Sabit ran through the forest, the underbrush scratching at her long, brown legs and catching in the winding leather straps of her sandals. Pushing through the thick foliage, she dodged low-hanging tree branches and dashed over gnarled tree roots. Spear butt braced against the now-sharply slanting ground, the warrior woman scrambled down a steep incline toward the rushing sound of a river below.
Over the river’s churning noise rose the voices of several men, urging one another to their tasks. Sabit sped her descent through the thick flora of the river bank, even as the slope offered disaster with every step. The spear woman leaped from rocky outcropping to patch of slick mud to twisted tree root with the nimbleness of one born to the rough places of the world.
Bounding from the underbrush onto the very edge of the river, Sabit saw three men paddling a rough boat—barely more than a raft—into the center of the river’s channel. Their tattered clothes and and sun-leathered skin stretching taut over ropey muscles spoke of a hardscrabble life.
The raft was a full four fathoms from shore when Sabit spotted it. With no overhanging tree nearby to aid her pursuit, the spear woman plunged into the chill water and was soon waist-deep. Still several fathoms from the raft, Sabit pulled back her spear arm and took aim at her quarry.
The current spun the raft slightly. Sabit could target no more than two of the bandits with her spear. And then what? The third would make off with her spear as well as her precious silver necklace.
Eyes locked with a hate-filled glare at the receding raft, Sabit lowered her spear.
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Wayfarings of Sabit: Pursuit is copyright (c) 2017 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/