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The scent of oil on metal added a satisfying tang to the air and she smiled in anticipation as her withered hand drew the cloth along the sharpened blades one final time. Moving to the opposite side of the room she stood above the concoction she had obtained from a seller of such wares this very morning. Slowly, careful to not spill a drop, she poured the remaining ingredient into the bottle and stoppered it quickly lest the fumes reach her face. She attached the vile potion to the leather belt about her waist. Finished caring for her chosen weapons of the day, she drew them along with her and stepped outside into the open air of the warm day.
The bright colors of spring assailed her eyes. A soft breeze played over the flowers surrounding her home. Insects made soft noises as they moved about their day gathering food. Life filled the air. Every corner, each crevice, reeked of it. Today, however, wasn't about life. This day, this glorious day, was about death. The reaper come to take that which was sown.
The intruders had multiplied at a ferocious rate. They made it difficult to slumber. Some even encroached upon her demesne seeking food and shelter. They were an annoyance that had gone on too long. Her mate had long dealt with such things, but he was now gone. Succumbed to the wasting sickness that claimed so many of her kind. The task fell to her. This was fine though. She reveled in the idea of laying waste to those who trespassed upon her domain... and it wasn't at all uncommon in this day and age for a woman to take up duties in defense of her home. Still, few would expect her to enjoy it so.
A malevolent grin appeared on her face. A cackle bubbled up from the stone cold depths of her being. She began moving the blades in a steady hum through the air, pushing forward through the dense brush, she was upon them! They didn't have time to scream, many had no time to flee! Her blades were soon soaked in blood and worse things. Her leather bound feet covered in the blue and green gore of the creatures. She moved forward in joy! They skittered and vaulted away from the torrent of her fury. She hadn't expected so many! Row after row fell to the madness of her abandon. Dead, dying, and dismembered she left them in search for more. The sheer numbers which fell before her... how could the world about her contain so many? She was prepared though. She knew there was a reason her husband never relied on steel alone.
Her hands relinquished the blades and moved to her belt grabbing an oil soaked cloth readied earlier. Long wrinkled fingers settled the mask over her nose and mouth, a jerk securing it in place with a quick tight knot behind her head. She caressed the bottle laying against her leg and moved her hands in the quick staccato which would activate its contents. Dread mist formed about her. A spray of poison filled the air and glittered in the tree filtered rays of sun.
They didn't understand. They never did. Their movements slowed and gait faltered. The vermin could no longer run from her. There was no escape. Black orbs stared up at her from the grass covered ground and found no mercy in her eyes. Her conjured fog of death continued unabated. Finally, after roaming through each place the pests thought to hide, the brew ran out and she pulled the rag from her face to rest about her slender neck. Her tired old lungs pulled in fresh sweet air heavily seasoned by oblivion.
Replaced into the slots her departed lover had long ago fashioned for such things, the implements of her days destruction were clean once more awaiting future use. Careful to remove any lingering toxin from her skin she moved her hands and arms under cold moving water, splashing some against her face, and gently dried her damp skin with an towel nearly as old as her home. Tired from the exertion she rested in a cushioned chair and dozed off. Her hand idly resting on the back of one of her many furred companions. This time when she slept, the sounds of crickets didn't disturb her.
The bright colors of spring assailed her eyes. A soft breeze played over the flowers surrounding her home. Insects made soft noises as they moved about their day gathering food. Life filled the air. Every corner, each crevice, reeked of it. Today, however, wasn't about life. This day, this glorious day, was about death. The reaper come to take that which was sown.
The intruders had multiplied at a ferocious rate. They made it difficult to slumber. Some even encroached upon her demesne seeking food and shelter. They were an annoyance that had gone on too long. Her mate had long dealt with such things, but he was now gone. Succumbed to the wasting sickness that claimed so many of her kind. The task fell to her. This was fine though. She reveled in the idea of laying waste to those who trespassed upon her domain... and it wasn't at all uncommon in this day and age for a woman to take up duties in defense of her home. Still, few would expect her to enjoy it so.
A malevolent grin appeared on her face. A cackle bubbled up from the stone cold depths of her being. She began moving the blades in a steady hum through the air, pushing forward through the dense brush, she was upon them! They didn't have time to scream, many had no time to flee! Her blades were soon soaked in blood and worse things. Her leather bound feet covered in the blue and green gore of the creatures. She moved forward in joy! They skittered and vaulted away from the torrent of her fury. She hadn't expected so many! Row after row fell to the madness of her abandon. Dead, dying, and dismembered she left them in search for more. The sheer numbers which fell before her... how could the world about her contain so many? She was prepared though. She knew there was a reason her husband never relied on steel alone.
Her hands relinquished the blades and moved to her belt grabbing an oil soaked cloth readied earlier. Long wrinkled fingers settled the mask over her nose and mouth, a jerk securing it in place with a quick tight knot behind her head. She caressed the bottle laying against her leg and moved her hands in the quick staccato which would activate its contents. Dread mist formed about her. A spray of poison filled the air and glittered in the tree filtered rays of sun.
They didn't understand. They never did. Their movements slowed and gait faltered. The vermin could no longer run from her. There was no escape. Black orbs stared up at her from the grass covered ground and found no mercy in her eyes. Her conjured fog of death continued unabated. Finally, after roaming through each place the pests thought to hide, the brew ran out and she pulled the rag from her face to rest about her slender neck. Her tired old lungs pulled in fresh sweet air heavily seasoned by oblivion.
Replaced into the slots her departed lover had long ago fashioned for such things, the implements of her days destruction were clean once more awaiting future use. Careful to remove any lingering toxin from her skin she moved her hands and arms under cold moving water, splashing some against her face, and gently dried her damp skin with an towel nearly as old as her home. Tired from the exertion she rested in a cushioned chair and dozed off. Her hand idly resting on the back of one of her many furred companions. This time when she slept, the sounds of crickets didn't disturb her.
