Macbeth: A Fictional Narrative
“Just let the pheasants get bloody a bit.” “Golly, you get mouthy when you are away from home.” No she was nervous and wanted to run away. She was excited about winning Donovan. No she will not be setting that high of a goal. She was excited about getting out of her life one way or another. They walked until the sun was high, heading west. “How far to the sea?” Tizbeth asked. “Four more days, but our journey isn’t nearly as far.” Tizbeth shuffled along for a few minutes. “Have you ever seen the sea?” Syd smiled and Tizbeth thought it may have been the first genuine smiles she had seen. “Oh yes, I have made the most of my exile. Once I go home, I will never leave again.” “The all powerful queen.” “Or dead. People died in war.”
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Tizbeth was antsy to move on but Syd made her stop. “It will be a long afternoon.” Tizbeth slumped down and an arrow struck the ground where she had been standing. She swore and rolled away. Syd, on her feet, created a protection bubble. “Get in you fool,” she hissed at Tizbeth. “I can‘t do this without you.” Tizbeth scrabbled towards the protection, not quite making it to her feet. It didn’t matter. Before she reached safety, someone had her by the hair and a knife to her throat. “Why don’t you drop that protection spell or your friend is going to have a bad day Sofria.” The lowland elves’ accent graded on Tizbeth’s ears. She struggled as Syd glared. She felt the blade nick and black blood ooze. Syd took down the protection spell with an exasperated falling of her hands. The elf laughed and threw Tizbeth to Syd’s feet. “If you will be as kind as to dump out your bags,” a second elf ordered, bow strung. Tizbeth reached into her bag. “No…no…no. Dump it out.” Tizbeth did as she was told. The elf that had held a knife to her throat came and picked up the food and the bits of magic she carried. “And you?” the second one directed Syd. She shrugged. “You are carrying nothing.” “I need no
Tizbeth was antsy to move on but Syd made her stop. “It will be a long afternoon.” Tizbeth slumped down and an arrow struck the ground where she had been standing. She swore and rolled away. Syd, on her feet, created a protection bubble. “Get in you fool,” she hissed at Tizbeth. “I can‘t do this without you.” Tizbeth scrabbled towards the protection, not quite making it to her feet. It didn’t matter. Before she reached safety, someone had her by the hair and a knife to her throat. “Why don’t you drop that protection spell or your friend is going to have a bad day Sofria.” The lowland elves’ accent graded on Tizbeth’s ears. She struggled as Syd glared. She felt the blade nick and black blood ooze. Syd took down the protection spell with an exasperated falling of her hands. The elf laughed and threw Tizbeth to Syd’s feet. “If you will be as kind as to dump out your bags,” a second elf ordered, bow strung. Tizbeth reached into her bag. “No…no…no. Dump it out.” Tizbeth did as she was told. The elf that had held a knife to her throat came and picked up the food and the bits of magic she carried. “And you?” the second one directed Syd. She shrugged. “You are carrying nothing.” “I need no