#maybe he even met some hunters/huntresses passing through his village

[moltensmusings]

I truly think them making Jaune supposedly from a line of heroes was a mistake. I'll need to see how his family is if they show them in seasons 6-9 but for now what we know doesn't track.

A common trend amoung RWBY characters is the writers almost needing to have them come from somewhere important and it's so strange.

Blake suddenly being the daughter of the man who founded the white fang despite her parents never being mentioned/it almost being implied that she was orphaned or from a low class family. Pyrrha, Weiss, Ruby, and Yang get set up and we know they come from importance. And yes in Volume 1 Jaune does come from somewhere.

But out of the main characters that matter only Ren and Nora really get to escape from any of their family mattering and I don't know if it stays that way in later seasons.

Jaune himself though would very much benefit from just being a nobody from a village where technology was maybe a bit behind the times. He knows nothing about aura or semblances, and if his family had important warriors, they should've had that knowledge to pass down. Not to mention him getting to be leader of JNPR when everything in the show says Pyrrha was simply the better choice. Him sneaking into beacon gets dropped so quickly as a plot point that it doesn't even seem matter.

I dont hate Jaune but his backstory really doesn't work and there are simple fixes they could've taken that unfortunately they didn't.

[babineni]

Witch, Hunter, Vampire - Part 1 of 2

I didn’t have anything better to do on Halloween and I’m slow so yeah

A witchy vampire-y AU for Team Gilded Vale, featuring an adventurous monster-hunter who takes on a job that proves to be more complicated than she expected when both her target and the witch meant to help her in her quest turn out to be very different than she was lead to believe.

Roughly 6k words

The wind was howling, the rain violently struck down with each cold drop of water. It seemed the elements themselves conspired to make the already dark forest impossible to tread. The huntress sighed as she continued forward. Dull pain paralyzed her arm while a sharp one stung into her shin with each step. But she kept moving. She had no choice. Gaura rid herself of her choices the moment she set foot in that forest.

It has been two days, since the last time she saw people. They were from a small village that has been plagued by the presence of a vampire living in the woods nearby. The huntress heard about the place in passing: the rumors suggested that the mayor was desperate to find a capable fighter who could feat the fiend and that he was willing to pay good coin for the deed. Gaura didn't care about the money, but a reward that big hinted at an adventure of the same measure. And soon, she found herself in a heated, if hushed, conversation with the mayor.

'I'm sorry, no one knows much about the beast. The ones who used to are all dead.'

The mayor was a fairly young man, or at least the prominent freckles covering those bits of his face that was not covered by beard made him appear young. Nevertheless, he uttered every word with earnestness and carried himself with dignity. But the huntress saw right through him. There was barely contained fury in his eyes.

'And yet I get the feeling, this matter is personal to you,' Gaura said. 'Whom did you lose to it?'

The mayor blinked in surprise. The expression made him look almost like a scared child.

'No one, I mean... Not directly,' as he tried to find the right words a pair of children ran up to him. One demanded he picked him up while the other hid behind his leg at the sight of the huntress. The mayor laughed and patted the children's heads. 'Papa needs to talk to this nice lady about work, then we'll find some pigs to chase.' The promise prompted a squeal from the children as they ran off. Then as the mayor turned back to Gaura, his eyes reflected fear and sorrow. 'My mother encountered the creature. I don't know what he did to her but it haunted her to her dying day. I want to see him pay for it.'

'What would you consider proper punishment?'

'Dunno, don't care. I just want his head or his heart. I leave the rest to you.'

Gaura gave him a resolute nod. 'Is there anything else you can tell me?'

The mayor stroke his beard, lost in thought. 'Mother used to tell me these... tales about a witch living deep within the forest. Or was it a sorcerer? Doesn't matter,' he shook his head. 'If the stories are true... and you can find them, they might be able to help.'

'That's a lot of ifs,' the huntress sighed.

But such uncertainties never stopped her before. Although in that moment, in the depths of the wilderness, she felt that maybe it should have. Her legs seemed to have moved on their own at that point, trudging ankle deep through the mud. It seemed that with each step, the storm grew worse and the darkness deepened. Gaura could no longer rely on her senses. All the sounds were drowned out by the winds, all sights were clouded in shadows, all smelled like water and dirt and she was so cold she felt nothing else she touched. After a while, even time seemed to have ceased to exist. It was a monotonous march that seemed to have lead nowhere.

And then Gaura tripped in a branch.

The huntress reached out to break her fall, sending sharp pain through her injured limbs upon impact. The sensation was overwhelming just for a moment and Gaura was almost convinced that even the storm stopped when she fell.

Only to realize she was right when she looked up.

Gaura shook her head as if she could shake whatever spell took hold of her mind out of herself. Because she was certain that what she saw couldn't have been real. An old, massive manor reached toward the gloomy sky above. The huntress saw no sign of it on the way there, however, and when she looked back at the path she was taking, she saw nothing of the storm she waded her way through, only the tracks that she left in the mud. Gaura pushed herself up and limped to the entrance. She had to roll her shoulders a few times to muster the strength she needed to bang on the massive doors.

The moments seemed to have stretched into infinity while the huntress waited. She was just about to turn and leave when the door opened slightly and let light stream out right in her face.

The man in the door did not hesitate: a small orb of fire formed in his palm as he stepped closer to examine Gaura.  Long, dark hair flowed down his shoulders and piercing blue eyes peered into hers, his features were sharp but his skin looked soft - it was a combination that the huntress would have adored as it was due, had her mind not gone into a haze of exhaustion after her journey.

'Fine evening to you... friend,' she tried smiling but it looked little more than a pained grimace. 'If I may ask... I need some help.'

The man pondered her words for a short while. Then he closed his fist around the blazing orb. When he opened his palm again a small ball of light was in its place.

'How fortunate, you chose to show some manners,' he said as he turned his attention to Gaura's injuries. He stepped to her side and offered his arm. 'May I?' He asked. To his surprise the huntress flung her healthy arm around his shoulder, then once his initial shock wore off, he reached for her waist in return.

The man guided the huntress inside, to a study filled with different herbs - both for medicines and poisons. He found a stool for her to sit on and stepped away with an apologetic look on his face.

'I will need a moment of your patience,' he said, 'I need to get a few more things before I can see to your aid. Just... don't touch anything in the meantime.'

He did not need to ask twice. Surrounded by the walls of the manor, Gaura felt strangely safe. She could have just fallen asleep right there on the stool. Just as she was drifting off, the man returned with a stack of books and someone else following behind who carried a couldron filled to brim with steaming water.

'I haven't had the chance to introduce myself: my name is Aloth. This is Edér,' he gestured at himself then at his companion.

'Real pleased to meet you,' unlike Aloth, Edér sounded like he was from the village nearby. With his bulky frame and straw colored hair, he could have fit right in. However, there was still something about him that sent a shiver down the huntress' spine. Maybe it was the suspicion in his eyes even as he flashed a friendly half-smile at her. Or maybe it was the way he carried the  water. Not a single drop left the couldron as he put it down beside her, in fact the surface of the water was almost too perfectly still.

'I'm Gaura. Adventurer and monster-hunter. In case, you're looking to hire,' the huntress said jokingly but she also kept a keen eye on the pair for any telling reactions.

'Thanks, but we got things covered,' Edér replied. ' The storm takes care of most things around here and we can handle the rest.'

'The storm? You almost sound like you are responsible for it.'

'It... is a long story,' Aloth approached the huntress and carefully started to remove her scratched through armor, leaving only her shirt on for discretion's sake. 'And it is one that does not concern our guests. No matter how polite or... friendly they are.' His gaze met hers for a moment and that alone was enough for her momentary discomfort to disappear. 'What is of concern, however, is your reason for being here.'

'Yeah, most folks don't come out here unless they're looking for trouble,' Edér added.

'And if I am looking for trouble?' Gaura looked at Edér, but he merely shrugged.

'You won't find much of that here.'

'Indeed, the wilderness around this place is much more perilous than what you'd find in here. Well... as long as you keep acting on your best behaviour, that is.'  Aloth commented as he pulled away the torn, bloodied cloth covering Gaura's shoulder and examined her wounds. 'Are those... bitemarks?'

'Uhm... yes, I got into a bit of a fight with a-'

'A bear,' Edér interrupted the huntress as leaned in, taking a closer look at her shoulder, 'a real big one at that too.'

'Yeah, well, whatever it was, it's dead now. I think. I hope. I left my sword in its side,' Gaura hissed as Aloth pressed a wet washcloth against her wound.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'm not quite as practiced at healing as I'd like to be.'

'Me neither, so reckon I'd be better off checking on that bear. They usually don't attack like that unless there are cubs around,' Edér gave Gaura a wink. An excited smile lit up his face and she couldn't help but smile back at him. 'Gonna keep an eye out for your sword too.' Just as he turned to leave, however, Aloth grabbed his wrist.

'Not so fast. She was limping when we came in, check her leg while I make the ointment, will you?'

Edér deflated. He gave Aloth way who picked up one of the books he brought, and started collecting herbs grown in the room. Edér then awkwardly knelt before Gaura.

'I mean no disrespect...'

'I know, go ahead,' Gaura stretched her injured leg towards him. He hesitantly took it in his large, meaty hands, but even his cautious touch felt like steel clamps closing around her. He took off her mud covered boot and flinched at the sight of her foot.

'You dislocated your ankle. You might wanna find something to bite on,' Edér held her leg and tried to ready himself to put her joints back in place. The huntress got the impression that the act would hurt him as much as it would her.

'I can handle it,' she answered as she dug her fingers in the stool under her. Then she gave him a nod which was answered by a horrible snap and a moment of overwhelming pain.

'Sorry,' Edér apologized through gritted teeth, 'told you I wasn't any good at this.'

'You did fine,' Gaura didn't see Aloth approaching, only his hand being placed on Edér's shoulder. 'I'll take it from here. You can check on those bears now, if you'd like.'

The two of them quickly and seamlessly switched places. Aloth busied himself with applying an ointment on the huntress' leg that eased Gaura's pain and rejuvenated her almost immediately. She was almost convinced she was no longer hurt. Only Edér's sympathetic gaze reminded her of her predicament. He gave her one last half-smile with a nod before he left.

'How do you feel?' Aloth asked as he put the huntress' ankle in splints.

'Good as new,' a grateful smile tugged at her lips. 'Thank you.'

Aloth returned the smile. 'Don't thank me just yet. According to my tomes, this mixture only eases your pain, you are far from healed yet. Whatever it is you're after, it will have to wait,' he explained as stood up and started applying the same ointment on her shoulder.

Gaura didn't reply. If her suspicions were correct, she already found both her prey and the one who was meant to aid in her mission. And if her suspicions were correct, she was alone against both of them. The thought of it formed a knot in her belly, but her tension didn't stem from fear, but from guilt. Aloth and Edér were... not what she imagined facing when she set out on her journey and she didn't know how she could fight them - let alone slay them - with a clean conscience.

'I was hired to hunt a vampire,' she said eventually. 'My contractor told me of a witch living in these woods who could tell me of the creature,' she looked at Aloth, waiting for a reaction, but he merely continued treating her quietly. 'That would be you, I take it.'

Aloth chuckled nervously. 'I imagine, I must be very different from what you've expected.'

'That you are,' Gaura allowed her gaze to wander along his features and to enjoy the soft touch of his slender fingers, 'but it is a pleasant surprise.'

That drew another nervous laughter out of him. 'I'm... flattered,' he said as he stepped away to pick up some bandages. 'Lift your arm up, please.'

The huntress obliged. For a short while, the room was silent once again. The only sound that lingered in the air was the soft noise of the bandages brushing against Gaura's skin. Normally she would have found it pleasant or even calming. But then and there, it felt almost oppressive.

'Your contractor was right, I can tell you about the vampire,' Aloth broke the silence. His voice rang with regret. 'I created it, after all.'

Gaura's eyes widened. Aloth avoided her gaze until he finished bandaging her up, then, as he handed her armor to her, he looked at her once more with eyes that only reflected guilt. The intesity of it brought her out of her shock. She knew that some of the oldest vampires were created through magic, but she hasn't heard of such a beast in a long time. As far as she knew only those vampires remained who were turned by the hands - and teeth - of other vampires.

