CEOS WITCH

Chapter 1

The clanging of metal, someone's malicious remarks and an indescribable stench, as if I was lying in a puddle with someone's shit, excite all my refined insides, literally forcing me to open my eyes. A couple of meters away from me, crossed swords, someone's unfamiliar silhouettes flicker. Through the pain in my eyes and in my whole body, with difficulty raising my head, I noticed that a group of militant women mixed up in this medieval swarm: some in leather armor and with swords, some with daggers, and some even hand-to-hand. They mercilessly torment each other, cursing the whole wide world, and thereby, along the way, trying to prove to their opponents that they are right.

Ladies fight three on two. And the advantage is clearly not on the side of my sister and my secret admirer

"secret admirer" - the thought flashes through my head, - "I hope this shall work out for me!" But, the idea of ​​kinship that originated in the brain, at some subconscious level, triggers the internal mechanism of any owner. "Protect what you have it might not be clear today but it will" my inner self screams showering strange love feelings.

One of the attackers, having managed to take advantage of the confusion, jumps behind Sigrid, wanting to cut her throat. Something needs to be done!

Some kind of pin sticks out in my chest, piercing me through and nailing me to the ground. With such wounds do not survive. I can feel the blood bubbling, the salty goo rushing out through my nose and mouth. With my hand, I try to find at least something more or less weighty to launch into that treacherous bitch, already ready for her final blow. Unfortunately, nothing but horse feces can be grabbed by a weakened limb. Torn apart by pain and disgust, gritting my teeth, with the last of my strength, I threw a hastily crumpled ball of horse shit.

Lucky, the throw is right on target - right in the face of the attacker! She grimaces disgustingly and steps back, trying to clear her eyes and mouth from the crap that clogged them. Belatedly noticing the retreating woman behind him, Sigrid in a hurry, backhand delivers a quick blow, wanting to cut off the head of the insidious bitch with one movement. Alas, the short one-and-a-half only casually touched the hand of the raider who was covering her face. Crimson blood splattered in all directions. Like a pendulum of living flesh, the incompletely torn off brush hung on the skin under the heart-rending cries of the wounded.

This picture causes indescribable delight in my heart. The cry of the enemy, fear and agony, as well as a sense of greatness on the face of my Sigrid, who, having thrown "not finished off", with fury drives her first opponent into the dirt - this was an amazing spectacle, for which the "past" I would not be stingy to give and own life.

“When could such a “finished” person have a lover?” It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Blood bubbled from his mouth and pierced chest. The body is dumb. And there was definitely a pile of horses under me. No sterility, judging by the landscapes and outfits, in the Middle Ages. Which means I'm 100% dead. I don't know how I ended up here, but...its a good thing met someone whom when i see her my heart melts a little bit.

…How I would like to stay in this world a little longer. See more battles, other people's not suffering and no blood. Thoughts about the latter force the cold that has rolled over the body to recede. If I close my eyes again, then this will be my next end.

– What are you waiting for, Ilva?! - A rough female voice came with a frightened cry, - Help me!

Taking advantage of the fact that the older sister was distracted by me - a wounded brother, the robbers, taking their friend and tucking their tails, immediately screwed up.