Blind Girl

And those that couldn't accept the small, blind girl but their master's side…

"—were quickly dealt with." He whispered harshly while breathing harshly, anxious for the rookie to understand and understand quickly.

The young, recently recruited member of Twinblade's assemblage shrugged carelessly at the information given to him by his fretful senior and adjusted his cap. He could see the growing ire clearly in the posture of his fellow bandit—and honestly didn't know whether to be amused or what. He decided on the safer route, adopting a charming smirk and opting to give his reassurances.

"Alright, alright!" the rookie held his hands up in a harmless gesture. "Don't irk the blind broad, I got it."

His senior sighed, both in relief and exasperation. "You'd better understand." He muttered gruffly. "Got enough people dying 'cause they were fool enough to mess with her."

He walked away quickly, ducking his head and glancing about as though the girl they were speaking of would show up on a whim. He certainly didn't want to get caught spreading tales… even if they were true enough. He left the rookie behind to adjust his cap again, feeling a little uncomfortable the way he had it just then. The rookie, of course, had no intention of messing with the girl if it worried everyone so much.

He was the one with sense, apparently.

Whistling a merry tune, the rookie began walking in the opposite direction as his senior. He had patrol duty that night—as the new recruits typically had. He fell silent as he watched, eyes giving a good sweep of the path he was supposed to guard, and as he fell into his new routine his mind shoved all thoughts of the blind girl aside. His job was to watch, and if there were problems, stop them.

And it wasn't exactly a long time before a problem arose.

He could recall, exactly, what it was that first alerted him. The scream or the splatter? A sword found its way into his hand and he ducked behind some bushes, ready to ambush whoever it was interrupting his quiet night. A single glance made him halt where he was, frozen to the spot with his sword grasped tightly in his fist.

There was a bandit on the ground, one he recognized as a fellow rookie, and a young girl standing over him. There was what seemed to be a dagger in one hand, and in her other was a sullied cloth that she was using to wipe it clean. From what light there was—provided both by the moon and the scattered torches around—he could see her almost clearly. Faded brown hair fell around her shoulders, lank but cared for, and there was a thick strip of cloth wrapped around her eyes.

It was her.

And those that couldn't accept the small, blind girl…

She was petite, hardly appearing a threat, and blind to boot. But the rookie noticed something… he noticed that maybe those intricate tattoos climbing her arms may have been nice for a small, pale blind girl—if they weren't done in the color of that blood rapidly pooling around the felled bandit's body. He was dead, stabbed once in the chest with his weapon still in hand.

He was quickly dealt with.

The rookie released a breath that he hadn't known he was holding as he backed away as quietly as possible. Maybe she wouldn't notice... maybe…

She looked at him—or rather, she turned her head in his direction, either way to him it amounted to the same. The cloth covered her ruined eyes, but not the one tattooed to her forehead. It still felt like she could see him. See through him.

He tried speaking, only to find his lips dry, so his wet them and tried again. "A-any problems over here?" he loathed the stutter before it even escaped his mouth.

She shook her head and approached him. "None at all; carry on."

There was a slight breeze on his body as she brushed past him, disappearing into the gates of Twinblade's camp and he heard something. A loud thudding noise echoing through his ears and thrumming through his whole body—it took him several moments to realize it was his heart.

Got enough people dying 'cause they were fool enough to mess with her.

The body was right there, laying there and staring emptily at the sky. He, as his heart settled down, decided that it was a lesson. A lesson that few others learned before it was too late.

(AN: Firestrider, consider this one yours. Not totally Theresa, but it is about her. Indirectly that is, until I can finish that other one-shot I'm thinking for her.)