Divided we Fall

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 7 (v.1) - Chapter Seven

Submitted: September 11, 2019

Reads: 16

Comments: 2

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Submitted: September 11, 2019

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Raquelle whacked the rock again, right where the head would be. “Ahhhhh!” She used her best revenge scream. It’s what she would do if she found Him. If she killed Him.

“You have a lot of passion,” the voice beside her mused.

She spun on him and aimed, her blade inches from his neck. 

Erik held his hands up and stepped back. “Sheesh. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I would never hurt you. Besides, I knew you were there for a while.” 

“Who’s that supposed to be?” He asked, gesturing to the rock. 

“Him. Ani’s killer. I’m practicing.” 

“You have a sword?” 

“Yep.” 

“Well where the hell has it been all this time?” 

Raquelle slipped it through the little opening on the waistline of her skirt. You’d never find it unless you knew what you were looking for. 

“Oh. There,” he said. “May I try?” 

She tossed him the blade. “Careful. She’s my baby.” 

Erik looked at the blade and grinned. “Does it have a name?” He asked, teasingly. 

Raquelle smiled. “Ripper.”

Erik laughed and aimed for the rock. 

He struck at the neck, split the face in half, and cut the legs off.

“Who’s that?” Raquelle asked, though she knew she didn’t really have to ask. 

“Whichever asshole took my sister.” 

She bit back a small smile. “You’re pretty good.” 

“I know. Where’d you get this thing, anyway?” 

She grinned at the memory. “I stole it from a kid after he pushed me into the horse pen.” 

“Mmm. That sounds like you.” 

He handed her back the sword. She fingered the cold metal. “I had to keep it hidden. If Ani knew I had this…” Raquelle shook her head. “She’d’ve made me give it back. Then I would have got grounded for a long time. She didn’t believe in violence.” 

“Sounds like a wise woman.” 

“She was.” Her voice cracked, and she looked down, trying to hide the tears that came. She knew Erik was watching, but, respectively, he looked away. 

If Raquelle was going to hold the tears in, she had to change the subject. “How old are you?” 

“Sixteen. What about you?”

She opened her mouth, then stopped. “Take a guess.” She had to see what he thought. 

“Thirteen.”

She frowned a little. Was she really that immature? She knew she couldn’t look that young. 

“Close. I’m fourteen. How old is Emilia?” 

“She told me she’s fifteen.” 

“Interesting.” 

“Why?” 

Raquelle shrugged. “So you like her.” 

He froze. “She’s nice.” 

“I think she’s a little more than that.” 

He turned to face Raquelle. “I do like her. She is a lovely girl.” His tone was firm, and she knew he wasn’t saying any more. 

That was fine with her. As long as she didn’t see any more kissing, she didn’t care what he thought of Emilia. 

At least she thought she did.

 


© Copyright 2019 Rachel Stone. All rights reserved.

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