Snow Rising - Scene 2

“Stand clear of the Shifter”! Maintaining her grip on the creature’s throat Snow looked back along the bridge in the direction of the voice, groaning inwardly as she saw the black and silver uniforms of the Tower Watch. Typical. Three weeks spent tracking the shape-shifting bitch and now the locals wanted the glory, not to mention the bounty. Well it wasn’t happening, not this time. Grunting with effort she wrestled the shape-shifter between her and the raised crossbows of the watch, buying time while searching for a way out; a way out that wouldn’t involve losing her prey or ending up as a bloody pincushion. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough, she watched over the creatures shoulder as a familiar figure pushed his way to the front of the Watch, lurching into view, standing hands on hips at the head of his men, “Move aside Snow, the Shifter’s ours”. “Captain Roga, how nice to see you” she managed a smile despite the ripple of revulsion in her stomach. From the top of his overly large head, to the tips of his blood red boots, Roga was an ugly sight in any light. Now, dimly lit by the cloud shaded moon, his twisted features were a grey canvas for the web of livid purple scars that criss-crossed them. Rumour had it that the scars had been a gift from a working girl he’d refused to pay. Snow found the rumours easy to believe and admired the girl’s devotion to her work. All the coin in the West couldn’t compensate having to look up at that face. “I’d like to oblige you Captain but the contract’s mine”. She pulled the Shifter closer still, “Khaleed’s offered twenty gold for her”. Roga’s face writhed, scar tissue pulsing as he lifted two fingers to pat at the emblem on his shoulder, “Merchant’s buy goods. We’re Black Tower. The Lady Celestine demands the creature’s head”. He turned to signal his men forward, “You’ll hand her over. Now. She’s a wanted killer”. Snow felt the creature stiffen as it heard the words, its low growl vibrating through her hands and arms. “It’s a lie”, the rumbling denial barely above a whisper only Snow could hear, followed by a snarl, “Let me loose you white haired bitch”. The Wolfun tried desperately to snap the silver manacles which bound her, slavering jaws snapping inches from Snow’s face as she turned her head, “They’ll kill us b…”. The sentence ended with a yelp as Snow head butted her on the snout.“Shut up fleabag I’m trying to think”, she dug her silvered fingertips deeper into the lank fur below the creatures bottom jaw and leaned in to whisper, “Work with me here”. She pushed the growling creature closer to the side of the bridge as if struggling to hold her, “The bounty’s twenty gold Roga, surely the Lady Celestine can afford that”? She was playing for time, moving round to get a better look at Roga’s men, seeing the silver tipped arrows and weapons. They’d come prepared, but how the hell had they known where to find her? “You know how this works Snow”, Roga shouted as he waved his men onto the bridge in front of him, “My orders are clear. The Wolfun’s life is forfeit. Be grateful you’re not on my list. Take careful aim men, we don’t want the girly to suffer”. “Come on Roga, I have to make a living. What about a reward”? Snow glanced up at the sky. The drugged darts that had allowed her to shackle the Wolfun were wearing off and the clouds above now pulling thin, blown steadily apart by an icy wind. Within moments the moon would be fully revealed boosting the creatures strength, while the tendrils of mist curling sinuously around her feet would offer no obstruction to the city’s marksmen. Why could nothing ever go to plan. She checked the crossbowmen, they were indeed taking very careful aim. She whispered again to her captive, “You’d better not be a killer”. Again she made it look as though she was struggling to hold the Wolfun, “She’s a tough bitch Roga. Got to be worth my bounty eh”? She felt the small key turn in the manacle lock, heard the faint clink as they opened. Roga’s answering chuckle slithered through the gathering mist, “Ever the jester Snow. Tell you what, you leave her manacled and I’ll stand you an ale next we meet”. “You’re all heart Roga..”. Galvanised she spun the Wolfun round and sideways, yelling, “Jump!” and pushing off with all her strength to add impetus as the crack of crossbow fire split the air. Falling now, perched atop the creature she felt the sudden infusion of strength within the muscular frame as the world began to spin. Even as they fell the creature snapped the manacles and wrenched free of her grip, its claws raking the tough leather of her doublet. Whether accidental or not she felt the power behind the strike. Again, no time. The impact on water was a black on black rockgiant slap that robbed her of the ability to think. Kicking instinctively she forced cold shocked arms and legs towards what she prayed would be the surface, fearfully aware that there wasn’t enough air in her lungs to make it. Was she climbing or diving, living or dying, no way to tell, no time. Fear drove her, that and the point blank refusal to die in this shit filled river, in this goddess forsaken town. Denied air, her body shook as she fought to stop her mouth from opening. Defeated she exhaled, knowing that the next breath she took would be her last. No time. She surfaced, coughing out liquid sludge before gulping at precious air, sinking under again without the strength to stay afloat at the first attempt. Turning onto her back she allowed herself to float, feeling the tug of the current beneath her despite the bone chilling cold. Drained of energy she focused on staying afloat, willing numb fingers to obey her thoughts as she struggled to unbuckle her sword belt, realising the silver spikes would cut the leather. There, the heavy belt, sword and dagger dropping away, left behind as the current carried her downstream. She might live through this night yet. Above the sound of the water around her she heard distant shouts and managed to lift her head to look back. What had seemed an eternity to her had obviously been but a moment to Roga and the Watch. A hundred feet above the river the light of distant torches showed like fireflies and the Captain’s angry shouts were no more than echoes dampened by the gathering mist. Despite the pain she smiled. If nothing else, she’d ruined his evening. She’d trailed the Wolfun closely, knew it couldn’t have killed anything but cattle or sheep since the moon had been full. If there’d been killings the militia would’ve been out searching. No. Roga and his crew had been paid to to kill the Wolfun for a reason. Why would the Hex Queen Celestine want it dead? The questions flowed through her mind as quickly as the current flowed beneath her. Better lose the bounty than give that thief an easy kill. Mist or no mist, she’d freeze to death if she stayed still much longer. Another cry rolled across the freezing water, a wavering howl that promised another meeting, another battle and one where no clouds obscured the shining face of the moon now filling the night sky. The howl had all but died when answering howls began to lift from both sides of the river. It didn’t sound like gratitude. Cursing her luck Snow found the strength to turn and strike out downstream for the anonymous safety of dry land. Trust her to save an ungrateful werewolf with friends.