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Jora didn’t answer him right away. Her attention had shifted—sharpened—like a blade catching light. She turned her head slowly toward the window, toward the path that cut through the trees from the shoreline, and her hand lifted just a fraction. A silent signal. Wait. “There,” she said under her breath. Someone had broken from the cover of the trees. Not rushing blindly—but moving fast, purposeful, feet sure on the ground as they ate up distance toward the cabin. No hesitation. No scouting. Whoever it was knew exactly where they were going. Knew the path. Knew the house. Jora’s spine straightened, every instinct snapping into place. “That’s not a messenger,” she murmured, voice calm but edged steel. “They’re not lost. And they’re not waiting for permission.” Her hand slid instinctively to Sage’s arm—not to stop him, but to anchor him. To keep them aligned. Her jaw set. A quick glance toward the hall, toward where Lyra would be. “If this turns loud, I want distance between them and our daughter.” She shifted closer to Sage, her voice dropping to something fierce and intimate. “If you get a clean chance away from the house, I won’t stop you,” she said. “But not where Lyra can hear it. Not where she can see.” Her gaze never left the figure storming toward them, her body already angling to place herself between the threat and her family. “They’re walking like they expect the door to open,” Jora finished quietly. “It won’t.” |
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Sage had noticed the shift in her body language even before she had motioned for her to wait, and had noticed the figure quickly after seeing her gaze move towards the window. He stiffined, heart rising in his throat. He couldnt tell who this person was, but there was a person moving straight towards them. They had been quicker than he'd expected. They were here. "No," he noted, wrapping an arm around Jora protectively, instinctively moving slightly in front of her. If they burst in with a weapon, he didn't want her right in their line of fire. He didn't see a sword on them, or any going of metal, but a skilled fighter could easily hide weapons from sight. "Me too," he noted, giving her a tense nod when she mentioned not doing anything where Lyra would see. "If we can get rid of them while she's asleep, that would be best," he breathed. He could hope for that, but he knew that would be hard to do. He grunted softly in agreement when she said the door wouldn't open, sort of gently guiding her backwards slightly so they were close to Lyra's room. Well...close enough that if someone came in through the back door they would see and have time to stop them. But they could still se the front door...and the shadowy figure outside. It would be harder to see them though, since they were in the dark hallway rather than by the fire. His mind was working now, focused on the task before them. He quietly moved to check his dagger, and place a few bullets in the pistol he'd grabbed earlier as well, clipping that to his belt. Jora would have her own weapons, so he didn't pry at her....but he did glance over at her, making sure she was prepared. He didn't want anyone getting hurt. |
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Jora let him shift in front of her—but only just. Enough to satisfy the instinct, not enough to remove herself from the line of what was coming. Her hand stayed firm at his side, fingers digging briefly into fabric, a grounding pressure that said I’m here as much as don’t forget me. Her eyes never left the darkened shape outside. “They’re alone,” she murmured after a beat, tracking the silhouette’s movement with practiced focus. “Or they want us to think they are.” She adjusted her stance as he guided her back, placing her feet where she could pivot fast, where the walls gave cover but not confinement. The hallway’s shadows wrapped around them, firelight dulled to a distant glow—good. Let the stranger see less than they expected. When Sage checked his weapons, Jora’s own hand slipped beneath her jacket, fingers brushing familiar steel. She was ready. She always was. Her breathing stayed slow, measured, despite the tension coiling tight in her chest—and the instinctive urge to press a hand to her stomach, to shield the life there. She resisted it. Fear showed weakness. She wouldn’t give that away. Her gaze flicked once toward Lyra’s door. “Stay quiet,” she whispered, more prayer than command. Please stay asleep. Footsteps crunched outside now—close. Too close. Her jaw tightened. She straightened, shoulders squared, eyes locked on the door as a shadow passed across the narrow windowpane. Whatever was coming had made its choice. So had she. |
