An Anima Journey [Part 7]

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Part 7

  Praza winds a bit of her yarn around her hand. The old man twirls his blade. "Come on, you have to strike at some point." Praza twists the yarn into a slip knot. The old man sees the yarn shimmer and turn transparent. "What kind of special yarn is that?"


  "It is a yarn that weaves death." Praza snarls as she leaps onto the man. They begin a savage dance of blade and blow as the old man attempts to get the best of her. What he finds instead is indestructible yarn. No matter how many times he tried to cut the yarn with his dagger, the yarn seemed to mold around the blade instead. What was this yarn made of? He feels it wrap around one wrist, then another, then both of his ankles. Praza yanks on the yarn. It cinches together and forces the old man to the ground. He moans in pain and feels the yarn pull him onto his back. He stares into her eyes. He must feel the spirit behind her glare as she ties him to a tree and goes to get her scythe. She hears him ask, "You are not going to leave me here, are you?" She chuckles to herself and grabs her scythe and checks its blade. She comes back toward the tree to see the man sitting with a bundle of yarn tied to the tree. He stares at her. Praza's mind races to the logical ways he could have escaped. She is so focused on her thoughts until he is in her face. The smell of his breath his atrocious to her. "You shouldn't have a weapon out here, young lady." He feels closer, almost touching noses with her. "I prefer my breakfast hot, not cold."

  

  Praza jolts suddenly. She covers her eyes from the flecks of sunlight dancing through the trees. Geralt turns to her. She looks shaken and sweaty.

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