Post by Colleen on Jul 1, 2020 22:28:33 GMT
Colleen’s cocked ear was tilted toward the sound of battle behind her, through the shabby curtain, across the main room, out the open door, in the street with Cassandra. But the rest of her stayed glaring down at Connor.
For a heartbeat, they were just looking at one another. She felt thoughts stampeding through her head with the faintest reminder of rush hour in Snowflake Square. One line of thinking stepped right over the next, mumbled with adrenaline and resentment and excitement and insecurity and something else she wouldn’t look at.
If he thinks he’s climbing back out of that tunnel I’ll step on his triangle of a head—Why’s he always so difficult—that poor mite of a human, how dare he take his time—what’s that look for, does he think he’s scaring me with those soft brown eyes?!—was that Cass, I’ve got to help her—I wish he’d stop looking at me and do as he’s told—I wish I could trust him again—I don’t, he’s a wolf, wolves only care about wolves—
Then she registered what he’d said, and the confusion behind the round canine face was slammed away by all-encompassing anger. It mostly came from the way he said it.
”An’ what makes you think I’d ever feel safer with you?” Now there was something more than her usual bad temper behind the biting words. There was a hotness under her cheeks and something similarly burning behind her eyes, which locked more fiercely on Connor. If her tone didn’t communicate it, her face did: war zone or no, nothing had changed, and he was still a blaggard. ”I’d sooner take my chances with the Thorns.”
To cover up the tremble of strong emotion in the last, furiously quiet sentence, Colleen kicked the slat of wood holding the door up away. It closed with a bang that didn’t rival the sound of fighting outside. She whirled, torn skirt and tail fluttering, away from the shut tunnel entrance and out through the blacksmith’s hut. She could smell smoke, and see the gleam of her ally’s armor, but her mind wouldn’t catch up. It stayed on the look on Connor’s face.
Milky eyebrows scrunched while Colleen switched to running on all fours to close the distance. Too bad. What did he mean, trying to sound protective? Telling her what to do, as if he cared whether she lived or died? He had no right to care—she wouldn’t either!
Focus, lassie!
Colleen was almost grateful for the tumult she burst back into as she left the open door. Sure enough, one wild look around confirmed it. Two buildings were on fire, and a third was catching. Screaming, blood—where was the man in white? Had he lost his fight? Because the burly beast was attacking Dragon! Oh, no—would the reptile not be fit to keep the refugees (which Connor had better be transporting) safe after all? Colleen’s first impulse was to go help the dragon. Then her sense came back to her. What could a frilly schoolteacher, even with Scottish fire in her veins, do unarmed?
But Cassandra could help Dragon!
Colleen remembered all at once she was only a step away from the skirmish between Cass and the spear-toting maniac. One half-formed thought came to her. The woman with the actual useful sword and armor needed to stop tousling with this barbarian and fry bigger fish: specifically, the one trying to kill their protective Dragon.
So she made one of her reckless decisions, the type which always distressed her father. The collie took a gulp of air and threw herself forward, trying to tackle the Inuit to the ground from the side. It wasn’t much, but it couldn’t hurt, right?
Well, except for the instant headache her skull and shoulder colliding with his ribcage summoned, but that would be worth it if she could help Cass get rid of him quickly.
For a heartbeat, they were just looking at one another. She felt thoughts stampeding through her head with the faintest reminder of rush hour in Snowflake Square. One line of thinking stepped right over the next, mumbled with adrenaline and resentment and excitement and insecurity and something else she wouldn’t look at.
If he thinks he’s climbing back out of that tunnel I’ll step on his triangle of a head—Why’s he always so difficult—that poor mite of a human, how dare he take his time—what’s that look for, does he think he’s scaring me with those soft brown eyes?!—was that Cass, I’ve got to help her—I wish he’d stop looking at me and do as he’s told—I wish I could trust him again—I don’t, he’s a wolf, wolves only care about wolves—
Then she registered what he’d said, and the confusion behind the round canine face was slammed away by all-encompassing anger. It mostly came from the way he said it.
”An’ what makes you think I’d ever feel safer with you?” Now there was something more than her usual bad temper behind the biting words. There was a hotness under her cheeks and something similarly burning behind her eyes, which locked more fiercely on Connor. If her tone didn’t communicate it, her face did: war zone or no, nothing had changed, and he was still a blaggard. ”I’d sooner take my chances with the Thorns.”
To cover up the tremble of strong emotion in the last, furiously quiet sentence, Colleen kicked the slat of wood holding the door up away. It closed with a bang that didn’t rival the sound of fighting outside. She whirled, torn skirt and tail fluttering, away from the shut tunnel entrance and out through the blacksmith’s hut. She could smell smoke, and see the gleam of her ally’s armor, but her mind wouldn’t catch up. It stayed on the look on Connor’s face.
Milky eyebrows scrunched while Colleen switched to running on all fours to close the distance. Too bad. What did he mean, trying to sound protective? Telling her what to do, as if he cared whether she lived or died? He had no right to care—she wouldn’t either!
Focus, lassie!
Colleen was almost grateful for the tumult she burst back into as she left the open door. Sure enough, one wild look around confirmed it. Two buildings were on fire, and a third was catching. Screaming, blood—where was the man in white? Had he lost his fight? Because the burly beast was attacking Dragon! Oh, no—would the reptile not be fit to keep the refugees (which Connor had better be transporting) safe after all? Colleen’s first impulse was to go help the dragon. Then her sense came back to her. What could a frilly schoolteacher, even with Scottish fire in her veins, do unarmed?
But Cassandra could help Dragon!
Colleen remembered all at once she was only a step away from the skirmish between Cass and the spear-toting maniac. One half-formed thought came to her. The woman with the actual useful sword and armor needed to stop tousling with this barbarian and fry bigger fish: specifically, the one trying to kill their protective Dragon.
So she made one of her reckless decisions, the type which always distressed her father. The collie took a gulp of air and threw herself forward, trying to tackle the Inuit to the ground from the side. It wasn’t much, but it couldn’t hurt, right?
Well, except for the instant headache her skull and shoulder colliding with his ribcage summoned, but that would be worth it if she could help Cass get rid of him quickly.