'Sorry, I just... didn't realize...'

'That such magics are still practiced? They're not, but the knowledge of them still exists, although they're nothing more than lore now, pieces of our dark history.' Aloth crossed his arms. The gesture made him look small and uncomfortable. 'If one has the power, the willingness, and the... the stomach, one can still perform such a ritual.'

'I... I see,' Gaura replied uneasily. 'No offense, but you didn't strike me as... you know,' She gestured vaguely at him, unable to find a tactful way to express the dissonance between what her instincts told her and what Aloth has just said.

'Not really, but I can imagine,' the witch found a stool for himself and sat down facing the huntress. 'It was a one time occurance, I can assure you.'

'But... why would you do it?' Gaura asked quietly and leaned closer to him. Speaking of the unspeakable left her with an unreasonable sense of anxiety. There was no one listening, after all.

Aloth let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. 'Out of a misguided sense of generosity.' He leaned forward as well and clenched his hands together. He kept his eyes fixed on the weave his fingers formed as if the threads he saw in them could be followed to his past. 'You must understand: those were... turbulent times. I assume you passed by the village by the edge of the forest. Imagine that place being ravaged by one scourge after the other. Raiders, floods, diseases, famine... There was not a single family that hasn't lost a member.' He raised his gaze at Gaura's face. His eyes pleaded for understanding. 'And then one day a couple showed up at my doorstep, like you did today. They asked if I could... use my magic to make sure that they would never lose one another, that not even death could force them apart.'

'There was no other way than vampirism?'

'There were, but those options were just as bad, believe me. Regardless, they agreed to go through with it.'

'Wait, both of them?' Gaura straightened up as a terrible thought formed in her head.

'Yes, but only one of them completed the ritual,' Aloth sighed and let his head hang in shame. Regardless, Gaura felt relieved. 'I... I was not confident enough in my skills to try turning them both at the same time. And I foolishly allowed that girl to watch... I didn't realize how monstrous the ritual would be based on the texts alone. The memory of it haunts me to this day, I can only imagine what it might have done to that poor girl's mind.'

Something about Aloth's words was familiar. The huntress' felt like she could tell exactly what happened to the girl in the story if she just listened to her instincts.

'When exactly did this happen?' She asked, probing for an answer that supported her idea.

Aloth rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 'Time is rather difficult to keep track of here.'

'Has it been long enough for a generation to grow up?'

'Yes, I believe so, maybe even longer,' he said. 'Why do you ask?' The trail of his thoughts were derailed only to the slightest degree and yet, that alone was enough to have him relax.

'I'm just curious,' Gaura shrugged. Aloth's lips curled up faintly and shyly. 'The better question is:' she continued, 'why have you told me all this? This all seems rather... personal.'

For a short while, there was only contemplative silence.

'Out of a sense of generosity,' Aloth said eventually. 'Please, prove it that I'm not misguided this time. Show the same generosity when the time comes.'

'You've certainly convinced me of a... few things,' she replied. With every moment she spent in that manor, and in the company of its residents, the huntress felt less and less certain what she'll do when she got her hands on her target. The more she knew the more her conscience was burdened.

'Regardless,' Aloth broke her line of thought, 'you are not in the state of hunting anyone.' He stood up and offered his hand. 'You need rest and sleeping on your experiences could never hurt, could it?'

'Now that is generous,' Gaura said as she somewhat hesitantly took his offer. 'Does this extend to the duration of my recovery?'

'Of course, these woods are far too dangerous to tread and I would rather not tempt fate by letting you go in a state worse than perfect health,' Aloth stepped to her side and supported her by her waist as he did earlier.

Aloth guided the huntress to a stairway. 'I'm really sorry about this,' he said as he helped her up those stairs. 'The good news is that we only need to climb to the first floor, where I live. Edér lives on the second and he only cleans the rooms he uses. He never takes guests into consideration.'

'Do you get a lot of guests?'

He didn't answer at first, only frowned which turned into a slight pout. 'No,' he said, prompting a laugh out of Gaura a moment later. He laughed with her and the huntress couldn't help but note that Aloth's laughter sounded quite pleasant when it was genuine.

They continued on in comfortable silence It wasn't long before they reached the first floor and Aloth quickly lead Gaura to the third door along a long hallway. He apologized as he let her go while he unlocked the room for her, but the huntress was preoccupied by the sight at the end of the hall: a large double door with a sigil she could've sworn she had seen before.

'It's just one of the libraries,' Aloth's voice directed her attention back to him. 'If you need me for anything, my room is right next to yours.'

'I was only looking at the decoration.'

Gaura's comment prompted Aloth to follow her gaze to the sigil. His eyes slowly filled an emotion she couldn't put her finger on: a strange, discordant mixture of regret and defiance. The clash within him only lasted for a moment and it happened without any real turmoil. He looked back at her with clarity, firmness, and conviction.

'It is my family's sigil,' he said matter of factly.

The huntress got the impression that it would have been wiser if she didn't ask anything else. 'Does anyone else live here? Aside from you and Edér, I mean.' She asked anyway.

'No, it is just the two of us. And you for a short time, if everything goes as currently planned,' he gestured towards the open door on their side.

Gaura took a step inside and was met with a room much too big for a single person. At least, in her opinion. The bed looked big enough to fit a family in it and she counted at least two sofas to lounge on - one of them was the same size as the last bed she had in an inn. The furnishing was both thorough, gilded and yet strangely understated. The room seemed to have had everything one could need and yet it still didn't feel suffocating. Still, the huntress couldn't bring herself to accept the offer of letting her stay there.

'I insist,' Aloth said. 'Let it never be said that I'm not a gracious host to those who offer their friendship on my doorstep,' he smiled with a hint of kind mischief in his eyes. 'Sweet dreams,' he said his farewell as he closed the door, leaving Gaura alone for the night.

She, however, couldn't sleep. If it wasn't for her injured leg the huntress would have paced around the room, driven by the whirlwind of her conflicting emotions. Instead, she took off her torn, muddied clothes, wrapped herself in a blanket she took from the bed and sat down by the window. She watched the storm whirling above, dancing along her feelings and guiding her thoughts. If Aloth could be believed and if her conclusions were right, the mayor was wrong about his own mother: the vampire didn't hurt her, her mind was scarred by the image of his creation. There was no reason to make him pay as her contract said, and Gaura couldn't bring herself to target Aloth instead. He only wanted to help, after all, the same way he helped her. How could she possibly betray the trust he placed in her? How was she supposed to finish the job? Who was supposed to take accountability for the mistakes of the past, if all her options felt like mistakes too?

Just as she was musing, Gaura glimpsed a figure outside, coming towards the manor with long, swift strides. The huntress rushed to the stairway as fast as she could with her leg in splints. Luckily she got there just as Edér was about to pass by her floor. He made a poor attempt at feigning surprise when he reached her, then he switched to a kind, playful smile instead which Gaura would have found endearing, had she also not noticed a small splash blood drying on his beard.

'Got your sword,' Edér said and he was about to offer the blade when he realized her hands were full with the blanket covering her. 'Uh... Guess I'll hold on to it for now.'

'Did you find your bear cubs?'

'Nah,' an intense sense of disappointment washed over him. 'Turns out, your bear wasn't a bear. Only had the snout of one. Small miracle you managed to get away from that... thing alive.'

A deep, bitter chuckle bubbled up from Gaura. 'If you could call blind stabbing that. Did I at least kill it like I thought I did?'

'Mostly. It was gonna die for sure, but it still had a few hours left. If I didn't show up that is,' he winked at the huntress. 'Reckon it's my lucky day, I was getting a bit thirsty.' Edér's smile disappeared. He gave Gaura a pointed look and when he saw her holding his gaze, he stepped closer to her. 'You figured it out by now, didn't you? What I am.'

The huntress laughed more resigbed than nervous and stepped closer to him as well.

'Even if I didn't, the blood on your beard was a bit of a giveaway.'

Edér's expression turned from cold to confused. He wiped at his beard but didn't get the blood off. The huntress reached out and scratched it off his surprisingly velvety beard. She was caught off guard by the texture - she could guess it was soft but the reality of it felt different... it felt... more. She turned her gaze to his hair, wondering if those strands would feel the same if she dug her fingers in them. Then her attention was caught by his eyes. She didn't notice how... warm they were before. As were his lips and she wondered if they were soft too, if she ran her fingers along them like she traced the blonde strands under their corner...

'You're my target,' she said breathlessly, mostly to herself as a reminder. She faltered slightly but was caught by Edér swiftly. But instead of helping her back up, he picked her up and held her close to his chest. Whatever allure affected Gaura was gone only for a moment, but she held onto her clarity as dearly and firmly as she held onto Edér's shoulder.

He, however, didn't seem to be aware of the effect he had on her. 'Which one's your room?' He asked just as casually as he cradled the huntress.

'The third one on this side,' Gaura replied after a gulp, almost too aware of his superior strength.

'Huh, figured Aloth would keep you close,' he chuckled as he made his way to the room. 'Mind opening it for me?' He inclined his chin towards the door.

Gaura obliged and Edér in turn swiftly approached her bed and placed her on it gently. He reached for the blanket covering the huntress and just before she could protest, pulled them tighter around her. He hesitated for a moment keeping his gaze fixed on Gaura, then sat down beside her.

'You know, I'd make a pretty bad host if I killed a wounded guest,' there was a hint of humor in Edér's voice as he spoke, he never let go of Gaura's gaze but there was no threat or agression in his eyes. 'And you'd make a pretty bad guest if you tried killing me. Aloth would be disappointed in both of us. Dunno 'bout you, but I'd rather avoid that.'

'I wasn't planning on attacking you,' Gaura sat up, 'or at least, I wasn't decided on it.'

'Can't tell if you're smart or soft.'

'Maybe, I am going soft,' the huntress mused. 'Tell me something: have you gone to the village for... feeding purposes?'

'Nah,' Edér waved the question off, 'it's too far and there ain't any place I could hide from the sun on the way there. There's plenty of beasts in these woods that need a sword driven through them. I only got these teeth but reckon they make a good substitute.'

'You're telling me there was not a single day all these years when you could've gone there? Not an eclipse or a winter solstice?'

'There were,' the vampire answered after enduring Gaura's suspicions glare for a while. 'But Aloth took responsibility for me. He thinks every last drop of blood I drink is on him. I can't just go around killing those who didn't have it coming.'

'Has he cast some sort of spell on you, or...?'

'Yeah, it's called "decades-long friendship". It's a real potent one.'

'Very funny,' Gaura rolled her eyes.

'Trying my best here,' he laughed heartily. 'But seriously I haven't been back to that village since I left it. Not that I wasn't tempted, just... couldn't bring myself to do it.'

'Because of that old sweetheart of yours?'

'You know about that, huh,' Edér raised an eyebrow. 'Yeah, it's cause of her.'

'I'm really sorry, by the way,' the huntress was about to squeeze his shoulder but she decided against it. Still, the vampire gave her a faint smile.

'Thanks, but no need to be. Had plenty of time to make peace with what happened.'

Gaura considered telling Edér about the mayor, his children and the fact that the woman the vampire once loved was no longer alive. But she couldn't find the right way to say it so she kept it all to herself.

'Well, then. It is decided,' she said instead. 'I won't be attacking you.'

'You can have this back then,' Edér laid the huntress' weapon on her lap. 'Tell your contractor I'm real sorry for his bad investment.'

'I wasn't paid up front.'

'Then sorry about you not getting paid,' he pat Gaura on her healthy shoulder. 'Real shame about it too, that beast was a pretty impressive kill.'

The huntress chuckled quietly. 'Thanks. But I don't really mind. I was mostly signing on for the adventure. Getting paid would have a been a nice bonus though.'

'Then I sure hope you'll have fun while you're staying here. Otherwise I'll just feel bad.'

Gaura didn't answer, only flashed a reassuring smile at Edér which he returned.

'How 'bout... you work for us instead? I mean... this place is pretty big. Old too. Could use your help maintaining it.'

'So I can imagine,' the huntress' voice rang with a hint of laughter as she remembered what Aloth said about the guest rooms on Edér's floor, 'but I'm not a maid.'

