Hunted

Elora raised her sword tip to Shadowfox’s throat, as a gentle groan escaped his lips. Shadow’s eyes fluttered open, closed briefly as if not certain as to what they saw, then opened again.

“El, you’re bleeding,” he said, seeing the, now darkened, stain in the tunic. He noticed other things too, “why do you have your sword pointed at my throat? Why am I bound?”

“In answer to your first, knives in the chest tend to bleed, you put said knife in my chest…that should cover the other questions you had.”

“I don’t remember anything.” The half elf said, his face turning ashen, “Sicbur?”

“Fine, apparently you only wanted to kill me,” Elora said, her delicate elven features pinching together in concentration.

“You’re immortal? Why would I even try?”

“Good question, either you had some control and knew or the one that sent you didn’t. What is the last thing you recall?”

“Saying goodnight to you at the inn.”

“Last night,” Elora confirmed, “you waited down longer than us, what happened?”

“A man, he was interested in you, I thought nothing of it, so many ask…I’m sorry.”

“Sicbur said you were back within ten minutes, so my guess is a spell. If you were already under its influence then it’s likely I was the target.” Elora said, sounding a little piqued.

“Lost the bet with Sicbur did you?” Shadow asked.

“Drew. He bet I wouldn’t get vengeance.” El said slashing through the bonds on Shadow’s wrists.

Shadow’s eyebrows reached for his hairline. He massaged his stiff limbs, looking round for a weapon.

“Relax old friend, you were just the weapon, I want the wielder. We move out in half an hour, be ready.” Elora said, tossing Shadow his weapons. It was more an affirmation of her trust than any words.