Thom swore, throwing himself from the saddle, blinking furiously as if that would help his sudden lack of sight.
Still alive. That’s something.
Hands grabbed him roughly and he reacted by instinct, elbow driving back into the face of someone at his shoulder. An unfamiliar voice cried out and Thom was free, stumbling forward as his would-be captor stumbled back.
“Freeze or your friend dies,” another voice growled.
Thom’s mind raced, but he froze. It didn’t matter which one of them had a knife his throat or a gun to his head. He couldn’t take the risk.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Thom said carefully.
“My nose would beg to differ,” a deep voice said from behind him, muffled and pained. “I think you broke it.”
“Set him loose,” Cameron growled from somewhere to Thom’s right. “We came to talk, maybe trade, not to pick a fight.”
“Forgive us if we’re not entirely trusting of your intentions,” a woman’s voice said, silk-smooth but husky. The sound sent a strange feeling fluttering through Thom’s belly, an inexplicable shiver skittering down his spine. It wasn’t fear or desire—it was something else entirely, something he couldn’t put a name to, though he tried.
“The last bunch who showed up at our front door tried to burn us out, killed or hurt half of the people who were here.” Her voice was young, he realized, the voice of a woman of no more than thirty—somehow, instinctively, he knew that without being able to see her face.
He blinked again, eyes tearing, vision not clearing—but he could tell that it would be back soon enough, that whatever these strangers had done hadn’t rendered him sightless permanently.
Thank goodness for small favors.
He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.
“My name is Thom,” he said quietly. “And we came to be your friends. If you don’t want our friendship, though, we’re more than willing to fight. I warn you, though—when we fight? We don’t lose.”
That’s Thom. Short and to the point.
Good addition. Thanks again.