'Could also use a hunting partner,' the vampire added. 'Sure, I don't really need you but it would be more fun, I bet. Or if that's not to your liking you can help Aloth with his... magic stuff. You left a good impression on him, reckom he'd find something for you to do if you asked.'

'I assume I would also be an occasional snack for you.'

'If you'd like,' Edér shrugged. 'Not gonna force anything, I promise,' he said with a hand on his heart.

Gaura squinted at him with feigned suspicion as leaned closer to him. 'And why would I like that?'

A knowing smile appeared on the vampire's face. 'I'm told it feels good.'

'I wouldn't know, I've never been bitten by a vampire before.' Gaura laid her sword against the side of her bed. 'And as you might have guessed by now, I wouldn't mind if this was the first time.'

'Just so you know what you're getting into, I get it, I get it,' Edér laughed as he stood up. ' Might wanna lie down first.'

'I don't get lightheaded that easily,' Gaura protested but acted along anyway.

'Good for you. Still ain't gonna risk it with those bites you got,' Edér said as he looked around the room and found the huntress' battered shirt. He ripped off its sleeve with a single tug.

'I was going to fix that up,' Gaura complained.

'You can have one of mine if that makes you feel better,' the vampire replied as he rolled up the fabric into a small packet. He approached the huntress lying on the bed, to which she responded by exposing her neck to him. 'Oh. I thought we were gonna go with your wrist.'

'Is this a problem?'

'Uhh... Not really,' he said. Gaura couldn't tell for sure in the dim lighting, but it almost looked like he blushed. 'You gotta move a bit then. Unless you want me to lie on top of you.'

The huntress scuttled to the side slightly leaving just about enough room for Edér to kneel on the bed beside her. He leaned so close to her, he may as well have been lying on top of her.

'Just so you know, if I go for the throat, I go for the kill. I ain't used to being gentle here but... I'll try,' he whispered directly into Gaura's ear. 'Stay very still.'

The first thing she felt was the beard brushing against her jaw. Then his mouth being pressed against her neck once, then again, slightly lower, then again, lower, looking for the perfect spot and finally stopping. His tongue traced a vein encircled by his lips, warming and slickening the skin and easing the nerves. Gaura felt his teeth grazing her softly at first, but a few of those teeth pressed against her harder and harder as of they grew with each moment.

And then her skin surrendered to the pressure of those fangs. For a moment a sharp, piercing sense of pain shot through Gaura's body, prompting her to grab Edér's shoulder. He stayed still for that moment and only dug deeper in her when her grip relaxed slightly. His teeth penetrating her no longer hurt, they only gave her a sense of strange discomfort as they slowly pushed inwards. Soon she didn't even feel that: the inside of neck felt numb. But on the outside, on the surface of her skin, she felt everything: Edér's hair, his breath, his lips caressing her, his teeth being pulled out only to the slightest bit, just enough for her blood to spill onto his eager tongue. He lapped at her slowly at first, still getting used to her taste, but once he did, he picked up the pace. But even then, the touch of his tongue felt kind... gentle... almost loving. The huntress' common sense told her she was merely feeling Edér's mouth being heated by her blood, but her senses told her she was feeling passion in that heat, that there was a promise of something more in that mouth sucking on her, that he would get even closer to her than he already has, that he would seize her inside and out, and she would love every second of it. Her reason held onto whatever was left of her sense of danger but the rest of her wanted to take on his unspoken word.

Then just as suddenly as his teeth pierced her, Edér pulled them out and pressed the piece of fabric he was holding on Gaura's neck.

'Just until the bleeding stops,' he said as his hand wrapped around the huntress' throat firmly, but carefully not to choke her. 'How are you feeling?'

'This was so far your most compelling argument why I should stay,' Gaura said and yawned.

'Sleepy? Told you it was good to lie down,' he kindly laughed. 'You're real sweet by the way. In every sense of the word,' he wiped her blood from his mouth with his free hand, then licked it off his fingers, savoring and cherishing every last drop.

The huntress couldn't answer, however. No matter her efforts, she was already drifting off. The last thing she saw was Edér lying down beside her, while holding that piece of fabric to the mark he just left on her.

'I'll stay then,' he said. 'You can rest now for as long as you feel like. It's not like time has any meaning here.'

Gaura stopped struggling against her exhaustion once she heard that. She quickly fell asleep and dreamt of being embraced, of being shielded against a swirling darkness latching on her from below but failing to drag her down. There might also have been a dragon involved. And yet she felt her dream was no match for the adventure her new reality had to offer.

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Red Huntress Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10jj

Epilogue

Find this on wattpad and on AO3

Deep in thoughts, Diana almost botched her handshake ritual with Madeline when her little sister arrived. Madeline smiled off her irritation, so Diana returned to her pondering, even as she chewed on her bread.

It was one of the rare truly hot and sunny days in the northern Lakelands, and it had rained the days before. So, were the Silver storms and nymphs even needed to prepare the soil for the corvee, or would the plants grow with the powers of the greenies just as well?

Finished with her meal, Diana glanced at her mother to mention her doubts. Maybe they were seeing this too negatively? But the words died on her tongue as she saw Mama occupied with chatting and giggling with Madeline.

Typical. Her mother – both her parents – freely shared their worries with Diana, the elder, while they continued to pamper Madeline. When Diana had been seven, as Madeline was now, she had already taken care of her baby sister, on her own, when their parents were at work.

So it was still, when Mama had a double workload for herself. Even last winter, after the evening Mama miscarried the baby they couldn’t afford. She’d left Diana and Madeline behind to go hunting again at the next dawn.

Although that night, all three of them had fallen asleep arm in arm, hugging each other and holding tight. Not only Mama and Madeline …

Diana sighed, taking a sip and using another splash to moist her face. She got up, looking for Giselle or another friend when her mother spoke.

“Diana, please help Madeline carry the baskets back to the village,” Mama told her.

Taking a breath, she prepared to argue. Madeline stood at their mother’s side, holding her hand, just like Diana had little time before. Jealousy added itself to this day’s general frustration.

But when Mama grabbed her shoulder, Diana could only nod. No wonder. Clara Farley was too formidable to be denied.

“Sure,” Diana agreed.

 Madeline didn’t stop talking on their way back to the village. It was one way to pass the long road home by listening to Madeline’s stories about their aunt Heather’s kids, who Madeline was closer to as they shared an age.

That still did little about Diana’s dim mood, though. Everything became clearer to her today. It had always been a burden how distant everything was, yet she only realized its weight right now. The vastness of the fields, to provide for the village just the needed amount of crop, cost its habitants a lot, in labour, time and energy. It was like they were always working or walking somewhere, with no time for anything else that the lords – or the villagers themselves, probably – would call “unnecessary”.

Diana hated she didn’t have even the option to try it out, whatever, “it” could be.

“And?” Madeline inquired. “Any Silvers showed up already?”

Diana snorted.

“Oh please!” Madeline insisted. “I can’t believe you saw nothing. Was it the queen? Tell me it was the queen!”

Diana stopped dead. “The what?!”

“Queen Cenra, the nymph?”

Diana laughed, but Madeline wouldn’t let her curiosity die. “You know, I kinda imagined …”

“What?” Diana said sharply. Couldn’t she be spared this? “Why do you have to be like this? So … so …” But she didn’t know like what. There had to be a word, Diana was sure, but no one had bothered to tell her, and likely the new queen didn’t want her to learn it. The Cygnets had never shown themselves interested in the northern Red peasants, even less in their education.

“Why do you look forward to wave and bow to the queen?” Diana said instead. “Like a good serf?”

Madeline shrugged. “It’d be cool, if we can say we’ve met her in person …”

“So you can say what to her? Ask her that Papa comes back and never has to leave again?”

Madeline’s jaw fell down, then started to shiver, like she was about to cry. Immediately, Diana felt horrible. However her day went, she couldn’t shove her anger on her little sister. She dropped the basket she carried and stepped toward Madeline.

“I’m so sorry, Madeline, please, I just want him to return, too …”

Madeline wiped her tears and swallowed her sob, not showing her sadness like their mother wouldn’t.

Diana didn’t know if she should be proud or hurt that Madeline managed to do this. She could only wait nervously for her sister to accept her apology.

Finally, her sister took the last step into her arms. “Sure, Diana,” she whispered. Then, having pulled away and picking up Diana’s discarded basket, she said “I can take this now, we’re almost there.” She paused. “I’ll stay the night at the farm.” She smiled faintly.

Diana nodded, and hugged her sister once more. “Have fun,” she said softly, but wondering if the fissure she pointed out was too blatant to ignore any longer.

Madeline dashed down the way to the farm kept by their aunt and uncles, taken over from their grandparents. Turning around, Diana herself hesitated to rush back to the fields. It felt so pointless, but what should she do? She strolled through the village, on the only street that had been tarred ages ago and now was more cracks and bumps than anything else. Hardly any street or road was long-living in the Lakelands, because of the marshy, humid ground. She supposed the Silvers had methods to build better streets, on better lands.

Yet in Sieverling, nature crept back in every crevice, in every corner, whether you looked at the plants growing in the holes in the streets, or at the houses interspersed with smaller fields, pastures or the outskirts of the woods, with some long branches reaching over and shading the paths its people used. Diana’s own home was rather in the forest than the village, given it had been the hunters’ lodge for generations. Her father had no living relatives on his side, so Mama and Diana’s assistance was welcome. Only that Mama always had a long walk between the forest and her work at the butcher’s, especially when she was dragging her game there ….

“Heh?”

While Diana had sauntered, her mother almost ran to her, to her surprise. What was she doing here? But Mama reached her before she came to a conclusion. She took Diana by the arm and urged her into another direction, toward their house.

“Mama?”

Her mother only looked forward. “We’ve something better to do than kicking our heels,” she said.

At home, Mama merely told Diana to feed their dog, Lily, then took a sack and her old hunting rifle. Diana was puzzled – that wasn’t enough equipment for a hunt. But her mother didn’t reply, only smiled earnestly and bid Diana to come with her into the woods.

It was obvious hunting wasn’t the goal. It wasn’t the right time for that, but a lucky hit was always possible. Yet Mama walked too fast to find game, and with a certain determination that unsettled Diana.

Instead of prowling through the brushwood, they entered a well-kept path, soil but better to walk on than on the damaged villages paths. “This one leads to the manor,” Mama said after they’d covered two kilometres or so. “Lord Isère wants us, that is, Papa, me, Anam and the other woodcutters, to maintain it perfectly. So he can show up in leisure in his transport or carriage, should the desire strike him.”

“And having a pretty view while he’s at it?” Diana added, glancing at the flowers planted on the sides.

Her mother grinned. “Yeah, that too.” She sighed. “I used to go along here quite often before I married Papa.” She paused, and Diana wondered where this was going.

“Before I had a secure, full-time job, I mean,” Mama continued. “When I was a teenager, I did all these odd jobs. To earn a few scraps of coin for the family, besides what I did at the farm. I went to another farm, or a shop, whoever needed a hand to help.”

“Like at the butcher?” Diana asked, guessing that was how she got her current job.

The corners of Clara’s mouth twitched and she nodded. “Like at the manor,” she added.

Diana’s eyes widened. “For the lord? I thought …”

“He has his own, regular farm hands, yes. But every now and then, he wanted more.” She stopped and looked at Diana. “Come. We’ve arrived.”

The path led on between several paddocks at the edge of the forest straight to the manor. Diana couldn’t help glimpsing at it, at a compound so much larger and richer than what she was used to. The paddocks and the steeds grazing it already looked noble, but were nothing compared to the flower beds and gravel yard surrounding the brick buildings. They couldn’t be exclusively living quarters, although the riding halls or stables or stores all appeared lavish on their own. There was no other way to describe the compound but as sprawling.

Diana didn’t want to call it beautiful. She wouldn’t.

Fortunately, her mother stopped at a paddock, assessing the horses in it. Suddenly, she grinned and whistled. Diana couldn’t believe it. Her mother was positively beaming – and one of the horses galloped toward them.

Startled, Diana inched away, but her mother waved her back. “Don’t be afraid,” she said, “I know this one from back in the day.” She started to stroke the red-brown horse’s head. “This is my old friend Diamond.”

