Chapter 51: Right in the face
The hut trembled.
Wooden beams creaked. A heavy crash shook the floor. Loud shrieking echoed through the village path, like a banshee possessed by wrath, hunger, and heartbreak.
Inside the holding quarters—little more than a straw-laced cage for captured beastkin—Fina prowled like a caged predator. Her feet were bare, her claws twitching, and her eyes burned with wild fury. The straw bedding had been torn asunder. Shards of broken clay littered the floor. One of the guards clutched his nose, which now bent slightly sideways, thanks to a cup Rinni had hurled with unexpected accuracy.
Fina growled low in her throat, pacing. Her fur bristled. Her tail lashed behind her like a whip. Her voice was sharp and savage.
"Where. Is. The human?"
Rinni sat curled in the corner, hugging something close to her chest—a crude little doll, shaped from hay and cloth, vaguely resembling Allen. A carrot was tied to the front, too large and far too obvious.
Tears streaked her cheeks. She sniffled.
"They took him, Fina. That cruel fox-woman took him away. She’s going to keep him forever, and... and she’ll squeeze him with her fat bottom until he forgets us and... and makes her his wife..."
She let out another sob and buried her face into the hay-stuffed Allen.
Outside the door, the two guards shared a look—one grizzled and scarred, the other young and already weary beyond his years.
The older one grunted. "I told them the holding huts needed iron bars."