Ceci est l'article 2 sur 4 de la série Kyra

I was lying there, in my own blood. Three arrows in my back, one in my leg. Funny how blood taste like iron, I had noticed it days before, when they started beating me and I got all that blood in my mouth almost all day long. But today it was different; it wasn’t in my mouth, but more in the air, a smell, the iron smell of my own death.

No more pain though, no more torture. I was glad in a way. I couldn’t feel a thing anymore; which is something I had hoped for so many times in the past few days. Peace was coming at last…

The horror was going to end there, in that field. The vision of my family; butchered in front of me by those green monsters was fading, as was those terrible days following the massacre, were I was repeatedly tortured, raped and famished. Yes… Peace at last… I just had to let it go, forget it all, and take the trip to join my loved ones…

And I did… I died that day, in that field. The teenage girl that I was died, her body and her mind broken by the monstrosities she had endured.

That was a long time ago, and today I am still wondering what happened exactly in that field where I died. I mean I do remember waking up against a tree, hurting from the fresh wounds. But I cannot be sure if the incantations I heard were real or just the figment of my imagination. Was I saved by a roaming druid? And if that so, why did he leave before I regain consciousness?

For years I questioned myself of that matter, I do it less now. After all, maybe I wanted to live so badly that I came back, that I crawled under that tree myself, got rid of the arrows piercing my body and lost consciousness for a while, who knows?

One thing for sure, it doesn’t change the fact that a girl died that day, and I, Kyra, was the one who woke up.

Ten years I had to live on my own. Steal what I could from the beasts of the wild, from the streets of the cities, from the wanderers off the roads. Making my own rules, which really was essentially ONE simple rule: Survive at all costs!

Those ten years, and what started it all, made me what I am today: a rogue. No shame, that’s who I am today, I don’t deny it, and I don’t hide it either.

I made my first kill at twelve years old, it was a boar. The beast was going through my stash of berries and apples that had taken me days to get. I grabbed the first thing I could, a dead branch, and I started pounding the beast until it stopped moving and squealing. When it was over, I was covered in blood and sweat… I really did not enjoy it. But, it gave me meat for days… So I did it again, and again…

At fifteen, a wood dweller thought I was pretty – and more if affinity. There was no affinity on my part, but he insisted, so… I treated him like a boar, at least for the clubbing part of it. He wanted to be inside of me so badly that I did give him this satisfaction after all. I bite and swallowed its left piggy during our fight, to distract him before the final blow. I mean, he was twice my size, that’s fair enough right?

Honestly, I prefer boar meat anyway. But hey, if I had been hungry at that time, his corpse might not have ended up rotting in the open for the beasts to feast on…

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