“Well, well, look at that,” Alexandra says with smooth sarcasm. “Little liar girl has lost her mother. And we have her.”
She smiles blankly at Phoenix, baring her teeth.
Phoenix breathes heavily, overcome with emotion.
“Give her back,” she says, her voice unthreatening, almost like the squeak of a mouse.
Alexandra bursts into laughter and turns away, the pair of bodyguards joining her with a few muffled laughs beneath their masks.
“Oh thank you for this entertainment!” Alexandra beams at Trixie. She turns to Phoenix. “Oh yes mam! Or what? What are you gonna do? Nose bleed on my gloves again?”
“That’s enough!” Trixie says, stepping in between them both. “This girl is under my care and you’re not gonna harm her.”
Alexandra’s face takes a more maniacal look, her eyes wide with crazed determination. Phoenix, who wears an angry frown, is shaking a little with adrenaline.
Seven lifts Falkor from his shoulders.
“Passing you to Henry, little one” he growls, low, and Henry takes the young disfigured elf onto his shoulders. Seven senses the situation escalating and takes a step towards Alexandra, who looks at him and back at Trixie. Thirteen takes two throwing knives from an inner pocket, without anyone seeing.
“You think you can show up in numbers and intimidate us?” Alexandra says to Trixie, circling her. “That girl belongs to us. We own her mother, we own her.”
Alexandra moves her head forward towards Trixie all of a sudden, pretending to attack her, but moves it back again. Trixie flinches.
Django draws his daggers and moves forwards.
Alexandra laughs at him. “Oh, what are you gonna do? Cast some voodoo curse on me?”
“Enough, I said,” Trixie says. “One more threat from you and the deal is off.”
Alexandra backs away from Django, moving towards Phoenix, who shifts but stares straight back at the other elf in anger. She gets up in her personal space and moves her head close to Phoenix’s, the smell of smoke and bloodthistle on her lips.
Phoenix stares dead ahead, not into Alexandra’s eyes, but through her, as if she’s not even there. Her heartbeat is thudding in her chest; the stream, the trees and the night sky starting to blur - but Phoenix doesn’t care anymore. She allows the rage to grow, leaving it ready to burst through the surface.
Alexandra tilts her head and moves her mouth close to Phoenix’s left ear, lingering for a moment.
She whispers: “I hear your mummy is a bad fuck.”
Phoenix turns and instinctively spits in Alexandra’s face, the red mist glazing over her eyes. Alexandra swings her fist towards Phoenix’s nose, but she avoids it at the last moment like a boxer’s dodge.
Seven and Django leap to split the two up but Phoenix has already gone for the jugular - literally. She pounces towards Alexandra and grapples her, sinking her teeth into her collarbone like a feral dog as the pair fall to the floor.
Alexandra’s lower neck is clearly wounded but she makes no noise or scream. She violently pushes Phoenix’s head to one side and headbutts Phoenix, who growls with rage and pushes her head further into Alexandra’s face, clawing at her viciously and attempting to bite her again. Alexandra leans her head back to avoid the attacks, but Phoenix manages to get hold of it between her hands and rams her head into the floor.
Django dives again between the two as Seven uses all his strength to interlock his arms under Phoenix’s armpits, prizing her out and lifting her away from Alexandra as she kicks her legs in the air. The two other Steelfeathers jump in to join the fray but Alexandra knows they’re outnumbered. She mumbles: “Stop, stop.”
Alexandra gets to her feet and snarls at Django as she rises. The tattoo of the feather on her neck is bleeding from where Phoenix has drawn blood.
“You will pay for this, you little shit,” Alexandra says to Trixie, pushing Django and her accomplices away from her. She turns and walks off in a huff, holding her neck, her compatriots following close behind. “That girl belongs to us - we will take what is ours,” she calls back.
Phoenix is still struggling in Seven’s arms, growling and wriggling with such force to break free, like a wild animal caught in a trap. Seven’s muscular arms tighten around Phoenix who continues to struggle.
“Phoenix!” Trixie shouts.
