The gang of Knaves

Havilah was helping Opal pick out which pastry she wanted to cut into three pieces to share with the local birds when the gang of knaves entered boisterously. Brandishing their weapons indoors, they made no secret of their ridicule saying,

“-right I had her down begging me to come and visit her again! Dumb lass just wanted to wrestle a bit. By the gods was she rough!” Kenneth the Sly shouted loudly.

Blushing and embarrassed, she hid behind the counter to collect Opal’s pastry. The old woman leaned to Havilah whispering, “Knaves those boys, known them since they were wains. You do best to keep staying away from them. Your mother was worried when they became your friends years ago, though it were the summers of youth where even the vile seem meek. Wrap mine to go lass. I’ll not stay while their rabble fills these halls, in the daylight no less, weevils.” She shunts off glaring at their table. After she passes by Tomas the Lugheaded shoots a flatulating call, erupting the table into giddy boy-ish laughter.

Hidden from view, she cleans the station, but turns when the daggers of a stare vex her. Moth like eyes with their unnerving compound properties study her. Standing only a counter space away, the smell of raspberry lingers in the air, incensing. Looking into those eyes is too difficult, she looks away asking coldly, “what do you want.”

The brooding one, silent and still save for the eyes which gaze upon her breasts with salivation. “We came here for service.” He replied monotone and firm, then turned to return.

Walking to the back room she panted and worried, this was all too much.

“First Angus, now these knaves will not let me alone. By the gods what vile sin have I committed against thee! Shall I plunge the dagger in now while I still draw breath?!” She pulled her dagger close to her. Given to her by Aubrin the old Ranger when she began to bleed. Havilah remembers the sweet smell of lilac bushes and the soft flaky egg tart that her mother had crafted thrice for the perfect consistency. The words Aubrin said, ‘No one will protect you from the demons of this world. You are a woman now, and that duty is no longer your mama’s. Take this, fear evil’s soft first touches, let this blade ward all.’ Her tears had streamed down to her lap, so she dusted herself off.

“Let this blade ward all…” she remembered to herself mournfully.

Looking around the storeroom she became insipidly inspired instantly, “I may not be as strong as you Aubrin but I’ve my own tricks against demons. A few flagons and I’ll have their intestines burst…” she muttered searching for the correct ingredients.

Gnawing at her was the thought that a plan as savvy and decisive as this could lead to problems. If it was traced to her or she failed to brew this right then the consequences could be dire. Worst of all, her mother would not receive medicine if Havilah wasn’t around to procure it.

“I can’t just do nothing. I can’t stand it. I’m not meat, I’m a person…” her dry throat cracks.