The finale of this shot story series about Folka from Nika Harper
Folka heard the yox’s long moan outside and sighed. It had a tendency to free itself from the barn and yowl, trapped in the cold. Yox are not intelligent, and this one was nearly as old a family member as herself. Her boots were conveniently by the door and she trudged into the dim night.
Though, it was not as it seemed. Immediately Folka was aware that she was weaponless as she watched her yox get dragged through the crunchy snow. There must have been three thieves, their shadows barely visible in the night, and sounds from the barn suggested more. Folka had nothing with which to attack, but that’s never stopped a lumberer from fighting. Though the preference was strategy, she had learned to be resourceful. This would not be the first time it saved her.
Without even a grunt, she ran toward the stolen animal, eyes searching for something to grab and swing. The figures had stopped shuffling away and stood ready, when—
An enormous bulk dashed into them first, bowling into the mass and leaving deep gashes in the ice-crusted snow. It was impossible to tell the ruckus from itself, all screams and growls and the yox’s wails. Folka did not slow her pace, but leapt into the fray, twisting the first arm she saw and releasing leathery reins from its grip. It was mayhem and the yox reared back, the yoke catching a brigand in the gut and Folka in the face. Her blood joined the others in the moonlight, splattering on a sword she wrenched away from the wielder, hearing the pop of his wrist breaking under her force.
The barn was [...]