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Sages own eyes followed the movement of the person, whoever it was, as they slid along the side of the house, ears flicking slightly as he tracked them. He was grateful for the good hearing his mother had given him....it did make things like this easier. For instance, the woods were too quiet. Like the animals had all fled, and now everything that was there was taking precautions to stay quiet. He tilted his head, focusing past the shadowy figure, closing his eyes as he listened. He trusted Jora to focus on the person close to them. "I don't think they're alone," he breathed after a few moments of silence, opening his eyes again, breath nearly stopping when he noticed the figure peer into the small window in their door, muscles tensing as he readied himself for.... anything really. Energy, pulsing under his skin, just waiting to be released. His fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger, the other hand staying on joras back. Not enough to inhibit any movement from either of them, but giving himself courage as much as giving her some as well. He heard the door handle jiggle, and then the scraping of someone trying to pick the lock. He let out a small hiss of breath, glancing at jora and checking to make sure they weren't looking in the window before creeping towards the door, positioning himself beside it so if they got in, he could grab them and take them out as quickly and quietly as possible. This was it. And they could not mess up. |
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Jora’s pulse stayed steady—but only because she forced it to. The moment Sage breathed that warning, her attention split cleanly in two. One part of her tracked the figure at the door. The other stretched outward, listening with everything she had, the way she’d learned to do long before this life—before gardens and peace and children. And he was right. The quiet wasn’t natural. Her jaw tightened as realization settled in. Not panic. Calculation. “There,” she murmured back just as softly, her lips barely moving. “To the west. Treeline.” She didn’t turn her head. Didn’t give it away. But she felt them now—pressure rather than sound. Weight where there shouldn’t be any. Whoever was at the door wasn’t alone. They were the distraction. Jora shifted with care, angling her body so she could see the hallway and the side window at once. One hand slid up Sage’s spine in a brief, grounding press—I hear it too. You’re not imagining it. When the handle jiggled, her breath slowed even further. “Lock’s not holding long,” she whispered. “They came prepared.” Her eyes flicked to Sage as he moved, and she adjusted instantly, stepping opposite him, covering the angle he couldn’t. If the door came open, they’d funnel through narrow. If someone came from the back— Her gaze cut sharply toward the rear of the house. “Two. Maybe three,” she breathed. “They’re spacing themselves out. They want us to commit to the front.” Her hand finally went to her stomach then—not in fear, but in instinct—before she caught herself and moved it away, curling her fingers around the weapon hidden at her side instead. Her posture stayed calm. Coiled. When Sage crept toward the door, Jora followed just enough to stay connected, her shoulder brushing his arm. Close. Silent. United. “If it opens,” she whispered, voice like steel wrapped in silk, “you take the one at the door. I’ll handle anything that moves behind us.” The scraping at the lock grew more insistent. Jora’s eyes never left the dark seam of the doorway, every muscle ready to explode into motion. “Now,” she murmured—not yet a command. Just a promise. Whatever crossed that threshold next would not find a frightened family. It would find two people who had survived worse—and were done running |
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Sage had grunted softly, not looking at the treeline shed pointed out, but angling the soft points of his left ear, the one facing them, slightly in that direction. "You're right," he noted. "There's a small group of them." That brought a slight scowl to his face, brows pinching as he thought. He glanced over at jora as she mentioned the lock, nodding silently. "Keep an eye on the back door," he breathed. Now that they were by the front door, someone could easily sneak in from behind if they weren't careful. And they would get to Lyra before they could if they didn't notice it right away. When she mentioned taking care of anyone behind the immediate threat, he nodded, positioning himself to take out this man...or woman...before anyone else could register anything. That would be best. "Watch for bullets. Or arrows," he reminded her gently. Then he heard the sound of the lock clicking. The door handle turning. He crouched slightly, letting the door creak open a few inches before whirling and opening it, his dagger cutting through the man's neck. It was a deep cut, so that not even a gurgle left the