Carefully, Diana moved closer and dared to touch the huge animal. She trusted cows much more, but she was happy for her mother’s sake, who clearly enjoyed this.

“Good horse,” Diana whispered, and smiled weakly at her mother, who patted her shoulder.

“Wait here while I look around, okay?” Mama said. “It’s safest here.”

Diana wanted to ask why they even came here, and what her mother was doing where it had to be not so “safe”, but she didn’t get the chance. Having placed her rifle somewhat hidden in a patch of higher grass, her mother hurried toward the buildings.

@elliemarchetti @lilyharvord @mareshmallow @maudthebookeater @wessanade @marecalrandomstuff @misology @sxfik @scxrletguardsdawn @misslucyhutton @almostconstantlyawkward @olivegreenolives @abbyboul @sparrow-ceol @choosemarecal @gisabarrovv @choosememaven @ifyouholdmebackimightexplode @alicialichter @avid-author-activist @gamer670 @neyrriz @shadykittentraveler @everybodys-emo-mother @yjlover @redqueenfandom @inopinion kk

[broomballkraken]

Title: The Scholar and The Huntress, Chapter 3

Fandom: Octopath Traveler

Pairing: Cyrus/H’aanit

Word count: 4671

Warnings: None

Summary: H'aanit seeks to find her master, and Cyrus is with her every step of the way.

They had finally made it to Stoneguard, a village in the Highlands, where H'aanit would hopefully find a clue to the whereabouts of Z'aanta. The last and only letter he had sent her was clutched in her hands, and she was at a loss on where to start looking.

“Don't worry, H'aanit! I'm sure we'll find your master here!” Tressa said, nodding as she flashed a reassuring smile. H'aanit managed a small smile in response, but the pit of dread that had formed in her stomach was a strong as ever. She had a bad feeling about this entire situation, and she would be lying if she said that she wasn't scared of what she would find here.

“Shall we split up? We could gather more information that way.” Olberic said, and H'aanit agreed with him.

“Yes, good idea. Leten us pair up and start the search. We can meeteth back up at the inn at sundown.” H'aanit said. Everyone paired off at her request and set off on the search. Olberic was chuckling as he followed a determined Tressa. Primrose and Alfyn walked off together, as the latter wondered aloud if there were any good salve ingredient sellers in town. Ophilia followed Therion, and H'aanit was left with Linde and Cyrus.

“Well then, where should we start our search? Maybe somewhere well populated, like the markets-” Cyrus began, but he was interrupted when Linde growled and was staring intently at something, and H'aanit followed her gaze. Her eyes widened when she recognized the large wolf that was running towards them.

“Hagen! Tis good to seeth you!” she said, a hopeful smile crossing her face as the direwolf stopped in front of her. He barked and wagged his tail as H'aanit reached down to pet his head. When she had left S'warkii on this journey, she had told Hagen to go ahead of her to Stoneguard. She hoped that he would have found Z'aanta before she arrived, but that did not appear to be the case, and a frown crossed her face.

“Ah, a direwolf? Fascinating! You hunters have the most interesting animal companions!” Cyrus said, chuckling as he took a step towards Hagen, wanting to get a better look at him. Hagen narrowed his eyes and growled, barring his teeth at Cyrus, who immediately recoiled backwards.

“Hagen, desist. Cyrus is thine friend.” H'aanit said. Hagen didn't back down, until Linde purred and rubbed against Cyrus' legs. The direwolf watched her carefully, and his growling ceased. He sat down on his haunches and looked at Cyrus with a softened gaze.

Cyrus laughed. “Indeed. I assure you I am not as scary as I appear, my wolf friend.” Cyrus said, a teasing edge to his voice. H'aanit watched as Cyrus crouched down to pet Linde's head, and a smile crossed her face.

“Well, now that we are all friends, leten us be off.” H'aanit said, and her brow furrowed in concentration as she looked around. A sign caught her eye, and she turned to Cyrus. “If my master was here, he would have spent far too much time at the alehouse. We should starten our search there.” Cyrus stood back up and nodded.

“All right. Lead the way.” he said, and off they went. The visit to the alehouse proved to be worth it, and after getting all the information that she could from the owner, she stepped outside with Cyrus. She needed to find this Natalia. H'aanit could not recall her master mentioning anyone by that name before. She was curious as to what their relationship was.

“Taverns really are dens of gossip. We really should know by now that they are the places to start when wanting to gather information. I really should have suggested we head right there when we first got here.” Cyrus mumbled to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

H'aanit grinned and shook her head. “Nay. We would never get anything done if the tavern was our first stop. Once Alfyn and Olberic get theiren hands on a mug of ale, they willst not stop until they are under the table.” she said. Cyrus laughed and nodded in agreement.

“Indeed. Those two really should watch their alcohol intake. It cannot be healthy-” Cyrus said, and he was suddenly cut off as a Hagen suddenly ran up to them, growling when he stopped in front of H'aanit.

“Hagen? What is wrong?” she asked. The direwolf barked in response and ran off down the street, and Linde growled as she followed him. H'aanit glanced and Cyrus and he nodded, and they took off in pursuit of their animal friends.

“Why art thou acting this way, Hagen?” H'aanit wondered aloud. Something urgent must have happened to cause him to run off like that.

“Well, Hagen is a direwolf.” Cyrus said. The duo stopped for a moment, as they lost sight of Hagen and Linde. “I have read that a direwolf's sense of smell is one hundred million more times as sensitive than that of humans.” He paused to wipe a bit of sweat from his forehead. “And even among other wolves, they have the most sensitive noses of all.”

“I assume that the smells of the city are overwhelming to him, with the crowds of different people and all. And yet,” Cyrus continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “of all of those odors, he would be most sensitive to those that he is most familiar with.” He looked at H'aanit and found her staring at him with a raised eyebrow and arms crossed over her chest.

“Er, right. To the point. He must have detected a certain scent. Namely, the scent belonging to-”

“Master.” H'aanit finished, nodding in agreement. “We should hurry afteren him, then.”

“Ah, yes. Precisely.” Cyrus said, his tone dripping with disappointment as he adverted his gaze. A small smile crossed H'aanit's face. She knew that Cyrus was passionate about teaching, and she really could listen to him lecture all day. He had the charisma to keep people interested in what he was saying no matter the subject matter. Now was not the time, however, but she would have to sit down with him in the near future to chat more about direwolves and whatever else came to mind.

“Thou shouldst not losen heart. I will listenen to one of thy lectures once our job is done.” she said, and she let out a chuckled when his face immediately brightened. H'aanit's attention was drawn to the markets when she heard the howl of a direwolf. She shared a glance with Cyrus and they were off again. *

Cyrus had to really push himself to keep up with H'aanit. The huntress was in much better physical shape than he was, and he made a mental note to try and remedy that in the future. They rounded a corner to find Hagen growling at a man, who looked like a bodyguard of some sort. They slowed to a walk and Cyrus watched as H'aanit approached Linde, who was sitting silently next to her direwolf friend. H'aanit placed a hand on Hagen's head.

“Peace, Hagen.” she said soothingly, running her fingers through his fur, “We willst taken it from here.” She looked passed the guard and saw a man speaking to a woman. Cyrus frowned as he watched the man speak in an overbearing manner to the woman, who looked incredibly uncomfortable with the situation. Cyrus looked at H'aanit, and saw that her eyes were narrowed into a glare. She tried to stalk passed the guard, but he stepped in front of her. Cyrus inhaled sharply made to move forward to intercept him, but H'aanit held up a hand, stopping him. She looked ready to deal with this herself, so he forced himself to watch silently.

“Move along now, woman. Nothing to see here.” the guard growled, placing a rough hand on her shoulder. Cyrus' eyes widened as he reached for a spell book, but H'aanit reacted faster and grabbed the man's wrist. She yanked him forward until he was off balance and delivered a sucker punch to his gut. When he doubled over in a combination of pain and shock, she bought her elbow down on the back of his head. The man slumped to the ground, unconscious. Cyrus' jaw dropped as H'aanit casually stepped over his body and made her way towards the woman and the annoying man that was harassing her.

“Well, that's one way to take care of things.” Cyrus said to himself. H'aanit continued to amaze him in the most surprising ways. He sometimes forgot how physically strong she was, until he saw her wielding her bow with ease or making quick work of a man who dared to lay a hand on her without her permission. He also admired the strength of her convictions. She jumped in to help this stranger without a second thought.

Speaking of them, Cyrus was pulled from his thoughts as the annoying man abandoned his pursuit of the woman to run to his bodyguard's side, chastising him for 'falling asleep' on the job. Cyrus chuckled and gave Linde a pat on the head before following the leopard to H'aanit's side, where the huntress was conversing with the woman that she had rescued. Hagen was letting the woman pat him on the head; they seemed familiar with each other.

“Ah, Cyrus, this is Natalia. She ist acquainted with my master.” H'aanit said when he approached them. “She...hasn't seen him in quite some time.” Cyrus noted that she looked worried. Her brow was furrowed and a small frown graced her face. He gently took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Do not worry, H'aanit. I have no doubts that you of all people can find him. You have unparalleled skills in the realm of the huntress. I will help you in any way that I can.” he said. She stared down at their hands for a moment before her eyes met his, and he was glad that a smile had returned to her face.

“I thanketh thee. I will not losen hope.” H'aanit said. Cyrus released her had and she turned to Natalia. “Leten us speaketh at thine home, then?” she asked. Natalia nodded and, with Cyrus and H'aanit helping to carry her shopping bags, they ventured to her home. With any luck, they would find any lead possible to Z'aanta's whereabouts.

*

H'aanit was panting heavily, with sweat dripping from her face when at last the Lord of the Forest was felled by one last arrow. She sighed with relief as she lowered her bow, and she noticed that Tressa had been wounded in the fight. Alfyn offered to help her back to Stoneguard quickly, and H'aanit told them that they would regroup at the alehouse. She still needed to find Z'aanta. Hagen suddenly let out a howl and ran off deeper into the forest. H'aanit clenched her jaw and quickly followed, with Linde at her side.

Bursting through the foliage blocking the way, H'aanit found Hagen sitting in a clearing, next to an oddly-shaped stone formation. As she moved closer, she froze mid-step when she was able to make out the details of the stone.

“M-master?!?”

Her blood turned to ice as she stood, frozen in place from shock. This...This couldn't be real. What manner of beast would have the ability to turn a man of flesh and blood to stone? This Redeye had to be something truly monstrous indeed.

“H'aanit! Here you are. I finally caught up with you...” Cyrus said as he emerged from the same foliage that she had moments earlier. He took one look at her distraught face and blinked in confusion.

“What's wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost,” he continued, following her gaze. His jaw dropped in shock when he saw the stone Z'aanta in front of them. “W-what is this? Black magic?”

H'aanit could barely hear Cyrus over the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. She took a few shaky steps forward, until she was close enough to reach out and touch Z'aanta with a trembling hand. The stone was cool to the touch. A wave of terror coursed through her. What if he was dead? The thought made her heart heavy, and a tight knot had formed in her stomach.

“I think this may be some form of petrification.” Cyrus said. He was walking around Z'aanta, examining him closely. “Hmm, I may have a book on this...” He pulled out a tomb from his coat and began flipping through it quickly. H'aanit focused on staying calm as her gaze moved about the clearing, until her eyes fell upon one of Z'aanta's arrows embedded into a rock. She forced her legs to move to it and she pulled the arrow out, eyes widening when she saw that there was a note attached to it.

“Master...” she mumbled as she scanned the contents. It seemed that Cyrus' hypothesis was correct; Z'aanta was indeed petrified. She clenched her fists, crushing the note in her hands. Stillsnow...She needed to go there, to find this Susanna. If there was any way to save her master, she would stop at nothing to find out what that was.

“Blast! I must have left that book back at the inn...” Cyrus mumbled as he appeared next to H'aanit. He looked at the note in her hands and then his eyes met hers. “Are...you alright? This must not be an easy sight to deal with.”

H'aanit closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She had to stay calm. She had a lead on a way to reverse this. She would make this right. And she was not alone. She had friends to help her. She had Cyrus.