Phoenix, on the brink of losing consciousness, can barely hear her. She is grunting and crying out wildly, raging with wildfire inside her. Phoenix wriggles violently and Seven loses his footing slightly. A glob of stringy saliva falls from Phoenix’s mouth as she continues to struggle and strain. Django and the rest of the group move to support Phoenix, who goes still before suffering a seizure.
.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-.
Phoenix wakes to see a large boar-like tooth inches away from her face. She feels immense tiredness, blinks and realises she’s in Seven’s arms, the rest of the group walking beside them.
The thought of being carried by some kind of savage monster scares Phoenix, but she accepts the moment and quickly finds herself feeling safe and relaxed. She hasn’t been carried since she was a little girl, and even then it wasn’t often her mother would pick her up and hold her close.
Seven takes large strides and his barrel of a stomach breathes deeply, lifting Phoenix’s head up and down, the gentle rocking making her feel further at ease. Phoenix looks at the side of the monster’s face and into his red eye nearest to her, which is looking straight ahead. She sees no savagery in his soul, just determination and slight weariness. She guesses he is probably not much older than her, perhaps late teens or early twenties, but the orc has some weathered lines on his forehead and she wonders if he’s in fact much older.
Seven and the rest of the group haven’t noticed she’s awoken, and she takes the opportunity to close her eyes and pretend she’s still passed out. At this moment, she doesn’t want conversation or explanation, she just wants to feel safe.
Phoenix wonders what happened after she lost control. Alexandra’s twisted face enters her mind. There was blood, that much she knows.
Trixie explains Phoenix’s true situation to the group, her murder of Chrim and the manner of her escape from Silvermoon.
An awkward silence falls across the crew as they walk for a few more minutes, making Phoenix feel awful. ‘They must think I’m a freak, a psychopath,’ Phoenix imagines.
Eventually, Django breaks the silence, addressing Trixie. “I dunno mon,” he says. “Da girl is dangerous, she needs to learn to control her emotions.”
Phoenix keeps her eyes closed, listening in to the group’s conversation about her.
Trixie replies, softly: “Blue, did you not see the way she fought? It was wild, raw. She has ferocity inside her, like him. And her reactions in our slapsies game were some of the fastest I’ve seen. You cannot train that.”
“No, Trix, but we can train her with da blade,” Django says. “What happens if she loses her mind like that again with someone who has a weapon drawn? She be a dead elf.”
“Yes, I will start her training tomorrow,” Trixie states. “But we should not stifle her anger, it’s a strength that should be encouraged.”
Django, looking serious, says: “No. Without self-control she is a liability, to the group, to our mission. Let da captain decide what to do with that side of her once we hear back from him.”
A pause.
“If we hear back,” Django adds.
“Don’t start this again, blue,” Trixie commands. “You know what he’s like, he will contact us when he’s ready. Until then, we sell these crystals and train the girl up - as I see fit - so she’s good enough to impress him when the time comes.”
Phoenix’s mind whirs. What is the captain like? What will he expect of her?
“Well, I be helping,” Django adds. “Teach her about da world, about its mysteries and da little things that sparring won’t.”
“Fine,” Trixie says. “Just don’t make this a competition. And Thirteen, I saw you earlier, try not to be a shit to her.”
Harris sings: “He’s a shit, he’s a shit, he’s a shit and can’t help it!”
Django laughs a deep troll laugh and Falkor lets out an unusual noise. Phoenix can’t help but laugh quietly in her throat, her eyes and mouth still closed, but smiling.
“Fuck you, you fat retard,” Thirteen says aggressively.
“When are you gonna learn some manners, boy?” Henry interjects. “You might be good at what you do but by Ironforge, I swear you are rude and impossible. Trixie, why did you think it was a good idea taking this sod on? These little elves are harder to manage than a tavern full of drunk dwarves, full of problems.”
Henry speaks quietly to Falkor above him: “Except you of course, laddie.”
Falkor hums in response; Thirteen walks in silence, sulking.
“Anyway, I’m starving,” Henry adds. “Let’s get home.”
Trixie says: “We got the fish you boys caught this morning which we can cook tonight, there’s plenty to go around.”
Henry rubs his hands at the thought of a hot meal and some booze.
Phoenix finds herself feeling drowsy again. She drops the facade and lets sleep take her.
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