She stood, gasping, in the middle of a pile of bloody corpses.
Dead. They were all dead, and she had killed them.
Her sword slipped slowly from her sweaty & trembling hands. Her chest heaved as she fought to control her breathing.
She’d killed them.
They’d certainly meant to kill her. They’d come at her suddenly, from the shadows of the alley on her left, but she’d seen them before, noticed their glances & subtle hand signs a few streets back, so she’d been ready.
Now, in this dark and narrow alley, the stones wet with fresh blood, the horrible reality of what she’d done, what her training had prepared her to do, sank into her mind like a cold, terrible nightmare.
For the first time, she’d killed – and not just one person, but half a dozen trained assassins – and she had done it all without so much as a scratch to herself.
Her mind spun as she stooped to pick up her blade, trying not to glance at the slashed bodies lying about her feet. Her training came back to her as she absently pulled a cloth from her pocket and wiped the blade before sheathing it.
She stepped gingerly around the bodies and the puddles of blood, and began to walk out of the alley. At first she could barely stand, her knees threatening to give out, but with each step away from that spot, her strength seemed to grow, and she walked quicker and quicker, before finally breaking into a run.
They were all dead… And she was alive.