“I...I will be fine. My master leften a note. Tis indeed petrification as you said.” H'aanit said as she looked up at Cyrus. “We needen to go to Stillsnow. I must speaketh to a seer there. She may be able to guideth us on how to reverse it.” Hagen growled and lay down at Z'aanta's feet.

“You willst watchen over him, then?” H'aanit said, a small smile crossing her face. Hagen nodded his head in response. “Taken care then, Hagen. I shall return, I promise.”

“Well then, we should get moving. I will be sure to check that book that I have for any details about petrification when we get back to town.” Cyrus said. He turned to walk back the way they came, but as he took a step, his right leg seemed to give out from under him and he collapsed to the ground.

“Cyrus?” H'aanit said, hurrying to his side. She knelt down beside him and suddenly realized that his right pant leg was soaked in blood. “What happened?”

“Oh dear...It appears that this wound was more serious than I thought.” Cyrus said, wincing as he pushed himself into a sitting position, his right leg stretched out in front of him. H'aanit grabbed the bottom of the pant leg and pulled it up, cringing at the large gash running up the length of his shin.

“Cyrus, how did thee not notice this?” H'aanit said, cursing as she grabbed the bottom of her dress and ripped it until she had a good length of cloth in her hands. “Why did thou not goeth with Alfyn when he left?”

“Ah, well... I saw you run off, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. I did not know what you would find going deeper into the forest. Especially after we already fought such a challenging creature.” Cyrus said, grinning sheepishly as an embarrassed blush rose on his cheeks. “A rather foolish choice in hindsight, but I could not let you face any danger alone if I could help it.”

H'aanit sighed and wrapped up his leg with the cloth. While she appreciated the thought, she did not like the idea of her scholar friend bleeding out on the forest floor. Her shoddy bandage job would not last long, so she needed to get Cyrus back to town as soon as possible. She slid one arm under Cyrus' legs and the other behind his back as she lifted him off the ground with ease. He yelped in surprise and blinked at her from his new spot in her arms.

“H-H'aanit? You really don't have to carry me. Surely I can walk back to-” he started to protest, but H'aanit cut him off sharply.

“No. My bandaging skills are not great, and I do not wanten you to loose the wrapping on the way. Also, walking on that bum leg willst maken it bleed more.” H'aanit said, shifting him in her arms a bit until he was in a comfortable position for her to carry.

“But H'aanit...”

“Doest thou eaten enough, Cyrus? Thou ist very light. You needest more meat on your bones.” H'aanit interrupted, chuckling as Cyrus' laughter hit her ears. She nodded a farewell to Hagen, and she began making her way to town, with Linde following close behind.

“Well, your strength is unparalleled. Even if I did weigh more, I'm sure that you would still have no problem carrying me.” he said, and with a sigh H'aanit felt his body relax in her arms. They moved silently through the forest for a few minutes, until H'aanit frowned and stopped.

“Cyrus.” she said. He looked at her with half-lidded eyes; he seemed a little disoriented, possibly from the amount of blood he had lost. “Wrappen thy arms around my neck. It would helpen relieve some strain from my arms.”

“A-are you sure?” Cyrus said, his eyes popping back into focus for the moment to give H'aanit a look of uncertainty.

“I would not have suggested so if I was not sure.” she said. A small smile crossed her face as Cyrus slowly snaked his arms around her neck, his hands warm against her skin. She then stiffened as his head came to rest against her shoulder. She did not realize how his face had come to hers, and she felt her face heat up. She forced her feet to keep moving again, and she almost dropped Cyrus when she felt his face rubbing against her skin.

“Ah...H'aanit...You smell...nice.” Cyrus mumbled against her neck, “Like a pine forest...fresh foliage...one with nature like a huntress should be...” She swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the large lump that had formed in her throat. She glanced at his injured leg and saw that blood had started to drip from the pant leg again.

“Damn!” H'aanit cursed as she broke into a run. He was getting delirious from blood loss. She should have noticed it before. Linde growled and took off ahead of H'aanit, hopefully to find Alfyn and lead him to them. She had already basically lost one person important to her today, and she would not let him be the second.

*

A loud yawn escaped Cyrus as he stepped out of the inn. He had been sleeping for most of the day, recovering his strength after loosing a bit too much blood to his injured leg. After receiving a good scolding from Alfyn and resting on his orders, he was heading to the tavern to meet up with the rest of the group. He was about to take a step when a growl hit his ears, and he turned to find Linde staring at him.

“Ah, good evening Linde!” Cyrus said, reaching down to pet the snow leopard as she rubbed against his legs. “I would have thought you would be with H'aanit at the tavern, what are you doing here?” Linde meowed in response and started walking towards the outskirts of town. She paused and turned her head to look at him. Did she want him to follow her?

“All right, I'm coming. I've got a bit of a limp, so I do apologize if I slow you down.” Cyrus said, chuckling as he hurried after Linde. They reached the edge of town, where he was surprised to see H'aanit, sitting on an outcropping of rock that overlooked the cliffs of the Highlands. Linde meowed happily and ran to her side, sitting down next to her. H'aanit turned her head to look at her leopard friend, and Cyrus thought that she looked absolutely radiant in the light of the slowly setting sun. With her sharp features and deeper voice, H'aanit had an unconventional beauty that Cyrus was inexplicably drawn to. Not to mention that her inner and outer strength was something that he had never seen before in such abundance. He had truly never met anyone like her before.

“Cyrus?”

Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to find her looking over her shoulder at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh dear! I'm terribly sorry for staring, H'aanit. How rude of me.” Cyrus said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He smiled when H'aanit chuckled, and he walked over to where she was sitting.

“Tis alright. How is thine leg?” H'aanit asked.

“Oh, I can feel it healing as we speak. Alfyn really has a talent for making healing salves. I don't know how he does it.” Cyrus said. “But I must ask, what are you doing out here? I would have thought that you would be at the tavern with the rest.” She frowned as she turned to look out at the setting sun.

“I...I am not in the right mood for the tavern setting.” she said softly. She sighed and wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them to her chest so that she could rest her chin on her knees. Cyrus' heart sank as he watched her. It pained him to see her looking so sad, but she had very good reason to feel that way. Find her master in such a state must have been jarring, and he was surprised that she had handled it as well as she did. But maybe she was hurting more than she had let on.

“I see. My ears are always open if you need someone to talk to, H'aanit. Unless you'd like to be alone-”

“No.” she said suddenly, cutting him off as she turned her head to look at him. She adverted her gaze to the ground and cleared her throat, a bit of red rising in her cheeks. “I would liken it if you would stay. Please.” H'aanit was hurting more than she let on. Seeing her master trapped in stone was horrifying to her, and she was actually grateful - which sounded horrible the more she thought about it - that Cyrus had injured himself so. It had provided a nice distraction from her own distraught emotions. However, now that she was not worrying about his safety anymore, those emotions were back in full force and making her feel terrible.

“Of course.” Cyrus said, sitting down next to her, close enough that their shoulders brushed lightly against one another. He sat in silence with her, watching as the sun sank below the horizon, and the stars started dotting the darkening sky.

“I'm...scared, Cyrus.” H'aanit finally said, breaking the silence. “Master...He's all I have left. If I looseth him...” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously. She was used to being so calm and collected most of the time, but this situation really knocked her our of her comfort zone. The possibility of loosing the only family she had was so terrifying that it made her stomach lurch painfully. She clenched her jaw squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back the tears that threatened to form.

Her eyes shot open as she felt Cyrus' hand fall gently onto her shoulder. A sad smile crossed his face as he gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. She felt some of the tension leave her body at his touch. For some reason, he always seemed to have a calming effect on her.

“I have a feeling that your master was more than just a teacher to you, yes?” Cyrus asked.

“Yes.” H'aanit said with a nod, “My parents died when I was but a babe. I never gotten to meeteth them. Z'aanta took me in, taught me everything he kneweth. I can't letten him die.” She looked down at her hands, which were clenched into fists in her lap. With a deep sigh, she slipped one of her arms behind Cyrus' back and placed her hand over his side, pulling him closer to her. These scared and vulnerable feelings were new, and she felt a need for physical contact with someone. She needed to feel that she wasn't alone.

A surprised 'oh' escaped from Cyrus at H'aanit's unexpected touch. He glanced down at her hand that was clinging to his side, and his gaze returned to her face. The look of hurt that he saw in her eyes was unbearable. He removed his hand from her shoulder and moved it to the other, his arm resting over her shoulders. She turned to look at him, and a smile finally returned to her face. His own lips curved into a smile immediately in response.

“Ah, there is a wonderful sight. You do look most radiant when you are smiling from the heart, H'aanit.” he said. He chuckled when her face flushed a bright red, and he used his free hand to brush away a loose strand of her hair that had fallen in her face. “Remember, you are not alone. You are a wonderful person, and I will be by your side until your master is safe and sound. As will the rest of our ragtag bunch of companions.”

H'aanit stared at Cyrus in shock as he laughed. She could still feel where his fingers had brushed over her cheek, and it made her heart race, but she did not know why. She did know that she felt much better than she had before he arrived, and she was very grateful for his friendship.

“Cyrus, I thanketh thee. I knowest that I can saveth my master, with thy help.” she said, her green eyes locking with his.

“You are most welcome, H'aanit. You are a dear friend to me, and I could not stand by while you are so saddened without offering to help.” he said, his gaze lingering on hers for much longer than was probably appropriate. He cleared his throat and adverted his gaze to the rising moon, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

A comfortable silence fell, and H'aanit sighed contently as she rested her head on Cyrus' shoulder. He responded by squeezing her shoulder and she chuckled. Something popped into her head then, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Cyrus? Thou remembers our brief discussion of direwolves earlier?” she asked. When he nodded, she continued, “Would thou liken to continue that discussion? I would liken to see if your lecture matches with what I have been taught.” She laughed when his face lit up with giddy enthusiasm.

“Oh, of course! I would love to cross check my knowledge with a skilled huntress such as yourself!” Cyrus said, and the giggle that escaped H'aanit made his heart skip a beat. What a beautiful sound that was.

“Yes, well, to begin, direwolves have the most sensitive noses of all wolf species, and-” Cyrus began, and they talked well into the night about wolves and whatever else came to mind. Eventually they talked themselves into exhaustion, and they fell asleep in each other's arms, dreaming of each other and not knowing exactly why.

[texanredrose]

By Moonlight - The Hunted

The hunter left the dining hall, with a few kind comments to the staff, and ducked through the doorway Winter had taken, determination pinching her brow. The woman hadn’t made it very far, though, walking much slower than her stature should allow, and she turned to look at Yang over her shoulder once she noticed she was being followed.

“What do you want, Huntress?”

“Pardon the intrusion, Miss Winter-” She ignored the eye roll and disgruntled huff at the honorific. “-but it seems like you’re... not feeling well.”

The woman watched her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And what, exactly, are you attempting to imply with that accusation.”

“You’re limping, Miss Winter-”

“You needn’t refer to me every sentence; I’ll not forget who I am between addresses.” The acid from before returned, tenfold; she wasn’t family and not afforded the mercy of remorse for the bluntness. “If you must know, I experienced a rare bout of clumsiness this morning and fell against my bedside table.” Winter turned, continuing the way she was heading. “I’m not sure what bearing that has on why you’re here but now you know. Be on your way.”

Yang pursed her lips, watching the woman's stiff posture and the slight annoyance hunching her shoulders, then pressed forward. "Someone needs to look at it." 

"I'll have no one else mock my clumsiness, thank you." Winter scoffed, turning to continue down the hall. "A scratch from a stumble is hardly cause to alert the castle healer." 

"It could get infected or worse." The hunter followed a few steps behind, watching the noble's unsteady gait. To most, it would hardly be noticeable, but during her brief time in Atlas' capital, Yang had learned to read the royal family very well.

The King had more ambition than sense, and he walked like a man with an all consuming purpose completely unaware of the dangers around him, so absolutely possessed of his own superiority. The Queen... had more sense than care and frankly more liquor in her pinky than either. Borne in litters and chairs by servants, she couldn't possibly keep her legs beneath her, nor her wits about her. A shame, considering the stories of who the Queen used to be before her marriage. 

