sword.

"I would have brought this. Not that it would have mattered."

The tarn watched her with mild interest as she used the sword to cut away the harness, saddle and packs. She removed everything that had been strapped to it.

"We are not enemies," she told the bird, and laid a hand on its neck. "And now you're free."

She gave it a soft smack on the back with the flat part of the sword. "Go," she called, and the tarn took a few quick steps and launched itself into the sky. It seemed to Sally that its caws sounded joyful.

She dug through the riders packs, finding some rations and a few more gold coins. Then she trudged back to get her own pack and her trusty sling.

'Well hell,' she thought. 'Guess I may as well stay up and keep moving.'

It was nearly dark when she crested a hill and stopped dead in her tracks. Before her, stretching in both directions as far as she could see, was a vast expanse of trees.

She had reached the Northern Forests.