by Cypress on May 22nd, 2010, 11:58 pm
"Nustril!!!!" A blood curdling wail exploded from Cy's throat as her mate fell, but it was carried away by the wind as though she'd said nothing. Without hesitation she released her arrow and caught the attacking Yukman in the left shoulder. The arrow did not stick, only grazed his 'flesh', it did not even succeed in tearing his attention from Nustril, and his club took another strike at the already fallen tiger. Her eyes began to sting with tears that turned to ice almost as soon as they seeped free, and she squinted to clear her vision.
When the Yukman finally took note that his prey had fallen he turned and looked toward Cypress. She couldn't swallow past the tight lump in her throat and her hands began to shake as she notched another arrow. He started to lumber toward her and she shot her arrow, backing Dolanne away as he came closer. The arrow found a spot in the man's gut, biting deep into the flesh and sticking. This time he slowed, looking down at the wound. When his eyes were raised there was more determination than before and a visible thirst for blood. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw his face and she hardly thought to reach for another arrow. She reached over her shoulder, fumbling to grasp the fletching between her fingers. She paused briefly, breath caught in her throat and heart racing when she felt only two arrows remaining. She looked over her shoulder to confirm her fears.
"Two." She felt as though she were going to be sick, even tasting the bile that rose in her throat, but she took a deep breath, grabbed one arrow and turned back toward the approaching Yukman. He was fast approaching, luckily the other could still be seen holding onto the same tree for support. She drew the bowstring to her ear, thinking that at this range, if she were to miss, her next action should be to break the bow over her knee and prepare to die.
Calling on every calming memory she possessed, she blew out all her breath and took aim. A glimpse of Nustril's crumpled form on the ground crushed her heart and she let the arrow fly with all her force. It flew true and disappeared into the Yukman's mouth as he let out a screech of attack. The arrow stopped him where he stood and he began to choke. The sounds that emerged from him were the last sounds of life. The combination of wet gurgling and gutteral moaning as he grasped at the arrow's shaft brought the bile that had been in Cy's throat into her mouth. She spit into the snow and grabbed her last arrow, shooting it at the man and sending him staggering back to end in a crumpled pile on the ground. She spit again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Her eyes moved to the last foe, he had begun to make his way toward the body of Nustril, clamping her knees tight she urged Dolanne forward to intercept him. reaching to her side she curled her fingers around her blades, unsheathing both. Because of the remaining stupor, she beat the Yukman to the tiger and stood stood fast. The wound on his side was streaming blood and she hoped he was weak enough for her to defeat. As he got closer he charged and she tightened her knees lifting Dolanne into a rear. Flying hooves knocked him back a few steps but did not put him down and he began to rush again. She took a deep breath, swearing to herself he would not make it to Nustril and swung one leg across Dolanne's back. The horse shifted anxiously and Cy waited for that brief moment until the Yukman was nearly upon them.
In a last act of desperation, she launched from Dolanne's back with her blades raised. The Yukman lifted both arms and swung at her, but with her blades driving down she caught the flesh on either side of his chest and used the weight of her body to drag them down the length of his body. The driving force of his fists connected on both sides of her skull with the force of a blacksmith's sledge and she felt dizzy, but it was too late for the Yukman. His body was splayed open wide by her blades and after another heavy armed swipe he fell forward, pushing Cy to the ground with the momentum of his dying body.
The truth is never pure, and rarely simple