My fear kind of wash off me.
Well not fully.
But like it does, slowly but surely. It's almost like a meditative effect. The faster we go toward our ennemy.
The less I think. Well, maybe that's not the best way to say it.
The longer I run, the longer I jog with malfoy. My joints loose and carrying me forward like going to fight was a natural instinct engrained deep in me. Well. The more it all just wash off.
Doubts.
Fear.
They get thrown away. They get muted, weaker.
I don't know if that's a good thing.
But a quick look toward the giant make me remember that it may be. Did you ever saw a fourteen feet tall thing walking toward you with an army on it's side?
No?
Well I'll tell you it's way scarier than you could imagine.
I fought hulk, we did. I give a glance at my side, malfoy isn't here anymore. But even if we did. It's just, different, that was a surprise attack. This...this is just ridiculous.
Turning my head over my shoulder I see where malfoy is actually.
Behind me, trailing me. Sword at the ready as we jog toward them.
Good he listened well.
The fear dims a little bit, still don't know if that's my emotions being muted or just bravery? More like recklessness actually.
Doing my job as the one in the lead, I slowly inch to the right, turning around the woodenguys.
We do it in a slow complete circle. I want to look over my shoulders again but I don't. I just know I'm being paranoid, I don't need reassurances.
The second the woodenguys do the same as before, all turn toward us like a bunch of dumb robots, my fears dims even more.
It slowly become a groove.
All of it.
It's kind of hypnotic really. Fighting I mean. It reassures me in some kind of fucked up way.
I just need to go forward, slam my shield like some kind of rugby player in a small woden automaton. Watch it fall and squirm. And just go back.
Sometimes I see other of those wooden guys fall, just beside me. Malfoy being hard at work.
But you know what's even more rewarding? Than this strange meditative and enjoyable state?
Planning. And oh so I love seeing how my plans works. Just perfectly.
The small wooden automaton as I thought don't get back up. One kick and they go down, their body even get in the way of the others. Making it harder for them to get closer to us.
Quickly enough, all the small ones are done. We kept turning, and turning. They are distrubuted pretty much randomly from what I've seen.
But they were two on each side, left and right.
It's agreeable to see that I'm not the only one able to follow a plan.
Malfoy, not needing any prompting followed me as we jogged a bit faster doing a big turn over them, just to catch the small ones on the left before they get swallowed by the crowd of mediums and bigs.
It's really really enjoyable to see a plan work.
The dagger in my hand is pretty tight, but for some reason, it doesn't hurt. It hurted a second ago, before I was in the fight.
Ignoring those thoughts, as if they were pathetic intrusive thoughts. I keep going.
Just going on with my plan, making sure everything is going well.
And fuck it does.
The mediums get the next treatment.
Fights are usually organics and chaotic. But against them? Against them? There isn't much randomness if at all.
Just blitz forward. Slam my shield right on their dumb little face, big plate first. See them fall like a dumbass all while I step back when one of them take a swing against me.
And of course. See malfoy blitz forward just to end them with a poke on the neck when they are down.
I don't know if they can get up.
But like I said, I won't try to know, I won't take any chances.
From what I've seen, they can push themselves a bit up. So maybe they could get back up if I let them flop around for a while?
That's an interesting thought. But overall. It's meaningless in front of my dimming nervousness, it's practically inexistant, replaced by a warmth sufficing every parts of my body.
As if I was just peeeeeerfectly warmed up. Alert. Ready to do anything.
The sand kicking up from the giant foot doesn't look that scary anymore to be honest, I barely register it.
We keep going. Running around them, trapping them. Killing every single one of them.
One by one.
Without any real struggle. It's barely a fight, just a repetitive mechanical process.
The bigs and the giant are only left. They are pretty close, we obviously jog back but like I said before.
The bigger they are. The bigger the stride length. The bigger the stride length, the more chaotic their ranks are.
That's why we needed to turn around them constantly, if we stayed forward. The big ones would reach us first after a small moment.
I give a glance at malfoy, he give it back and slowly jog forward as I do the opposite.
Bait time.
As malfoy take his first steps around, like usual, he jog forward to get their attention. Just like before. Everything was well done. Exactly like before.
Problem.
Before there wasn't a giant.
Problem. Giants have long arms. That's why, we're both surprised that when malfoy dodge a big swing of one of the big one. The giant swing too.
When he's behind two of the big ones?
Malfoy obviously see this and get the fuck off, but it's too late.
He flies.
Not malfoy, no, not malfoy.
They fly.
Who?
You mean what.
I think that's what you meant.
Because this scene is pure devastation. The wind move. The sand move, exploding as if an entire fucking bomb just exploded under. I can feel the wind on my face from a mile away, the strands of my hair getting off my tightly locked hair with just that. Just, sheer pressure.
Then they fly too.
The big ones.
And the only thing that make me snap out of this daze of devastation is the sound of a 7 foot tall humanoid monster, made entirely of wood. And probably weightier than a full ton slamming just beside me in an explosion of sand.
...
Ah.
I turn my head. Very slowly. My heart throbbing in my chest. It's a mess of broken shard and limbs, twitching and flopping in the sand. One blue vein. The one on it's arm is broken and bleeding everywhere, covering it's own body and the sand under it.
I look forward. In my peripheral vision I can see malfoy, looking just as shocked as me.
Just as shocked at seeing two car sized monstruisity being thrown in the air like they are fucking lego toy.
I look forward. I can see it, the giant. One big arm extended in the sand, hips way too high, legs crossed in horrible coordination.
Shaky.
Wavering.
Horrible balance.
It's horrible, it's dumb, it's irregular.
It's the kind of thing I'll think of again and again in my sleep, probably tonight actually.
But I just can't help it.
I just saw one of the most terrifying feats of strength in my life. It makes me remember the kind of ridiculous mix of awe and fear that flood my body, slowly, like a slow cancer when I watch weapons of war.
Rockets, being disarmed by others rockets.
Marvels of engineering, ridiculously big metal monstrosities capable of running over buildings.
I don't know why.
But for some reason, maybe it's because of how my forearm feel like it's gonna explode, maybe it's because I'm feeling rebelious for once, or maybe it's because I'm just sick of it.
Sick of all this shit. All this shit I'm trying to avoid, kidnaping, a system, fucking dumb engineered meetings, crazy magic. Maybe it's because of mom. Maybe it's because of Father.
Maybe it's just because of this horrible feeling squirming in my belly.
Maybe it's just because I'm fucking sick of being helpless.
Little plans, clutching at every small inch of control like a starving bitch.
Maybe it's just because of it?
Maybe not.
What's sure is that I'm rushing forward.