The Hand that Spills

The sunlight hits me in the face harshly. It had been a while since I had seen any, skipping towns by night had become my thing lately.  People can't see as well at night, or maybe that's just what I've convinced myself. Sweat is beading on my forehead and I wipe it on my sleeve.

I can hear her call my name, languidly and with a hint of sarcasm. Like she doesn't want me to respond, like she wants me to fuck off. I've come too far to leave her be now, she should know this.  I grunt and walk over to her, her eyes unaffected by my sudden presence.

"The sun is hot today," My voice is rough over her ears and she blinks at me.

"Mm," She says, so nonchalant. The trip had been long this time and had done more harm than good to our already strained friendship. She was a beautiful girl, not the typical kind of woman you'd meet around these parts. She knew how to defend herself and was well educated. Knew too much for her own good.

She had warm green eyes that flickered when she was interested and grew cold when she was scared. You could tell those eyes had seen more than their fair share of blood and war – same as me. Still, I had been and always was intrigued and even more now by her silence.

When I met her as a young man in our village she had been a beautiful blossoming young lady. I'd fancied her then and she knew it. One night I kissed her by the river after our town's victory over Torlios, a glorious gesture from a first love. She had kissed me back, and we laid together in the grass listening to the crickets buzz and chirp the music of the evening. But that very night our town was invaded by Torlios's followers.

They burned our village to the ground, brutally cutting limbs off of anyone in their path - man, woman or child. Few lived; the ones who did were on the run for being traitors to the new king. That brings us back to where we are now. Two years later and we are still on the run. We eat when we can, we drink when we can, we sleep when we can, we fight when we have to.

"It's been almost four months since we've had a resting spot for more than two days at most," She sounded frustrated and tired. She began to stretch out her limbs as she leaned against the tall trunk of an evergreen. My eyes took in her body as they always did. Soft rosy skin over muscular arms, calves and thighs,  a strong woman with the curves of a goddess. If she ever noticed my constant stares she never said a thing.

"I'm sorry, we can rest here for a bit before we go." I tried to sound reassuring. "With every passing day we get closer to our destination."

Her head turned, a soft smile on her lips. "Yes, our destination." She repeated and in her voice was a mixture of arousal and anger. I could feel heat tingling in my stomach. I move my body so I am behind her, my lips and hot breath so close to her ear and my hips touching her backside.

"When we arrive they will feel how we felt that night. Is that what you wish?" Her body melts into my words, and I can feel her shudder. "Ah, yes, that is what you want. To personally be the hand that murders the so-called-king." She turns quickly in my arms, her eyes looking up at me with such want that it is hard to look into them. "To be the hand that spills his royal blood, to be the hand that avenges our village," She presses herself closer to me, and bites her lower lip.

"I want it all – and I shall have it!" Her words crush against my mouth as she kisses me with passion – so far from the emotions that we shared the first night we had been this close.