Murder

Arawn shuddered at the wave of power that rushed through the air as the bandit’s head went flying.
“What the—”
“Kill her!”
The woman screamed as the body fell on top of her, but Sirona said nothing. She stepped aside and darted towards the other bandits and struck them down with surprising ease. The first choked as she plunged the sword into his chest. The next lost his arm then his head. His body collapsed still twitching.
“Who the hell—”
“Kill her!”
The woman on the ground scrambled away from the area as Arawn watched on. He was impressed. In his youth, when he’d first carved a name for himself and the cult of Arawn had just begun, he’d been a warrior for hire. Cutting through battalions of humans as he needed. He’d been revered and feared in the same breath.
He also didn’t have the control that Sirona seemed to have, even in her trances. He’d told her that he would have stopped her from harming anyone she didn’t mean to harm, but he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to, cared to, or if it would be necessary.
Sirona’s innate goodness seemed to guide her even when she wasn’t in control. Even now, as she was cutting through the bandits, she hadn’t turned to look back at the cage of women or even the woman who had pulled herself from beneath the decapitated body and scrambled back across the little camp.
In Sirona’s position, Arawn wasn’t sure if any of the women would have survived.
The situation was different, he was sure. Sirona was a woman. The instinctual, visceral terror of being raped by a man was closer for her. He rounded the camp, heading towards the cage, and gestured the lock open. They cowered away from him as he forced the shackles to vanish from around their wrists and folded his legs into the air to hover and watch Sirona finish slaughtering the bandits.
When the last bandit fell dead, she turned around, her eyes cold as she looked at him.
Her eyes were clear and looking at him and Arawn smiled, impressed by her control.
“Perhaps, I was wrong.”
Sirona sheathed her sword.
“It isn’t a lack of comfort, but a cause.”
Sirona looked around the bodies, her eyes were listless.
“I… meant to kill them.”
“So it seems.”
Sirona walked across the camp towards the woman who stared up at her in awe.
“Are you alright?” Sirona asked, “Can you stand?”
The woman sniffled and nodded. Her eyes welled with tears before she threw herself at Sirona, wrapping her arms around her legs and sobbing.
“Thank you! Oh, thank you!”
Sirona placed a hand on her head, stroking her hair, “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
She looked to the other women, “You’re all safe now. We’ll take you to the nearest town.”
The woman continued to cry and Sirona held her close until she had tired herself out. Arawn gestured across the fallen bodies, relieving the corpses of whatever money they had and their cloaks for the women to wear. There weren’t enough for each woman, but he duplicated them and made them drift over to them. Sirona helped them out of the cage and sat them nearby, murmuring to herself about food and rest.
Within the hour, they’d been fed from whatever rations Sirona had found in the camp and were sleeping peacefully.
“You did well,” Arawn said.
Sirona poked the fire, “Her name was Yvonne.”
Arawn frowned looking at her as she continued to stare at the fire.
“She was… no older than I am now when she was killed.” Her jaw trembled, “I forgot her until we saw them.”
Arawn moved closer, placing an arm around her shoulder. He could feel the grief pouring off of her and rubbed her shoulder.
“I am certain that she would not begrudge you that. You were… a child I presume.”
Sirona nodded. Arawn nodded. There were things he had seen in his youth that he’d rather forget.
“With time, most things fade, but they are not forgotten. Don’t feel guilty about it.”
“She didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“Most people don’t.”
Sirona sniffed and turned into his shoulder, clinging to him. He was startled by her softness and her trust in him and pulled her close, comforting her. He didn’t remember comforting anyone else in this fashion.
Perhaps once, long ago, he had held a young woman close to him as she wept, but he couldn’t remember her face or what she smelled like. Sirona was warm and smelled a bit like jasmine.
He wondered if perhaps, one day, he would be looking back through his memories and not remember her either. The thought pained him and he withdrew from the feeling, not wanting to examine it any closer.
“Get some rest,” he told her. “I’ll stand guard.”
Sirona’s breathing had already begun to even out. He summoned a blanket to wrap around her and kept watch over the little camp until all he could see were stars in the sky.

In the morning, the women woke up with a startle. Their terror sent them into little panicked whimpers for a moment before they noticed Arawn and Sirona. Sirona was still fast asleep against Arawn’s chest and he seemed relaxed, simply holding her.
“E-Excuse me?” One of the women said, “D-Do you know where we are?”
“At the base of the eastern mountains. Near the valley.”
The woman turned to the others and they whispered a bit to themselves. There was a bit of excitement in their voices, but they still seemed nervous.
“There’s water nearby, a stream if you’d like to wash up. I’m sure she’ll be awake soon enough.”
They bristled and shook their heads.
“I’d rather not go alone.”
Their voices were haunted and Arawn assumed that they had been snatched from a river near their homes. He sighed, looking down at Sirona, before tucking the blanket around her and leaning her against the rock.
“I will go with you if it would make you more comfortable.”
He didn’t want to, but the way the women’s eyes lit up with hope, he knew that this bit of kindness would go a long way with Sirona.
“That would be very kind of you…”
“Arawn.”
Their eyes bulged and they looked between him and Sirona in shock before standing and walking away from the camp. The stream wasn’t so far that he couldn’t keep an eye on the women and give them their privacy and keep an eye on Sirona.
Slowly, she stirred awake just as the women slipped into the river. She rubbed her eyes and looked at him with a brilliant, sleepy smile.
“Hi,” she said as she stood and set the blanket aside. She looked around, “Where did they go?”
Arawn nodded back towards the river, “Bathing if you’d like to join them.”
Sirona nodded walking past Arawn and wondering if he’d been watching them for pleasure or their safety. They all froze as she broke through the tree line, but relaxed upon seeing her.
“Thank you for saving us, goddess.”
Her face flushed at the address, “Please, just call me Sirona. It sounds so… pretentious.”
Another one of them laughed, “You walk alongside Arawn and have… swayed him to intervene.”
Had she really swayed Arawn? It didn’t ever feel like it, but she supposed to them it did.
Sirona shrugged, “It turns out that he isn’t so hard to convince.”
Another woman laughed, “So says a goddess of protection and vengeance.”
That struck a chord in her and she smiled. Of all the monikers she seemed to be picking up, that one felt right somehow. She dipped her hands in the cool water to wash her face as the women continued to wash as best they could before dressing again.
They ate breakfast from the stores they’d found and packed up everything of use from the camp before Arawn led them through the forest.
“I… can’t wait to go home,” one of them said whimsically. “My mother’s stew is the best!”
Sirona chuckled as they continued to talk. One of the women didn’t seem able to contribute to the conversation, but the rest seemed ecstatic. She walked ahead to fall into step with Arawn.
“Thank you,” she said. “For watching over them.”
Arawn smirked, “I am capable of kindness.”
She nodded, “I know.”
A flush darkened his cheeks as he forced some brush aside and revealed the edge of a small village.
One of the women squealed with excitement and they hall hurried forward, even the one who hadn’t been involved in the conversation.
Someone at the edge of town looked up.
“Is that Dina? Dina!”
Sirona watched the people congregate, welcoming the women home, and grinned.
“Please,” one of the men said, offering a basket of food. “It is but a small offering, but I am so very grateful, goddess.”
She smiled, taking the basket, “Please, just call me Sirona.”