That left the royal children, the real masters of the castle, seeing as the King spent more time in the war room and the Queen probably didn't know where she was. The youngest- Prince Whitley- existed as the embodiment of every ill whisper peasants traded between them: spoiled, loud, and generally impaired sense of the world. His attendants constantly flocking around him, protecting him from the truth; he walked as children often do, with a certain fearlessness, but at nearly sixteen that carelessness looked more like foolishness. The middle child- Princess Weiss- was far more serious, if still lacking a proper sense of her place in the world. She wanted to do it all, rule in absolutes and eliminate grey areas, lead Atlas into a brighter future to fulfill a much different vision than her father saw. Unlike the rest of her family, Princess Weiss seemed to listen to others and take their comments to heart, not just her sister’s; Yang had to assume the ever present shadow who so often attended the Princess had something to do with the seemingly sudden disdain for the discrimination against Faunus that remained a long held tradition in Atlas. Frankly, the crown could use such an updated view, and Princess Weiss possessed the force of will to see her aims through.

That left the eldest, the disinherited former heiress apparent to the throne. Although given a prestigious position at the head of Atlas's army, what little whispers Yang had caught hinted at a terrible falling out between the King and his eldest child, but she carried herself proudly, chin tilted up in resolute defiance. Every step seemed sure, the very idea of faltering laughable, and her precarious position within the castle seemed to enforce that heavily, the King's attention only ever moving away from his maps and strategies to land heavily upon Winter. At first, Yang thought the woman bore it out of stubborn pride, but the truth became more apparent with each passing day: as long as Winter stood ready to trip up, the King watched her like a hawk, and completely missed how Princess Weiss walked further and further from the path he'd laid out for her. 

Yang had no illusions about this objection. The woman needed tending, but if she faltered, the King would declare her unfit for her position, perhaps banish her elsewhere, and his attention could turn to Weiss, who at twenty years old stood ready to assume the throne yet unprepared for the undertaking of combating her father in tandem with helping her people. Still, she couldn't allow Winter to suffer in silence; she'd been hired to bring the people of Atlas and it's royal family some manner of peace. It seemed the easiest way to do so- aside from slaying the werewolf hiding in the woods- would be to help protect Princess Weiss and keep Winter from being found out. 

"I don't need your assistance, Huntress."

Yang's hand shot out, grabbing the woman's wrist. They looked so different- one wearing furs and chain mail with all manner of weapons hanging from her belts and the other in a crisp dress uniform with glittering medals and buttons- but they shared this, a stubborn sort of pride and dedication, the mark of an elder sibling doing everything in their power for the younger ones, even if it meant hiding their own pain. 

"Yeah, well, you're getting it anyway." Her face hardened, adopting the same tone she'd used every time someone tried to bully her into accepting a lesser reward or when Ruby tried sneaking cookies after dinner when they were younger. "You're no good to anyone walking around like that, and I can at least clean the wound and patch you up. No one the wiser and we never mention it again. Deal?"

Blue eyes narrowed, shining with suspicion and... something else. "You're a persistent bastard." 

"Not my fault my folks didn't marry," she replied flippantly, nodding back the way they'd come. "Come with me now, and you'll be able to bear weight on the leg by dinner." 

She sighed. "Very well. Lead on." 

Confident the woman wouldn't slink away now that she'd gotten her to agree, Yang turned and started down the hallway, the tread of boots behind her comforting. Trying to discreetly convince her to accept help was one thing; having to drag her unwillingly would draw a bit more attention than either would like.

Silence filled the space between them until they passed a particular painting, depicting a group of knights facing off a great white wolf. She’d seen it before, finding the whole thing odd, and opted to comment on it now that she had someone’s ear. "You guys didn't waste time immortalizing something, huh?" 

"Nor twisting it." Winter spat, stopping to stare up at the rendition, eyes lingering where blood stained the beast's muzzle and painted the snow beneath it. "This blasted beast panic has some of my best soldiers on edge, fearing some infernal demon. It's done nothing but kill a few deer."

"People have gotten hurt, too," she said, a frown touching her lips as she stopped and turned towards the woman. "Though I agree that it's done hardly any harm." At the curious grunt and raised brow, she continued. "This is no ordinary beast. That being said, it should hunger for human flesh, seek out villages, howl long into the night to spread fear... this one doesn't." She rubbed at her side where the beast had swiped at her the night before. Six inch long claws... yet not one drew blood. She had a bruise, yes, but only that. "I feel like this is the most... intelligent creature I've ever hunted and I don't think it wants to hurt anyone. It... almost seems peaceful."

She kept her suspicions to herself. After facing off against it last night, she knew perhaps better than anyone that it was nothing short of a scion from one of the supposedly extinct bloodlines, a legendary beast of strength and ingenuity, a cursed soul... but this one retained enough humanity that it seemed almost too intelligent at times. Any more of a beast and it would've killed her the night before when it had the chance- but she’d expected a beast and stood a fair chance of killing it before things got that bad, loathe as she was to do that. Now, though, she had to either outsmart it or give up the fight; although the crown didn't seem too fond of it, the werewolf wasn't harming the people and there were signs the forest benefited from the beast's presence. The King’s orders had filled the forest with far too many deer and they were leaving patches of no greenery at all, turning once lush clearings into mud that did nothing to keep the river down, the banks eroding from the excess water, and the dam had burst a few months back due to the unexpected increase.

"You show an unbecoming amount of empathy for the beast you're hired to kill," Winter said, jaw tight. 

"Maybe that's a good thing." She smiled. "This is no ordinary beast; I'm no ordinary hunter.” With a chuckle, she shrugged her shoulders. “Honestly, I think driving it north, away from the royal forest, would be better than killing it. Some creatures... are too magnificent to be mounted on a wall."

"His Majesty would disagree." 

"Your father would piss his pants if he so much as caught a whiff of the wolf," Yang replied, fairly confident her comment wouldn’t be met with a reprimand of any sort, despite the intentional informality of her chosen address.

An unexpected chuckle burst from the woman's lips, proving her right. "I can't fault you there." 

"Every now and again, I make a good point." She lightly touched Winter's shoulder. "Come on. That scratch won't mend itself and I can't have you falling down and landing on any more furniture in the meantime."

"What, exactly, are you insinuating with that comment?" She tried to seem a bit annoyed at the implications but the woman was leaning on her uninjured leg heavily and winced when her posture straightened. "Nevermind. Let's just go." 

As they both turned to continue, Yang paused, noting something in the painting she hadn't noticed before: for some reason, the great white wolf was depicted with bright blue eyes instead of the glimmering gold from the night before. It might've been just the artist's affinity for whites and blues to offset the silver and reds of the knights but... in a castle where all five members of the royal family had white hair and blazing blue eyes... it seemed an odd choice. 

"Hey, Miss Winter... who painted this?" 

"Don't call me that." She snapped, then sighed. "And my sister did. She saw the beast- no doubt you've heard the story." 

Yang's eyes narrowed. The limp in Winter's right leg, the wound in the werewolf's right hindleg, and the painting... perhaps she was seeing things. 

But it certainly didn't feel like it at this point.

Yang frowned, peeling back a hastily applied bandage caked with blood to reveal an oozing wound. Between trying to stay focused on her task- bereft of the dress pants tucked into the woman's boots, she was left with on her small clothes to protect her modesty, and the injury sat high on her thigh- and the troublesome amount of blood, the experienced hunter had thoughts pinging around her head almost faster than she could grasp them, but she reached for a clean cloth to dip into the bowl of water she'd fetched. The first thing she needed to do was clean the area so she could stitch it up. 

A hiss immediately left the woman's mouth as Yang tried her best to be gentle, glancing towards Winter's face, pinched in agony. Here, lying on her side in the bed provided for the visiting hunter, the proud soldier had fallen away, brows pinching together as she'd nearly stumbled through the door. Yang had helped her move to the bed but turned her back for the undressing process, seeing as Winter had valiantly defended her ability to attend the task herself. 

Setting a hand on her hip, Yang spoke softly. "This is going to hurt a little but you'll feel better soon. Promise." 

Winter let out a short huff in response, remaining silent and keeping her gaze turned away, staring off into the distance, unseeing.

Once she'd cleaned the wound, worry turned to dread, and a small weight dropped into the bottom of her stomach. The flesh had been rent asunder, a deep gash with the sharp edges of a blade, gray marks akin to a bruise surrounding it, and thin black veins branching out. 

Silver burns and poisoning. 

Yang sighed, turning towards her bag and reaching for a little jar she carried with her everywhere, nondescript and rousing no suspicion from anyone who might be going through her things. 

"What's that?" 

"A salve for burns," she replied, keeping her voice soft. 

Winter immediately tensed. "I didn't get burned-" 

"Easy." She offered a smile, opting to continue the ruse a little longer. "It's just a friction burn. You must've been moving faster than you thought." 

Yang knew better. Humans wouldn't get a burn like that from a blade wound; it came from the silver of her dagger pressing against the skin of a werewolf. The thin black lines, proof that enough silver lingered in the wound to seep into her bloodstream, wouldn't kill her outright, but it would prevent the skin from mending. Left unattended, the wound would become infected by silver-bite, if the silver poisoning her blood hadn’t worked its way to her heart by then.

Opening the jar, she scooped out a dollop of the salve and braced herself, applying it generously to the wound. 

"Hah!" Winter jerked, curled in on herself as she tried to hold her scream in, teeth grit in agony. Although she probably wasn't aware, the points of her incisors had become sharper, along with her other teeth. "Wha-" 

"I know it hurts, but it passes swiftly." She sighed, a little tension bleeding from her shoulders. She expected Winter to take a swing at her, and wouldn’t have blamed her for it either. "Try not to squirm too much." After coating the outside, she pushed some of the salve inside the wound, watching as the grey and black receded, the silver broken down quickly into parts so small it could pass through the werewolf's veins without too much trouble. Aside from lethargy, Winter would recover quickly, and her skin already began to stitch itself back together. "There." Yang sat back, grabbing a fresh bandage and covering the wound for the time being. It wasn't necessary but it would at least keep the grease of the salve from staining any clothing, which would work best for everyone. "See? That wasn't so bad."

"Easy for you to say." Winter growled and coughed immediately after, trying her best to cover the beastial quality to her voice. "So you're a hunter and a healer? Seems at odds." 

"Really, they're not." She put the lid back on the jar and tucked it away. "Two sides to the same coin." 

"How do you possibly come to that conclusion?" Some of the heat had died from her voice, body uncurling as the burning past. 

"Healing is about maintaining the balance between life and death- mend what you can and ease the passing when it's time," Yang said, wiping her fingers off on a spare cloth. "Hunting is the same, from the other angle. End the suffering of the old, sick, and lame creatures, use their meat to feed the hungry." She chuckled. "And, when it comes to creatures who terrify and destroy, restore the peace. Most of the time, no one wants to eat the meat of a terrible creature; if it terrorizes people, they'd rather burn the remains. That’s a waste when there can be a better balance." 

"Who taught you this?" Winter drawled, seemingly tired from both the silver sapping her strength and the salve taking the rest. "Here, hunters here are taught to prize the kill. It is not an act of mercy."

For a moment, she thought about giving her usual answer. People asked her so many times- they would look at her confused, sometimes angry, because instead of bringing back a carcass, she brought back her word that a creature would cause no more harm. Yet, her word carried weight in Remnant, because she'd yet to be proven wrong; most of the time, creatures of that nature would prefer not to cross paths with humans or Faunus, and just needed a little help. Hunting, she'd found, was as much about the kill as understanding her prey, and the balance of life demanded less bloodshed sometimes. 

Instead, she gave the truth.

"From the Elders," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting her elbows on her knees. It wasn't a comfortable position with the metal of her prosthetic digging into her skin, but she'd learned not to rest her weight on her arms and the position helped her think, even if it wasn’t relaxing. "They taught me many things. Hunting and healing, navigation and bartering, respect for the land and disdain for those who would squander it, or the precious gift of life."

"So that's why you'd rather not slay this terrible beast? Because some grandmother told you to respect the life of monsters?" Winter puffed out a breath. "You'd be better off killing the beast next chance you get. Perhaps it won't be so kind next time. Perhaps it can't be." 

