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Red is all she sees as she races through the worn paths of the mountainside. Leaves and pebbles kicked up in her wake.
The smell of smoke weighs heavier and heavier in the air. Against her ribcage is a pounding unlike any she's felt before. Her stomach dropping as she approaches the sounds of screaming, and yelling, and crying-
Fear. This is fear.
She has felt fear before. As a trainee she felt it often. Over time its edges have dulled but now it strikes right through her, every part of her feels like a gaping wound.
There might be no point in going back for the child. It may be too late-
She shakes her head. No. There are people trying to run past her out of the village perimeter. Some make it into the tree line and others are cut down or captured along the way. A few bandits spare her a glance and yell at eachother, at her but she barely hears them. Scanning the faces for Clare.
It had definitely been her slaying of the yoma that brought this on. An absurd part of her almost wants to laugh at the irony. There is never kindness without a price, she should've known better. She should have been selfish and walked away holding Clare's hand.
Her steps slow in the smoky orange haze. How will she find her in this mess? What if they've already-
"Kill the men! Take the women! Rob them of every scrap they've got." The bandits leader starts calling out from atop his horse.
Chaos swirls around her as the bandits maim, kill, plunder. Humans of either side toiling desperately to shed blood for vengeance and power. It'd be so so easy for her to rip them down to viscera and grind the bloody bits into the earth under her heel like the thousands of Yoma she has slain. She's a monster. These humans are monsters.
"Boys! Look who we have here," The bandit leader leads his horse up in front of her, his men gather along the sides with jeers. "What a coincidence. Now that the Yoma's been destroyed it looks like you're no longer needed!"
A few of his men chuckle and cheer before he continues, "I'm sure you know better than to get involved in human affairs."
Teresa has never been one to dwell on her situation. Mourning her own loss of humanity is counterproductive. Fighting back against the inevitable is pointless. The world is inherently unfair and cruel. For all of its creatures, for all of its monsters, pain is a part of life.
But hell, if she couldn't have one thing. She hasn't held unto anything resembling hope in years. Hope for a future, even if it wasn't her own. I just want Clare to be okay. She dares to think and yearn that somehow the child is alive, that she can help her.
"So what is it that brings you before us, Claymore? Sightseeing?" The bandit continues to mock, though she barely hears his pointless dribble. The rise and fall of her chest is near still, frozen in place. What can she do but quell her rage and try not to kill them right away. Her eyes start darting around the dark corners and bloody streets, just barely focused on the men in front of her when she sees him.
Out of an alleyway just up ahead a bandit, the one whose hand she had cut off in the forest, stepping unto the road. His bandages bloody and eyes shining with malice. Behind him he drags a limp girl by her light brown hair-
Clare.
Suddenly she can feel every heart beat. The smell of smoke, sweat, blood, death is clear with each measured breath. Yoma are apex predators. Built perfect for the hunt. Humans fall too short behind, but are still notable. She feels every bit of innate hunting instinct from both sides of her. Never has Teresa felt such clarity in her life. The control she spent her whole life building gives without a fight.
Yoki fills her limbs without her calling upon it, thrumming power responding to her loudest thoughts. Rage is a quiet thing, but wrath screams within her.
Kill them all.