[Beruthiel]

Santiara's heart was beating faster and faster as the sound of the hunters approached. She was watching Fionel carefully, waiting for any signal to attack. The hunters entered the clearing, their horses stamping on the ground. Every move they seemed to make echoed in her ears. She was so scared that they would hear her breathing. Santiara didn’t dare look at the clearing, she didn’t want to know what they might be doing to Turos. Finally Fionel looked at Santiara, their eyes connected and Santiara knew.
It was time. There was no turning back.

A great surge of fear and adrenaline rushed through her body at the same time she knew what she had to do. She stood up and ran down the hill as fast as she could with her spear held high. The other slaves had also jumped up to attack, Fionel with her sword in hand. Turos stabbed the hunter nearest to him and Santiara suddenly froze as she saw the pool of blood collecting on the ground. She looked up into Turos’ eyes quickly before turning back to the hunters.

Another Easterling had rushed over to where the dead one lay trying to pick him up off the ground. Santiara tightened her grip on her spear and rushed over to him. As she drew closer she threw the spear as hard as she could at him. She watched as the spear flew threw the air and to her dismay it missed. The Easterling turned to her with rage and grabbed his sword off the ground and began to come towards her. Santiara was unarmed and filled with fear, ‘What am I going to do! Is this the end? Oh please someone help!’ She was only able to whisper these things and none of the other slaves could hear her.

She stumbled back to edge of the clearing when she suddenly realized, she was armed, her knife. She drew it out and watched the light reflect off it. Before the hunter knew what was happening, Santiara ran as fast as she could towards him the long knife in front of her and she charged straight into him. The knife penetrated his left arm and he screamed with pain. Santiara tried to move out of the way but his sword was in his right arm and he swung it round, cutting her across the stomach. The wound seemed to burn and Santiara could see a line of blood soaking into her clothes. She cried in pain and walked backwards, away from him.

The hunter staggered back wards, grasping his arm while the blood spilled from it. He looked up in amazement at the slave girl who had done this to him. In all his life, he had never thought it possible that a simple slave could actually hurt him.

Santiara had dropped to the floor, the pain searing through her. She watched as the blood spread through the cloth slowly. She lifted up her shirt to see the wound clearly, it wasn’t too deep but the pain was incredible. She leaned back against a log when she saw all the others fighting the hunters. She couldn’t just stay here and wait to die, if she was going to she’d rather die fighting. “Get up, just get up!” She whispered to herself and with a huge effort she picked herself off the ground, her knife still in hand.