Unforgivable love

Forest fighters

Abruptly stopping Violet whipped her head to the sound of a twig being snapped, her fight response kicking in instantly. Her body covered in goosebumps as the familiar feeling of being watched washed over her. “Show yourself.” She demanded facing the direction the sound came from. She positioned herself into a low squat, spreading her legs and raising her fists. Her body forming into a fighting stance naturally.

“Don’t fret little one.” A man chuckled, stepping out from behind a tree. He’d been hiding in the shadows and for god knows how long. That alone was a threat. Had he seen her kill and make a scene to look innocent? was it a coincidence that he’d been in the same woods as her? She didn’t know, she didn’t want to find out either.

Skilfully running towards the man, she pulled out her blades hidden under her cloak, tucked out of sight from on lookers but not out of reach from her. She grasped a blade in both hands, ready to strike. Violet had always been an attacker really, she was never known to sit back and stay on defence, her patience couldn’t allow such things but she’d always plan her attacks first but her desperation to make it home controlled her movements. Once she got close enough to strike, the man crouched into a defensive stance, preparing for her attack. It was a shock to violets system when she was effortlessly thrown over the man’s shoulder. He had used her momentum against her, tucking himself into her waist and nudging her body straight over his. Time seamed to pause for a second as she glided through the air, her hair whipping her countless times. She hit the ground and rolled, something she had done a silly amount of times in one day. Her knives no longer in her hands, she’d obviously let them go in the air. So she did the next best thing.

Stuffing her hands into the earth and grabbing a fist full of dirt she threw it at the man, successfully coating his face with a layer of dusty dirt. He’d swiped at his face in an attempt to brush the particles away, but Violet knows how painful those tiny specs could be she’d learned that from training.

When she was young, maybe fourteen, her father had thrown sand at her face to show what her opponents could possibly do to her. She’d winced and rubbed her eyes, making the tiny specs scratch her eyes. He yelled at her, called her incompetent and whatever insult he could think of at the time. She’d learnt quickly to never touch her face in a fight, it’s a weakness, your hands aren’t protecting your body anymore, they’re focused on getting something tiny out your eyes. In a way it made sense, but that was years ago. No need to think about past incidents.

Violet dodged a punch he’d attempted to throw, he’d only just missed her face, his knuckle grazing her cheek and leaving a cold imprint from his created wind. She lunging at him again. ‘Let’s end this fight’ she thought as she pushed harder into the lung hoping to tackle him. Instead he side stepped her, grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against a tree with so much force she could already feel the trickle of blood dripping down the back of her neck. “Stop fighting.” He demanded, a scowl resting on his face. He clocked on to how she didn’t even seem to be in any kind of pain. Almost like she was used to this kind of treatment.

Violet smiled, throwing the man completely off guard. How could she smile at a time like this? Without giving him a chance to think about it, she threw her head back before slamming her forehead straight into his nose. Their heads connected with a sickening crack. He stumbled backwards, wiping the blood from his bleeding cartilage flicking it onto broken brambles and twigs that lay scattered on the mud.

She just head-butted him, with an innocent smile on her face.

Violet lunged again, using the tree to give her more force. He barely had time to recover from his shocked state, yet she was already on the attack again. She aimed for his stomach, winding him and bringing him to the ground. She had the upper hand. She grabbed the blade that had fallen from her hands and held it tightly against his neck, assuming the fight was finally over, she wanted answers before she’d end his life but fate seemed to have other plans.

Somehow he had flipped the position, Pinning her arms against the ground and using his weight to keep her body from moving. “Stop fighting.” He seethed. Anger evident in his features. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He gritted out, clenching his jaw and tightening his hold on her arms to prove his point. Something within Violet went rigid, her body relaxing on the ground causing all her muscles to contract, easing the tenseness they had seconds ago.

No, she didn’t lose the fight because it simply wasn’t over. Fights only finished when there was only one person left alive. She’d been taught a fight was to death, anything else would simply be an altercation and she truly believed that. Sensing that she’d somewhat given up fighting the man’s grip loosened and he supported some of his body weight on his forearms, letting her breathe. But not moving away so she could make a run for it. He’d somehow knew she’d be the escape artist and keeping her trapped would work in his favour, not hers.

“My names Mateo little one.” What was it with everyone calling her little one? Comparing herself to all females around her she was slightly on the taller side, always a few inches taller than every female she’d met anyway. She was obviously no way near the height compared to some of the men she’d met even killed, but she certainly wasn’t little. “Violet.” She’d huffed out a response, breathless from her hidden anger. If Mateo didn’t want to harm her maybe they could work something out, he didn’t turn down from fighting her but he had the upper hand and still hadn’t killed her meaning he must want something from her. Everyone was ruthless in this game after all.

Mateo nudged Violet in a joking manner a fake smile coating his features. “See, wasn’t so hard was it?” He mocked, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy looking for a new owner. “What were you running from?” He quizzed finally getting to his feet and holding a hand out for her to grab. She didn’t though, she pushed herself from the ground rubbing the back of her head. She’d sustained enough head injuries in one day and the headache accounted that.

Mumbling softly she gazed down at her hand. Blood. Great. “No one, I just enjoy running in the woods.” Her eyes remained focused on her blood covered hand as she flipped it multiple times, pretending like it was such an intriguing object. He’d hummed in response, finally looking at her. Really looking at her.

Her baby blue silk gown had been torn in various places and a layer of dried blood covered a decent part of her dress, albeit she didn’t seem to care. There was a slit that ran through the bottom of her dress exposing her left leg when she took a step forward. Her cloak, a darker shade of blue, somehow wasn’t damaged at all. No blood or rips in the delicate fabric. Now that he finally observed her, Mateo realised just how gorgeous the woman in front of him was. He knew those cold hazel eyes would remain forever imprinted in his brain and she’d surely haunt his dreams.