Winged Shadow Chapter I

Winged Shadow

Chapter I: The Decision

Thud. Thud. Thud. The continuous sound of the knife hitting the target soothed Delila. The knives created a perfect circle on her makeshift target, comprised of soft pine planks and dull red paint. As she walked slowly down to retrieve the long, sharp knives, she went over the conversation her parents had had last night in her head.

Her mother had said that Delila would be an innkeeper, that she would cook and sew and be lady like. Her father wanted her to continue the family farm. Neither of them seemed to care that she wanted to be an outsider.

To the townspeople of Keslain, anyone that joined a warrior clan, whether it was Silver Fox, Skullface, Winged Shadow, or Snakehead, was an outsider. The townspeople described these clans as lethal and barbaric. They avoided and shunned the clans as much as possible.

Delila sighed. She put all seven knives in the specially made sheaths in her jacket. She reluctantly stepped up onto the stone porch, and her boots clacked on the gray river stones. She slowly opened the wooden door, bracing herself for the angry shouts of her parents. She was not disappointed.

“The farm has always been the Kaleo’s! We have no need to sell it and buy some unstable house to convert into an inn. The farm, for sure, will make at least enough to support a family! Now you want to sell it, and take a chance that she might make enough, just because it’s more ladylike? Ridiculous!” Her father ranted.

“Actually, I think a man would want to be with a lady more if she was an owner of a steady business than if she had to work outside in the dirt!” exclaimed her mother, flustered.

“What a load of-”

“Don’t you want to hear what I want to do?” Interrupted Delila.

“Of course! Explain to your father that you’d much rather have an inn, and you’d work there, than in some dirty barn!” Answered Delila’s mother.

“Now, see here darling-” her father put in.

“Actually,” said Delila, “I think I’d quite like to … maybe… fight with the warrior clans.” The room fell deathly silent. Then Delila's mother and father both started to shout.

“Absolutely not!”

“Out of the question!”

“Preposterous!”

“That you would even suggest it is an insult!”

“But why not?” asked Delila, exasperated.

“Because, Delila, it is utterly wrong! The shame… it would be an absolute disgrace! Also, because you are a girl, who should be sewing and cooking and taking care of your home. Like it or not, you are a woman, and it is time you started acting like one!”

“But-”

“No buts! I have made my decision. Now, go feed the pigs.”

Delila sighed. Frustrated, she walked outside, dragging her feet.

“If I see you throwing those horrible knives again, you’ll be sleeping in the barn!” Her mother shrieked through the window.

If only they wanted me to fight, thought Delila. She wished that they understood. Delila trudged across the small, worn path through the farm, envisioning herself on the battlefield. As always, she had her jacket of knives on, and she fingered a knife now. It had a small, sharp steel blade and a hard leather hilt. As she held it , she heard a small twig crack. She whipped around, and saw two ugly men with small, iron-studded wooden clubs. One of them had a very large, red nose and a bald, shiny head. He was very fat. The other one was lean and muscular, with spiky black hair and a square jaw. He spotted her, and the big sack she carried. He started to race toward her, and his companion followed. She looked around, and saw a sturdy looking oak tree. She ran to it, and started to climb. She had always been nimble with her arms and feet. Blood pounded in her head as she got as high as she could go. She saw the lean man leering at her from below.

“Come on down, darling. We promise we won’t hurt you… much.” He said, grinning. His comrade had now arrived, huffing and puffing. Delila’s mind raced. She’d have to come down sometime. All that was in her bag was oats, but they didn’t know that. They probably thought it had money or something in it. Then, after they tore it apart, they would kill her so she wouldn’t tell anybody anything.

That thought made her blood run cold. She then came to a decision. She grabbed two sturdy, sharp knives and waited for them to look away. Eventually, they started an argument.

Delila took a deep breath and jumped onto the shoulder of one of the men, the fat one. She took a knife and hit him hard in his temple with the hilt. He fell over, unconscious.  She quickly leapt off of him. The other man started whacking at her with his club. She ducked, and threw her knife at him. It caught him in the thigh, and he howled in pain. He staggered toward her, dropping his club. She turned and sprinted back to her house.

The donkeys were gone, so her parents were out in town. She went inside and locked the doors. She ran into her bedroom and took a deep breath. Delila made up her mind. She was going to run away to find the warrior clans. Delila started stuffing enough supplies for a week into her pack. She left behind a note on her bed, saying

I have decided to go and follow my dream. I hope that you do not hate me. I think that I could make a much better warrior than a farmer or an innkeeper.

Love, Your daughter,

Delila

She told herself that the reason she left was because she was good at fighting. But the truth was, she wanted to fight, because she had never felt more alive.