"The Elders are not humans or Faunus; they're werewolves," she replied, noting the way the woman's posture seemed to immediately tense, but she pressed on regardless. Her left hand rose, fingers digging into the tawny fur of one pelt draping her shoulders. "In Vale, the Elders are a council of werewolves, the pack leaders who meet with the humans and Faunus to ensure balance in our lands. They raised me to be a hunter; it's in the blood for me to seek and find, and my wanderlust was best channeled into something productive. So I learned many things, many skills, and here I am, one of the most celebrated hunters of my time." She chuckled. "And hired to hunt a werewolf. I'm not sure if I approve of the universe's sense of humor." 

"Then why wear werewolf pelts?" The woman's voice seemed cautious, as if anticipating something foul. "Seems a poor way to honor the skills they taught you." 

A flicker of anger passed through her but she shoved it aside, keeping her voice steady as her hand moved to the darker, earthy colored pelt. "These belonged to two people very important to me. They taught me more than I deserve to know." She sighed. "Werewolves mate for life, you know, but they’re supernatural creatures, with lifespans that reach beyond humans or Faunus. And eventually, they grow weary of the marching days. When I was old enough, they decided to enter their eternal sleep, but left me pieces of them." Forcing back the tears, Yang offered a small smile. "I like to think they've kept me alive several times, protecting me even though they're gone. It makes the hunts seem less lonely."

Silence settled between them, memories lingering at the back of her mind, but she couldn't quite indulge just yet. Instead, she put the pieces together; no wonder the woman had reacted so hostile towards her at the onset. Although a werewolf's pelt looked no different than a wolf's, the scent was different to a discerning nose, even after being tanned. Yang looked like she was flaunting her kills to the very one she'd been sent to hunt. A pretty poor first impression, she admitted. 

"When you say it's 'in the blood'..." Winter started slowly, still tense- ready to defend herself- but relaxing by degrees. "Are you a wolf hunting a wolf?" 

"No." Standing up, she slowly turned and leaned over the woman- the werewolf, in her human form. Closing her eyes, Yang focused, drawing forth her brief flash of anger from before and letting it consume her for a moment before her eyes shot open. 

Winter gasped, pinned in place by what she saw, eventually uttering only a single word. "Dragon."

"That's why I hunt," she said, blood red eyes with slits holding blue, her vision heightened by allowing her draconic heritage to come to the fore. "I want knowledge, skills, talents, sights, sounds. We're a... pretty greedy bunch." Closing her eyes again, she let her eyes revert to normal. "And I understand what it's like, being seen as a beast, with no concern for the mind beneath." She pulled back, coughing into her hand. "So... not to say that there's any in this room besides me... but those of us who tread the line between human and something... different. We don't have to be monsters. More often than not, we aren't. I understand that." Winter would need rest to recover her strength, and none would dare enter Yang's guest chamber without her being present after one of the servants accidentally set off one of her traps the first day. It would be a safe place for the woman to recoup her energy, so she decided to leave her and do a bit more investigating of her own. "I'm going to hunt for the werewolf tonight. I think I can convince it to... move its hunting territory a bit north. If that fails, I'll tell the King he just needs to get used to it. The werewolf isn't harming anyone who doesn't deserve it." 

Before she reached the door, Winter called out to her. "Huntress," she said, mustering her strength and pushing herself up. "If you go out seeking the beast tonight, it will kill you." 

At the threshold, Yang stopped and flashed the woman a smile. "Good. Someone has to avenge all the time I'm going to kill until then." She waved. "See you later, Miss Winter." 

Shutting the door behind her, the corners of her smile turned down, brow furrowing. She needed to find the Princess; there was more to this story than she'd been lead to believe.

Yang found Princess Weiss in the throne room, listening to the few petitioners who'd come to air their grievances. The King was busy with his charts in the war room again, leaving his heiress apparent to attend to the duties of actually governing the country, and she seemed rather pleased with the turn of events. A small smile on her lips as she listened to a group of farmers begging to keep their lands, their pleas brought to a halt by a single raised hand. 

"You needn't fear. Your lands will remain your own." Her brows furrowed slightly. "All plans to expand the royal forest have been halted for now and I'm quite certain they will not come to pass." She tilted her head, the circlet sitting on her brows glinting in the light. "But tell me, please- have you any sightings of wolves or missing livestock recently?" 

"No, Your Highness." The leader bowed his head. "We've not seen the terrible beast of the woods nor any like it. Our herds are safe." 

"I'm pleased to hear that." Princess Weiss smiled, and given the curious looks it earned her, that had to be a rare event indeed. "Do you line your fields with anything to deter the beast?" 

"Just wolfsbane, Your Highness, to keep the mountain packs at bay." 

Yang smirked from her spot among the onlookers. Such a deceptive name for such a helpful little plant; rather than poisoning werewolves, wolfsbane, among other things, acted as the base for the healing salve that sapped away silver. But better for others to think it might help them, so plenty would be available when it was needed. 

"I do not wish for your fields to be compromised, but I will reward you handsomely for any wolfsbane you're willing to part with, Sir," the Princess said. "If we can ring the forest with it, perhaps we can restrict the beast's movements."

"We... do have some extra, Your Highness." He turned, looking at his companions, all of whom seemed to gesture for him to provide a relatively low price. "Three silver for a bushel?" 

Her brow twitched; most places would charge triple that at least. And the Princess seemed to know it, too.

"Three gold it is. Captain." She turned her attention to a tall redhead standing before her throne with a helmet tucked under one arm. "Take a retinue of guards with you and fetch the wolfsbane." 

Yang watched, closely, the way Her Highness said those words, how she carried herself as she delivered them. In that moment, Yang felt absolute certain of one thing: Princess Weiss had every intention of paying the promised price... and not much else. Looking around, she found the Princess' erstwhile attendant lingering just behind the throne, in the shadows cast by deep blue curtains framing the gaudy thing. Moving through the crowd, Yang snuck her way around until her path was intercepted by the Faunus in question. 

"You can't speak with Her Highness right now." Amber eyes shone with both suspicion and amusement. "Your attempts at being subtle aren't exactly working, by the way." 

"Maybe I was trying to talk to you?" She flashed a quick smile. "I don't think I ever caught your name before-"

"Blake." She glanced over her shoulder as Princess Weiss continued hearing petitions. "And I'll ask you to keep it brief. Her Highness will be done soon and she has a very tight schedule." 

Yang crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, wouldn't want to put a dent in makeout time, right?" As a brief flash of panic layered beneath a blush passed over the Faunus' expression, she chuckled. "Look, keeping secrets around someone who is paid to hunt things down is kinda pointless. And, really, I don't care." Yang's expression smoothed out. "She knows that wolfsbane doesn't do anything to wolves, right? Not even direwolves?" 

"I believe she does but Her Highness is doing what must be done to protect her people." 

The hunter hummed, nodding slightly. "Okay. And how long has the crown considered expanding the royal forest?" 

"About five years ago, the King began... accepting donations of land from the people of Atlas." Blake kept an impressively straight face through those words, the feline ears atop her head twitching only slightly. "But expansions stopped once the beast appeared. It's not safe for the... workers to break up the farmlands and plant the trees."

"And that was right around the time Princess Weiss became heiress apparent, right?" 

"Yes... I'm not sure what bearing that has on anything, though." Blake once again glanced back at the throne. "They're completely unrelated events-" 

"I'm not so sure about that." Yang lowered her voice. "In fact, I think they're directly related." 

They watched each other for a moment before the Faunus stepped forward. "Her Highness is not the beast you seek and she didn't unleash it." 

"I know the first part," she said. "It's the second part in trying to figure out. Because, call me simple, but I'm having a hard time understanding why the King would turn his own child into a werewolf, and then hire someone to kill her." 

"Weiss hired you, for one." A smirk curled Blake's lips, head tilting. "Because she seemed rather adamant that you could figure out the answer to that, for another." 

"So she wasn't expecting me to kill a werewolf on the first try?" Yang had almost half a mind to be insulted. 

"She didn't believe anyone could kill her sister on the first try." 

"... fair." She nodded. "Pretty sure she would've got me a few times, too, if I'd been a little slower." A furrow came to her brows. "So... I guess the obvious questions are: what's with the secrecy, why not ask her, and is there a particular reason she seems rather intent on killing me?"

Blake looked around, confirming no one thought to pay the apparent handmaiden and hunter any mind, and then nodded further towards the shadows. 

"In order: because the King both wants Winter dead for some reason and refuses to publicly denounce her since it would tarnish his image and he's dealt with enough backlash over removing her as heiress to the throne- no offense to Weiss, but Winter's pragmatism served her well. The people and the soldiers loved her and the nobles respected her. As for asking her, she's been a bit... impossible to deal with the past few months. She doesn't want to talk about anything that ins’t strictly business. And the last... your guess is as good as mine." Her ears laid back. "Weiss has been busy, Winter's absolutely avoided her at every turn, and she won't look me in the eye much less answer any question I ask. She's never been very good at explaining her emotions or motivation." Under her breath, she muttered. "It runs in the family."

Yang nodded slowly and sighed, tapping a finger against her bicep. "Figured as much." 

Her ears perked up. "So you've got a plan?" 

"I didn't say that!" She chuckled, turning on her heel and heading towards the nearest exist. "Thanks for the help." 

"Wait, Yang." She looked back at the Faunus. "Weiss believes you can save Winter. Can you?" 

"No," she replied with a shrug. "Because she doesn't need saving. She just needs a little help." 

Blake sighed. "Then your job just got a lot harder." 

Stepping out of the throne room, she allowed her feet to wander while her mind raced. There were only a few ways to turn someone from human to werewolf, and eliminating a bite seemed rather easy, since it would be the most unpredictable method and not one the King would be likely to employ. The other ways ranged from downright insidious to extremely... painful... and some were even both.

She came to a stop in front of the painting, eyes roving over the strokes, the scene; she'd already asked around, finding no other such paintings on display created by the Princess' own hand, and the King absolutely detested it according to whispers but may not even know it existed according to others. It had to be special for reasons, something hidden in the composure, in the gleam of the armor of the leaves being whipped by the wind, the comparatively small size of claws and fangs while the swords looked much larger than a man could comfortably wield, the white snow on the ground and the red of fresh blood staining it beside the broken wine bottle- 

Ah. 

"So that's how he did it." This wasn't a painting of the first night the werewolf was found out. It was the night she was turned. 

Yang’s frown deepened, a curse falling from her lips as she turned and headed towards the kitchens. Now, she at least had an idea... but not a lot of faith in its execution. 

Eh. She'd done more with less.

[thirst-order-confession]

so, like regular hunter!hux is cool n all. it was cute. but... like... monster au hux. with how much he hates witchcraft? i feel bad for the witch who tries to help him. he would be such an ass to her. but... kay... you typically write strong scary female characters? there needs to be a witch who is just as strong willed as him, doesn't deal with his snooty shit. yet is kind to creatures. shows him the craft can be helpful. nsfw or sfw? i just want some lovely badass witch to kick his ass

This got really long and out of hand. Was way overdue time wise. There was supposed to be a lot more to this story but I felt like I needed to stop somewhere before it was a novel. There could be more story if you guys wanted there to be some but otherwise, we can just leave it at this. 

The air was biting as it nipped the skin of his face, pale skin turned pink from the exposure to the cold. Eyes narrowing as he peered through the trees ahead, he cursed quietly as he slipped in the snow, nearly falling over as he clutched tightly at his rifle as he struggled to regain his purchase on the uneven ground. 

Eventually, he was able to steady himself on a nearby tree, hand braced against the pale bark.

When stable once more, he took a steady breath, the vapor from the heat swirling up into the air around him. 

Hux’s eyes scanned the forest around him, feeling both unsettled and wary of the woodlands. However, he suddenly caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned, a very human-like shape moving through the snowy landscape. 

Narrowing his eyes, he took a few steps closer and stepped around another tree to watch as the huntress moved easily through the glade, back heavy with supplies, faithful horse trailing behind her by the reins. 

Grip tightening on his gun, he moved forward once more through the trees, careful to hang back so as to alert her of his presence. 

