Bandits!

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 2nd March 2014

Characters: Vell
Description: Vell runs into a pair of bandits on the road
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 5, day 9 of Turn 7

Vell was finding it harder and harder to get going in the mornings. Even though she fell asleep as soon as the sun set, it was a struggle to open her eyes when sunlight touched her face. Her body ached and she was exhausted, and poor Itch wasn't doing much better. The runner spent most of the day tripping over his own hooves, and she only rode him for a candlemark or two a day now.

She sighed and rubbed her hands against her face, trying to rub away some of the exhaustion. The scrape of grit against her skin made her grimace-- a good night's sleep and a bath had suddenly become the second and third most desirable thing on Pern. Yarron was, of course, the first.

But there was no Yarron unless she got moving. "Get up," she told herself. Instead she sat on the stone she'd sat on to pull on her boots. The glen she'd camped in was just off the road, although the road could barely be called that. It was more of a cart track, two dirt lines in amongst the wild green. Not far away was a sandy creek bed with trickle of water running down the middle, just enough to ease the parched throats of a girl and a runner.

Vell sighed. "Get up, you lazy thing," she said again. Still, she sat. The sound of the wind in the trees was so peaceful, and Itch wouldn't mind if she sat a few more moments. The runner was all tacked up and ready to go. She'd even strapped her backpack to the saddle, since she intended to walk for most of the morning. Instead she tipped her face toward the sun and closed her eyes.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

A rough male voice cut through the quiet of the morning. Vell jumped. Her heart pounded as she spun to her feet to face whoeveer had spoken.

Two men stood at the bend of the road. Their clothing was ragged and in various shades of brown, their beards unkept and their grins matching-- and malicious. "Pretty woman like you, all alone? What are you doing here?"

Gooseflesh raced down her spine and Vell backed toward where Itch was tied. The men-- they looked Holdless at best, or bandits at worst.

"Hey. I'm talking to you." The older of the two men stepped into the clearning after her. He was taller, too, with tangled black hair and a pinched look around his eyes. "It's polite to answer when people talk to you."

"I-- I'm just travelling," Vell said. The words rasped in a throat dry with fear. "And I'm a boy. I'll be on my way."

The two men exchanged glances, and the older one didn't stop coming toward her. "Naw. Not with hair like that you're not. Stay a while and chat. I haven't talked to a woman in a long time." The other man chuckled low in his throat, a baritone rumble that buzzed ominously through the little clearing.

Her heart was racing, and her hair, bound in a long braid down her back, felt like an anchor. A trap. Itch was behind her, and Vell turned with a little gasp and raced toward him. One of the men swore and she heard boots thudding on the grassy lawn behind her. She vaulted to the saddle but hands caught her around her middle and threw her to the ground.? Itch shied and raced to the other end of the clearing. The older man stood over her grinning wildly, his teeth obscenely white in the tangle of his beard.

Vell lashed out with her feet and the man swore as she kicked his shin. Vell scrambled to her feet after her runner. The other man cut her off, his arms spread wide as he lunged at her. Vell dodged-- barely-- but the man caught her skirt in his fists and yanked, pulling her off balance. She fell to her knees and his arm snaked around her neck. Vell reached over her head and scratched at her attacker's face with her fingernails. He yelled and let go and she bolted to Itch, vaulting into the saddle with unnatural speed. Her backpack was in the way but she managed to keep her seat as the runner turned in a tight circle as the two men came at him.

Her bow. Vell grabbed it, swearing at her clumsy fingers that couldn't undo the knots that held it to her pack. One of the bandits grabbed Itch's mane, his other hand reaching for her. She abandoned the bow, pulled an arrow from her quiver, and slashed at his eyes. He stumbled back as she kicked her runner's sides viciously, then nearly lost her seat as Itch leapt into a gallop.

Branches whipped at her face and tore at her clothing as the runner ran. Vell dropped the arrow and did her best to hang on, her balance thrown off by the backpack strapped to the saddle, her bow and quiver, and Itch's irregular gait. The runner had bolted up the stream bed rather than down the road, and was leaping over rocks and stumbling in the gravel.

The reins. Vell found her balance and leaned forward to grap the dangling leather. The bandits were still behind her so she let Itch have his head, her own heart pounding as she twisted in the saddle to look behind them.

They weren't being followed.

Itch tripped, then trippd again. Vell was nearly thrown from the saddle. She started to rein her bolting runner in, but Itch fought the bit and tossed his head. They went around another bend and she was able to bring him to a rough trot, then a fast walk, then to a stop. Itch's sides were heaving and his muscles twitched between her legs. Vell found that she was gasping for breath too, her hands shaking on the reins. Slowly she dismounted, her legs barely holding her upright as she hit the ground. Resting her head against Itch's neck, she breathed in the scent of runner and just listened to the terrified flutter of her heart.

The sun was warm against her bare head. She'd left her leather hat behind. The air was crisp still, but warmer than the wintery winds back at Stony Field. And the woods around her were silent, thick and still. The quiet finally lulled her into something like calm. Itch began to move, heading toward the water. Vell sighed, then tugged at the reins to get him to stop. "We need to walk for a bit first," she told the runner. "And I have no idea where we are."

Itch stared at her, his brown ears twitching. Vell felt her chin wobble. Tears began to leak from her eyes. "Oh, Itch." She reached out to scratch beneath the runner's cheek strap. "If you hadn't been there, they-- they would have--"

She sniffled, scrubbed at her eyes. The tears began to flow anyway, and Vell let herself shake and cry as the terror she'd held back while escaping suddenly caught up with her. Itch followed her closely, nudging her every so often in concern as she walked them both cool.

They'd been attacked by bandits, and couldn't go back-- those men would be waiting. Only now they weren't anywhere by the road anymore. Jungle pressed in on both sides. And Vell was lost.

Last updated on the March 15th 2014

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Bandits!