Friday Flash Fiction: Week 8

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place
have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday.

And here is the eighth picture prompt:

 

 

Here is my story.

Balance
By Michelle Greathouse

Nira drew her sera blade and with practiced ease, threw it at the retreating raider - he fell with her blade lodged in his throat.  Nira made quick work of the remaining three intruders before stopping to make sure the Elder and young initiates were safe.

She had been out hunting when the raiders arrived at the temple, in the guise of pilgrims seeking guidance from Saar, the Goddess of Balance.  Once inside the temple, the men threw off their cloaks and began ransacking the temple for anything of worth.  

Upon her arrival, the men tried to flee.  With her shorn hair, thin braid, arm markings and weapons - it was obvious that Nira was a warrior priestess - and a very accomplished one at that, only one man made it out alive and Nira vowed to follow him and return the sacred urn he had stolen.

Retrieving her blades from the bodies of the dead men, Nira nodded to the Elder and left the Temple in search of the remaining thief.  She knew he had to be heading towards the fuel dock, hoping to find a way off-world with his stolen goods - so Nira took the most obvious route.

She was as familiar with these woods as her own face, it did not take her long to catch up with the fleeing man whose path was all too clear.  She heard him long before she saw him - crashing through the brush, falling over a hidden log and screaming at the various snakes and bugs he encountered along the way.

If his crime were not so severe, Nira would find this amusing.

Finally the noise stopped and Nira made her way cautiously into a clearing to find the man sitting on a rock, breathing heavy and wiping the sweat from his face.  He looked up when she walked out of the forest.

“You have come to kill me.”  He said matter of factly.  Placing the urn at his feet.

“I have come to bring balance”.  Nira replied

The man stood as if he were accepting of his fate, but Nira knew better, she drew her side arm faster than he did and watched as he fell to the forest floor.

Making her way to the end of the path, Nira sat, arms folded on her knees and breathed.  In, out.  Focus.  Within minutes she was centered once more.  Standing, she removed her bloodied and torn dirndl and made her way to the clearing.  She lay her dirndl on the ground and carefully placed the urn in the middle, gently folding the cloth over until she had a sling she could easily carry.

Glancing down at the dead man, Nira watched as a cyclopean snake wrapped itself around the body.

Balance.  It was all about Balance.

The End
Word Count: 472

What do you think about this one?  I went in a completely different direction with my first draft - had about 600 words written and then changed my mind.  I'm pretty pleased with how this turned out. :)

M