man's lips as he collapsed, staying low himself in case Jora needed to get a weapon over his head. He did notice the man had a small crossbow connected to his belt, already loaded, so he grabbed that and fired into the area they'd thought the other people were, grunting when he heard a pained yell sound from the bushes, as well as a few other panicked whispers. It sounded like he'd hit them good. Then he'd backed up, closing the door and relocking it. If this man has crossbows, the others would too. Possibly more powerful ones. He was proven right when a heavy bolt hit the door. The thick wood had stopped it, thankfully, but the point had gone through it, leaving it half in and half out of the door. If he'd left the door open a second longer, it would have gone right between his eyes. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the bolt, anger starting to churn in his stomach. "They're dead," he hissed, moving to cross the room quickly and grab a powerful bow and quiver full of heavy arrows. |
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Jora moved the instant the door opened. While Sage struck true at the front, she was already in motion—silent, precise, every sense stretched tight. The sound of the crossbow twang and the answering cry from the treeline confirmed it: they’d drawn blood, but the fight wasn’t over. Her attention snapped to the back of the house just as boots crunched against gravel. “Back door,” she breathed—not loudly, just enough for Sage to hear. The latch rattled. Jora didn’t wait for it to open. She crossed the short distance in three fast, controlled steps and drove her shoulder into the doorframe, bracing it with her weight as a bolt slammed into the wood from the outside, splintering it inches from her head. The impact jarred her teeth. She hissed, more in anger than pain. “Cowards,” she muttered. She reached up, fingers closing around the knife she kept hidden along her forearm, and in one smooth motion yanked the back door open just enough to bait them. A man lunged forward—too eager, too confident. Jora grabbed his wrist mid-strike, twisted hard, and felt bone give. He screamed—but only once. She stepped in close, drove the knife up under his ribs, and eased him down to the ground so his body didn’t thud. She didn’t stop moving. Another shadow broke from the trees, crossbow half-raised. Jora ducked as the bolt screamed past where her head had been, feeling the air shear beside her ear. She rolled, came up on one knee, and hurled her knife in the same breath. It hit true—throat. Clean. She didn’t wait to see him fall. Jora yanked the first man’s dropped crossbow from the ground, cocked it with a sharp pull, and fired back into the trees where whispers and hurried footsteps betrayed the rest. A scream answered her shot—followed by chaos. “Two down,” she called sharply, voice steady despite the burn in her muscles. “They’re scattering.” She backed toward the house, keeping the crossbow trained outward, placing herself squarely between the attackers and the cabin—between them and Lyra. Her heart hammered, but her hands were steady. When she reached the doorway, she glanced once toward the hall—toward her daughter’s room—then back to the treeline, eyes hard and unflinching. |
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Sage felt his head snap towards the other end of the house when Jora mentioned that someone was there. Men were coming towards the front now too though, so he focused on them, trusting Jora to take care of the other door. He opened the door, quickly stepping out and then closing it behind him in order to keep any arrows from getting inside the house. He could see the men running towards him though, so he lifted the bow, stringing his arrow on his bow and letting it fly. He couldn't hear anything coming from Lyra's room, so she was still asleep ...and now that bodies were strewn across the lawn he just prayed she stayed that way. There were no windows in her room ....but she could get out. And then she'd be in danger. He didn't hear any more men after the three he'd taken out, though, so he checked the tree line once more before sliding back into the house and closing and relocking the door. He moved to the back door then, pausing to peek into Lyra's room, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that the girl hadn't moved. Good, she was still asleep. Maybe they could get away with this after all. He moved to the back door then, to check on Jora. She had taken care of the men there, which was good. He moved to examine her nervously, shoulders slumping with relief when he noticed she was alright. "We should take care of the bodies, just in case Lyra wakes," he noted after a moment. The people had all been killed, which meant they had time. Until they didn't come back or someone watching from the boat had seen all this happen....well, they weren't in any danger. Not yet. So, he moved out into the yard to start dragging the bodies away. They could toss them in the ocean, get rid of them quietly that way. Lyra would never find them. |
