Chapter 2

Nervous, little one? You should be. You see, I haven't quite decided yet if I should let you live or die. Your death would sever the prophecy right there and then. But, there is some sort of sweet justice to letting you live. After all, how long have I had to endure the threat of this prophecy? How many times have I woken up with a silent scream in my throat because I had no idea when or how you would arrive? This torturous, dawdling imminence will be eviscerated, but by my terms, my conditions and my hand. I think I will enjoy prolonging my decision.

* * * * * * *
"I can't believe we agreed to this," muttered Agatha almost to herself. She clucked disapprovingly as the parade of slaves started. "Look, Cece, those poor things are half-starved. No, make that mostly starved." She clucked again while nudging the tallest woman among the three.

"It makes sense economically for the slavers to do that." Cece held up a hand as Agatha emitted a louder cluck. "But! I will say that it is only short term thinking." She threw a look that tried to silence Remy.

Remy swallowed the chortle and pointed at a few very fit looking toughs on the field. "Those look strong. Wonder why?"

"Gods, if you two would stop to think before letting words forth, you might fathom more things. This event is a survival event plus the survivals get shipped elsewhere. If you were slavers, who would you choose as the participants?" Cece harumphed.

"Oh!" the other two exclaimed in unison. Then with a nudge towards Agatha, Remy grinned at Cece, "Y'know, we're so used to having you explain stuff to us we figure, why bother using brains." Both rocked with laughter at the obvious disgust on Cece's face.

"And remember Agatha, we agreed to this because we figured if we could save even one of these poor children, it's worth the trip," said Cece. Her eyes sought the field for possible candidates. Most of the children she saw could barely stand up, they were so frightened. She scanned the field before resting her sight on a pair that was jostling for position. "Look at those two. They seem determined... no, make that the bigger one seems determined. Look at how she's pulling the smaller child with her"

"She looks strong," approved Remy.

"You're right about her determination, Cece." nodded Agatha.

"Smart too. She's switching hands to use her friend like a whiplash in her wake. From here, it almost looks as if she's swimming through the crowds." A small smile lit up Cece's face.

"The race should be starting." As if Remy had decreed it, a signal came from the southwest corner of the field and an arrow shot from a crossbow sounded a large gong. "Damn! Those two didn't get to the front!"

"Hmm." Cece's eyesbrows came together into a straight line. "I don't think she wanted to be -"

"What's she doing?" Agatha craned to get a better look, almost falling out of the dais. "She's shoving her friend in front of her? Why?"

"He's slower! Oh! Watch out!" Remy winced as a blow struck the girl from behind staggering her. "She's quick, she dodged the second one."

Cece played with her braid before asking, "Perhaps we should pay attention to others as well?"

Two simultaneous shrugs greeted her followed by a loud sigh from Agatha. "I really do wish we could save more than just one. I wish we could save them all!" Her arms flapped to make the emphasis and both Cece and Remy automatically dodged.

"Look, she's actually tugging her friend to make them slow down. I get it! She's making sure they're where the fighting is least fierce. Good strategy, I'm curious to see what she'll do in the fight." Remy's curt nod was followed by a grin.

* * * * * * *

She didn't know what was the worst: the dust choking and blinding her; the tears from the dust blinding her further; the fear that she'd lose her footing; the coughing that threatened to slow their momentum; or the fear that one of these blows would break her grasp on Tiny's shirt. There! She could feel the blow coming from her right and she easily side-stepped it. Realizing she stopped paying attention, she returned her focus on her skin. Don't think about anything else. Just concentrate on where the air feels different.

Some time ago, a fistfight with Arite taught her that she could feel the air whooshing at her right before a fist hits. It wasn't helpful most of the time since she had to focus hard to feel the movement of the air. However, she was finding out that focus sharpens when the stakes were high enough..

"Trist.. an! I... can't... run... " Tiny tried to crane his head back to tell her this but received a sharp jab in the back for his efforts. "OW!"

She didn't bother to answer. If Tiny tried it again, another jab would suffice. The slaver had said the first half who crossed the finish line would get to the second half of the competition. All she had to do was keep Tiny and herself between the middle and the top finishers. Less fists to dodge.

She spotted Arite near the front loping at a leisurely pace. Is the end close? She was regretting giving Tiny the larger portion of the gruel they received. She felt Tiny drop to his knees and she tugged at him impatiently, not comprehending what he was yelling. The words finally broke through the pounding through her veins.

"...op! Done! End!" He gasped each word out as he struggled to get his breath back.

Joy surged through her as she surveyed the field but then she spotted slavers herding the losers away. "Noooo!" The word burst out of her before she realized she was charging at the slavers. She felt a pressure at her ankle, then a tug, and she went sprawling into the dirt. As she struggled to get up, someone thudded on top of her. "Tristan! Stop! You can't help them. You..."

Words tumbled out in between the sobs. "I didn't realize... I mean... I did, but... I ..." Arms reached around her, helping her limp body into a semi-sitting position, then Tiny pulled her arms around him.

"Shhh, Tristan. You helped me. You helped one of us, okay? Shhhh." She let Tiny help her to her feet and drag her to where the other survivors were.