Broken

Duna held onto the little boy, her charge, as they were pulled through a portal as dark as a moonless night.

He didn’t make a sound.

She grunted as she tried to hold onto him, tried not to let him go. She wasn’t sure she could survive without him.

So she fought.

The sorcerer tried to pry her hands from around the boy’s ankles, but it wasn’t until he knocked her on the head that she finally let go, hands involuntarily flying up to cradle the spot where he’d hit her.

It took a moment for the resulting dizziness to clear before she realized what had happened.

“No!” she yelled, the sensation of flying ebbing until she was suspended in midair. The sorcerer held tightly to the boy as they moved away from her, leaving her behind.

She slowly began to fall, the rushing, weighted feeling of gravity forcing her down until finally, she hit the earth in a heap, snapping the bone in her forearm.

She screamed in pain, rolling over and gripping the spot with her other hand.

How had this happened? How had she become so attached, only to have the boy taken away?

Her face crumpled, but tears did not fall. She forced herself to sit up and look around, to stand and run in the direction the boy had gone. But in the darkness, her massive feet tripped her up, and she hit the ground again, yowling in pain.

All signs of them were gone. She climbed to her knees, searching unfamiliar mountains.

This time when she stood, she moved at a slow walk, making herself a promise.

I won’t stop.

She panted as she struggled onward.

I will never stop.

She gritted her teeth.

And I’ll kill the bastard that took him.

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