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Jora watched him move through the house with that same sharp, efficient focus she’d seen a thousand times before—and every time it still tightened something in her chest. Relief washed through her when he came back to her in one piece, when his hands were on her shoulders, checking, grounding, real. “I’m fine,” she said quietly before he could even ask, catching his wrist and giving it a small squeeze. “Just scraped. Nothing deep.” Her gaze followed his toward the dark shapes on the ground beyond the doors, jaw setting as reality settled back in. Dead men on their land. Blood in the grass. Proof that this wasn’t a warning—it was a breach. She nodded once at his suggestion. “Yes. Before the light changes.” Jora moved with him, grabbing a lantern and keeping it hooded low, just enough glow to see by without casting far. Outside, the night air was sharp with smoke and iron. She forced her breathing steady, one hand unconsciously hovering near her middle as she scanned the treeline again—not for movement, but for watchers. “No one else close,” she murmured after a moment, listening hard. “If there were more, they would’ve pressed when the shooting started.” She helped him drag the bodies, careful with her footing, directing more than lifting when the weight strained her. Strong, yes—but not reckless. Not now. She wiped blood from the grass where she could, kicked loose soil over darker stains, already thinking ahead. “The ocean will take them,” she said, voice low. “But we should stagger where we drop them. Don’t make it obvious they all fell in one place.” Her eyes flicked toward the water, where the ship loomed closer than it had any right to be now. “This was a probe,” Jora continued, tone hardening. “They wanted to see how fast we’d respond. How many of us there were. If fear would make us sloppy.” She met Sage’s gaze then, fierce and unwavering. “It didn’t.” Once the last body was gone, she paused, resting her hands on her knees for a brief second longer than usual. She straightened before he could comment, brushing dirt from her palms. “We get inside,” she said. “Clean up. Reset the locks. And when Lyra wakes—tomorrow is just another day.” Her voice softened just a fraction as she stepped closer to him again. “You did exactly what you needed to do,” she added. “So did I.” And as she glanced once more toward the dark sea, resolve settled deep in her bones. “They came for a foothold,” Jora said quietly. “They didn’t get one.” |
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Sage felt his shoulders slump with relief when Jora said she was fine, letting out a soft breath. Good, they had both survived this. They would come abc with more men, a better plan, but for now they had time. They had won the battle. For now, that's what mattered. He was glad to note than Jora wasn't straining herself too much....he could drag the bodies around easily enough, even if they were larger than him. She was helping, but he was glad she wasn't pushing herself too much. The baby was still there, still precious. He didn't want anything to happen to it. At her mention of staggering the bodies, he hummed softly in agreement. "We can drop them in a few different spots," he thought out loud. There were plenty of places to do that, but he wanted them where they would get drug out to sea, not rot in a cove and poison the water, staying where Lyra might come across a corpse. The island needed to stay pure for her. At joras comment about gaining a foothold, he shook his head. "No. And they're not going to," he murmured. "We're not giving up our home. Not after everything we've been through to make it home." He was resolute o that. He was quiet as he spoke, but there was an edge there....one he was all too familiar with. One that told anyone around him that he was willing to let the world burn around him as long as his family and his home was safe. Together. That was all that mattered. Dropping the bodies took maybe an hour or two, and by the time they'd made it back to the house, reset all the locks, and then checked on the meat that was still cooking....well, he was exhausted. He knew Jora must be tired as well, especially since he'd already had a few hours of rest earlier. "Why don't you try to get some sleep," he suggested softly. "I'll keep an eye out, wake you if I see anyone else coming or anything," he added with a soft smile, sitting down on the couch where he could see the doors and windows, patting the spot next to him. She really should lay down for a bit. |
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Sunny Day with a Full Moon tonight
