Ralph and the Pixie

As soon as their prey stopped, the Goblins fanned out to prevent any from escaping. The largest Goblin brandished his black, serrated iron scimitar angrily. ‘What? No warriors? Only a few women?’ he laughed, brandishing his weapon at Malina who cowered, trying to cover Theuli with her body.

‘Ah-h, they are young!’ he hissed. ‘Tonight, we eat lads.’

Theuli tried to say something, a stream of blood coming from her mouth, her breathing a horrible, bloody, gurgling sound. The large Goblin caught her by the hair, baring her throat. As he raised his sword, Malina screamed. The Goblin kicked Malina in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Raising his sword over Theuli again, he yanked her head back viciously.

Ralph had decided to follow Pran’s advice, and stay out of the fighting this time. The Elf had been right; Ralph had been lucky that he’d not actually been involved in any sword-play. He tried not to think of the consequences . . . saw himself, in his own imagination, being cut down . . .

But these images seemed to mean little to him. Thinking of what he’d seen, of Nevana with a knife held to her throat, touched deep feelings within him; feelings that went deeper than self-preservation.

The sight of her, the feel of her, what had been done to her . . . the way she had come running to him . . .