A Mapwalker Trilogy

Chapter 5-2

Mila knew that where there was one Feral, more would follow. When these wild Borderlanders crossed over, they usually sent a scout first. If the scout didn't come back, well, there were plenty more where he came from. This one was young, only a teenager, younger than she was.

She stood back in the shadow of the lock gate, waiting, watching. As far as she knew, the warlord's men had never come through this far away from The Circus and that in itself was worrying. If they were finding new places, new rips in the border, then they could come through anywhere. Perhaps even further out in the countryside where no one was watching. Ministry protocol dictated that she should call this in right now and wait for backup, but the canal was her home, and she would not allow the Borderlanders through here.

The man swam towards the bank.

Mila knelt down and put her hand in the canal water at the side of the lock, feeling the cool flow touch her skin. It rippled through her body as her connection with the water expanded.

The man had almost reached the side. She had to stop him.

As his fingers touched the bank, Mila slipped into the water without so much as a ripple in her wake. She became one with the liquid, sliding sinuously through the darkness of the canal, her senses attuned to the invader. Slipping past him, Mila grabbed his leg, tugging him away from the lip of the canal before he could get out. His muffled cry came from above as she pulled him underwater, slipped on past, turned with an undulation and then came back for him.

In these moments, Mila felt like any hunter. The thrill of the chase, the knowledge of strength. The pity she might have felt for the Feral subsided under a need to protect what was hers. And this canal was hers, no doubt about it.

The man flailed in the water, trying to paddle to the shore again, his breath ragged. Mila slid past again and pulled him down under the water. He wrestled with her, his fingers sliding over her skin smooth as silk, part of the water.

She propelled herself down, dragging him towards a patch of weed that grew at the edge of the canal, taking him down. He kicked and flailed harder now, desperate for air. Silt rose around them in a cloud as Mila thrust him to the bottom. She took a handful of weed and wound it around his neck, anchoring him to the canal floor. His mouth pursed, desperate not to breathe and then he couldn't help himself. As she tightened the weed around his neck, he opened his mouth. The water poured in. He kicked and fought, eyes bulging.

Mila wondered if there was someone waiting for him back in the Borderlands. What would they do when he didn't return? She hovered in the water above him, watched his eyes go blank, his body go limp.

He wasn't her first, and he wouldn't be her last. Mila would do this again and again to stop them coming through. She thought of the allotments above, the flowers and the hedgerows of the canal as she tightened the weed around the man's neck to keep his body down. The Ministry team would come and sort out the remains later. Ferals from the Borderland had no identity on this side, so it wasn't murder. It was defense.

This was war.

Mila slipped away and pulled herself out of the canal. She shook the water off like an animal as Zippy ran to her side, jumping up and barking in excitement. "It's okay, boy. We're alright."

She sat down on the bank to catch her breath, Zippy nuzzling into her lap. Mila watched the water go by as a heron fished in the quiet shade of a willow tree.