A Warrior's Redemption (The Warrior Kind)

The fresh air felt like a revitalizing cool bath after a day of working in the mud as she stepped outside. She swiftly made for the side alley. After she was in the alley she stopped and quickly stuffed the biggest bottles of the tincture fluid down her shirt where the bulk of the bottles were hidden by the woolen coat she wore and the curves of her emerging figure. Making her way to the back alley she hurried down it. She heard a snap behind her and swung to face the sound of the noise. Too late! What she had been hoping to avoid had happened yet again. A group of neighborhood kids had formed. Although they came from poor families they were not of slave lineage. People raised near the bottom of society often take pleasure in lording over someone of lesser importance than even they are such as a slave. They closed in around her. There were five of them, all boys.

"Give us the box slave and we won't make it too hard on you." One said self-confidently.

Krista shook her head no in defiance and waited for the inevitable. The boys came at her from all sides. She took the brunt of the hits even though she was older and bigger than the boys, but she was dealing out some damage too. One of the boys picked up a piece of wood and wacked her across the back of the head hard making her see stars briefly. She fell to her knees half screaming from the pain of her throbbing head. The boys quickly closed in and started to kick at her.

Krista's hand found the knife tucked in her dress and without remorse she drove it through the calf of a leg extended out in the process of hitting her. The boy screamed like a stuck pig and hobbled down the alley screaming for help. Krista got back up to her feet holding the knife out waiting for the next challenger, but the boys had enough.

"Quick grab her stuff and let's get out of here before she sticks another one of us! You're going to pay for that slave!" Yelled one boy.

She took a menacing step in his direction and he and his buddies took off down the street with her stuff at a run. After they were out of sight she reached to feel her shirt and see if the glass bottles were still intact. They were. She breathed a sigh of relief. She always bought extra stuff that they didn't need so that the street boys would think that they had gotten the best of her, when they stole or destroyed her boxed goods.