Think about it

“Think about what you are doing,” Moonhawk said calmly.

“I’m thinking you throw that sword over here, or I’ll slit the boy’s throat.”

“You will not sir,” Astme said with such indignation, that the man momentarily moved the blade aside.

Moonhawk unbuckled her sword belt. “Let him go, he is more trouble than you can handle.”

“Sword first,” the man said. He looked to his men, who returned his look with blank stares…if the elf was too stupid to be afraid, what did they care? She would still fetch a good price in the slave markets.

Moonhawk tossed Hawkblade, scabbard and all, at the man’s feet. “The boy.”

The man hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating keeping both. The boy, seeing the knife move and a soft wrist at his mouth, decided matters by clamping down strong teeth on the exposed flesh and running.

Moonhawk moved forward, placing herself between the men and Astme, then with complete disregard for him and his men, turned her back on them to address the lad. “Back to camp, Astme, we’ll discuss your role in this later.”

“I’m thinking not,” the man said.

“I’m not as surprised by that admission as you might think,” Moonhawk said, turning to face the group, “a slaver with the capacity for thought being a rarity.”

“You know what we are?”

“Yes, and more importantly where your cargo is, or should that be was? I believe sufficient time has passed for my friends to have released them,” Moonhawk said.

“You lie.”

“Often, but not today. This time is a warning, next time you’ll die,” Moonhawk said, turning to leave, she held out a hand toward him and muttered a word. Hawkblade and scabbard returned to her hand as a wall of flame surrounded the slavers.

(word count 300)