Kicking out unwelcome guests

This is a continuation of Unwelcome Guests, Part the Third for my “More Please” tag.

The girls knew what to do. They had fought to defend their property – their home – before. Hell, they had been fighters long before they met Baram.

The trees knew what to do, but Baram didn’t think too hard about that. He let them grab the woman in the lead, while he went for the guy that was probably their tank. Shit, shit, the second bitch was a fireball-thrower; he moved the tank between him and the thin, ashen girl and kept hitting.

It was a quick fight, Jaelie and Via hitting from the walls, shooting rowan bullets and hawthorn arrows, the trees doing their share of damage, and Baram in the middle of the fight like some sort of bull in a china shop.

The bikers were fae, but they weren’t organized, and they weren’t all that good at being fae – except the ashen one he’d thought was a bitch, the fireball thrower. Baram took her down hard, broke her jaw and pinned her wrists with a hawthorn arrow.

By then, the tree had the leader and her probably-second-in-command, and everyone else except her maybe-a-seer-boy were down. He looked between the three of them, then decided sitting down with his hands on his neck was a good idea.

Baram grunted. “You okay?”

“We’re fine, boss. They’re not all that good at this.”

“No teamwork.” He toed the fireball-thrower. “This one’s interesting, though.”

“So’s the boy.”

“We’re not keeping them.”

“He might be useful.”

“Another… shit, he fainted. Okay.” He walked over to the tree and poked the leader in the stomach. Her eyes and stomach were about all that was visible… that had to hurt. “You.”

She grunted incoherently. Baram poked her again.

“You take your people and you leave. We’re keeping one – or two -”

“-as the fee for having the stupid gall to attack us,” Jaelie filled in.

The tank, who wasn’t quite dead, it seemed, spoke up. “What about our target?”

“Never here.” Baram added a kick to punctuate it. “Got it?”

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0 thoughts on “Kicking out unwelcome guests

  1. The tank, who wasn’t quite dead, it seemed, spoke up. “What about our target?” “Never here.” Baram added a kick to punctuate it. “Got it?” Their target was never here or they were never here?

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