She had been disappearing so often lately. For days at a time sometimes. In the dead of winter. 

And actions like those had made Hux highly suspicious of her actions. Perhaps in the spring or summer, it would be reasonable. But during the harsh winter, temperatures would drop to deadly lows in the night. So he had followed her.

If anything, to see where she held up during the night for future reference. 

Yet, as he watched her move through the trees, rounding a bend of a rocky outcropping that led into a small fissure in the mountainside, the barest hint of a valley of sorts… he lost her. 

The tracks she had been leaving behind in the snow seemed to slowly disappear, as did the horse’s hoof prints. Seemingly having vanished in this fissure. 

Frowning softly, Hux proceeded forward in search of her before he retraced his steps, thinking that perhaps he had missed a turn off they took or a different route. 

What was even more unsettling was the fact that when he returned to the tiny valley, the tracks were gone entirely. 

And it had failed to snow since then. 

Was he… going mad? 

Was the endless white wasteland of the Glade getting to him? Was he just being paranoid? Was he dreaming? 

He knew that there were wards and magic that could make such things possible, disappearing. 

Yet Miss Kalliope said that only the strongest of witches could make them. Could make a charm that could essentially erase people’s presence. 

When he had first met the huntress and she had shown him around the woods, he first believed he was a witch. Threatened to kill her if she was one. And this strange behavior now was only reaffirming all those assumptions. 

No wonder she was one of the best hunters in the village. 

And yet, the sun was sinking lower in the sky before he knew it, the trees and mountains around him unfamiliar in the darkness settling in. It became harder and harder to tell which direction was which, where he had come from and where he had already been. 

His only salvation was the full moon in the sky, its rays reflecting off all the snow and giving him some sort of torch to chase away the shadows. And despite that it was the dead of winter, the woods around him seemed to be full of life. Seemed to whisper. The trees around him creaking in the cold winds as if communicating with one another. 

For every step he took, the grip Hux had on his rifle tightened. 

The further he went, the more lost he seemingly became. 

Still, his surroundings were hard to distinguish from each other despite the darkness. 

When he attempted to circle back around to the fissure where he saw the huntress disappear, he found that his own tracks had vanished, the snow seemingly undisturbed by his earlier arrival. 

Turning sharply, he felt suddenly as though eyes were upon him. Watching him. Embracing his panic and fear. His paranoia. 

And then he was striding quickly through the fissure, further into the dark woods in hopes that he would stumble upon his female companion.

Hux wandered for a long while, the cold slowly settling into his bones and still biting viciously at his face and lips. 

He only stopped when he heard a crash in the distance, the sound similar to that of a tree falling over to lay in its final resting place. His heart pounded in his chest, his body automatically dropping into a defensive stance as he gripped his gun tightly as he listened to the sounds of a struggle, heavy thuds on the ground and the terrible sound of flesh tearing followed by a horrible shriek of pain that could have maybe been a rabbit but it sounded far more foreign than that. 

And then he heard nothing. 

Not a sound. Not a single breath of wind. 

And then there was a near deafening roar that sounded ahead of him in the trees and Hux was automatically clicking the hammer of his gun back, finding that he was shaking no doubt both from the cold and in response to the bodiless beast that just screamed out their want for blood. 

He felt his eyes grow wide, though, as a massive form came crawling over the hillside before him, pale shaggy hair blowing in the cold wind as the beast snarled down at him, all lanky limbs and a burly chest. 

The werewolf’s eyes seemed to glow amber in the moonlight, their lips pulled back in a snarl, muzzle coated in blood and gore from their recent kill. The nostrils on its glistening nose flared, drinking in the scent of its next supposed kill. 

The North didn’t have werewolves but Hux had heard plenty about them. Knew that the huntress of the village had enough experience with them, was in fact the one the Guild sent out to hunt down the beast if one became a problem. And now he stood facing one, teeth the size of daggers and no doubt the claws on the paws sunk into the snow were just as sharp, if not more so. 

Armitage didn’t remember any of what the huntress had said about fighting a werewolf. Only knew that silver was effective against them. 

However, as he watched the beast sit back on it’s haunches, raising up and standing to an above human height above him, Hux felt he should run. He knew he shouldn’t, that would only egg the beast on. 

But that’s what he wanted to do. 

And despite not running, the burly beast threw its head back and howled, low and guttural into the night air. A shiver had never ran faster up and down his spine before. 

Despite not running, the beast charged down the side of the hill.

Armitage’s adrenaline kicked in and his instincts sprung into action in that moment, taking aim and firing at the man-wolf. The bullet hit it square in the shoulder and yet it only yelped, stumbling sideways a moment but it was undeterred, still thundering toward him. 

Hux didn’t have silver bullets. 

He fired twice more in rapid succession, the bullets only deterring the wolf a moment longer, the man’s feet carrying him unknowingly back away from the approaching beast. 

However, knowing that werewolves could rapidly regenerate and heal their wounds, he instead chose to turn and run as fast as he could, the ginger man spraying up snow behind him as he barreled back through the little valley, rifle still clutched tight in his hands. 

Unfortunately, Hux could only get so far before he was being tackled to the ground, slammed down with his face buried in the snow that burned unmercifully at his bare skin. 

A strangled, pained scream seized a moment in the hunter’s chest before it erupted into the empty forest air as he felt dozens of those dagger like teeth sink into his shoulder. 

The weight of the beast upon his back was seemingly suffocating as it bore down upon him, the only reprieve in the experience being that the werewolf was at least a warm invitation to keep away the cold. However, Hux disregarded that idea when the beast decided it wanted to try and start ripping at him, sharp claws raking into his back as it began to shake its head with the want to rip him to shreds. 

This is where he would die, Hux was sure of it. 

There was little he could do besides squirm; scramble for purchase in the loose snow in hopes of getting away. 

He could already feel the uncomfortably warm trickle of blood down his arm and back, the sticky liquid already saturating his clothes, making them stick to his skin. 

Perhaps it would hurt less if he didn’t struggle. 

Still, despite him resigning himself to his fate, the pain was immense and fat, hot tears of anguish poured down his face. He was sure he would pass out soon from the overwhelming and continues stabbing at his already fried nerves. 

Release would come soon, he hoped. 

And then all of a sudden, it did come. And yet the pain still lingered yet the incessant tearing of the wolf had stopped. The beast’s weight was still on his back yet it had stopped and in the silence of the woods around him, Hux could hear the beast sniffing the air suddenly. 

Without warning, the werewolf was bolting so suddenly off of him, jostling the half-dead man’s wounds. Hux could only lift his head in confusion slightly, some snowflakes clinging to his lashes as he watched the blurry form of the wolf dart off through the dark trees, its tail held between its legs as its low whimpers reverberated off the trees. 

Somehow over the roaring of blood in his ears, he was able to hear the soft crunch of snow behind him and sluggishly looked the other direction, a shadowy form having appeared behind him through the trees. 

And yet, Hux found that he was too tired—to in pain— to care, his cheek once more resting in the snow as he felt himself drift under into unconsciousness. 

He first registered the near blindingly bright sunlight shinning down into his face, the pain from the assault causing his face to scrunch. He made to lift his arm to block out the sunlight but instead found his nerves strung out and a soft groan of pain left him as he felt his wounds pull taught, threatening to break open once more. 

Suddenly, there was an audible smack smack and the sun was disappearing altogether. Now no longer in such distress, he allowed himself to fall back into the warmth surrounding him, his hand dropping weakly back to his side. Beneath his palm, there was fabric, weighted and warm. A quilt perhaps draped over him and — wait… where was he? 

He couldn’t be home nor at the Guild, there was too much of an herbal scent lingering in the air, a hint of flowers — maybe lilac? — accompanied with earthy undertones of soil. 

Out of habit, Hux decided to flex his feet, the pads of his toes rubbing against a strange softness that lay just beneath the quilt. Silk… perhaps? 

He found that the same fabric also seemed to drape over his chest — his bared chest?! Well, considering the pain, he supposed treating a patient would take extra effort if he was closed. 

There was also the faint snap of a fire somewhere near his head, the heat from the flame delightful. There was also the gentle murmur of something bubbling but what broke through the lingering haze in his mind was the sound of boots moving across a wood floor. 

Miss Kalliope? 

“Close but not close enough,” an unfamiliar voice came suddenly, startling Hux into a more awakened state. 

His eyes, however heavy they may be, peeled themselves open and once more, he tried to sit up, startled. Again, he hissed in pain, the thought of his wounds now refreshed in his mind as he eased himself back down. 

Almost immediately, he was able to find the owner of the new voice, for you stood just across the room for him, hair loose and free as you faced away from him, her shoulders hunched slightly as you leaned down and read over something in a large book that was laid out on a table before her. 

Hux attempted to speak but instead paused to clear his throat, finding it to be very dry, his voice hoarse with disuse. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been sleeping a very long time Mr. Hux,” you turned a page, still with her back to him. “Or would you rather I call you Armitage?” 

“Uhm. Just… Hux is fine,” he narrowed his eyes slightly, once more trying to sit up and failing, groaning once more as he held his shoulder as he dropped back down onto the padded cushions. 

“It would be in your best interest to stay still. Or you’ll rip yourself open. Again.” 

Hux hissed slightly, face still contorted as the pain took its time fading from his nerves. 

“Again?” 

“In the beginning, I think you were having nightmares. Tossed and turned a lot in your sleep. At one point you were bleeding almost as much as when I’d found you lying nearly in pieces.” 

“You’re the one who saved me?” 

“Mmm, well, no one else was going to. And you were certainly doing a fine job of it yourself. Flopping about like a dying fish,” you glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and he could almost sense her rolling them. “You’d think that one of the infamous hunters in the Guild would have come more prepared for something as mundane as a werewolf.” 

Hux scowled over at her, “It was supposed to be a simple day trip. If I knew that I was going to be gone longer, I would have brought my supplies with me.” 

“Or should you always be prepared instead?” you were suddenly walking over to the fireplace. You had what looked to be a small glass bottle in her hand and you uncorked it before dumping a hint of its’ contents into the pot that was hung over the flickering flames. “Just like that… mmm, girl… running around the forest. Or the Glade as you call it?” 

“You’ve seen her about? The huntress?” He got no response. He slowly narrowed his eyes then, “What about her?” 

“She’s an intriguing little thing, really,” the lady straightened and finally rounded on him, leaving him with a firm stare. “Impressive, really. Observant. She learns about the animals — about the monsters — and doesn’t kill them unless they do harm to your people. It’s admirable really, how she comes and goes so easily. You’d think she would have been snared in by now. Seduced so easily like others.” 

“What do you mean?” Hux frowned, “Seduced by what?” 

For a moment, the female said nothing, your hands folding in your lap as you stood before him, proud and unwavering. 

“That’s really none of your concern, now isn’t it?” You turned away from him then, heading back to her book and her table. You faced away from him a moment more before you picked up a vile filled with yellow powder and a bucket with a ladle in it. 

Approaching him now, he only stared suspiciously up at her, worry furrowing his brow. 

“Hold out your hand,” fixed with a hard glare a moment after he failed to comply, he slowly extended his his. You sprinkled some of the powder onto his palm. “Lick this and then drink some water. It’ll help with the pain and to help you sleep.” For a moment, he again looked skeptical and you sighed heavily and rolled you eyes, shifting your weight onto her other hip. “If I wanted you dead I could have so easily left you to bleed out in the cold so for the love of the Gods lick your damn palm.” 

His hesitation slowly passing, Hux did as he was bade and licked at the powder, his face scrunching up at the surprisingly bitter taste assaulting his taste buds. A moment later, he reached up the short distance for the ladle of water, mindful of his wounds. 

He lifted his head, craning towards the promised drink when he suddenly felt a hand cup beneath the back of his skull, careful fingers aiding him as he touched his lips to the wooden ladle and drank. Evidently he did not realize how thirsty he was before, taking down the first portion in a few sips before he returned the ladle to the water twice for more. 

When he was finished, he set the ladle back down carefully and you eased his head down carefully, back onto the warmed surface of the pillow. And he only could stare up at you, suddenly so baffled at the surprisingly gentle touch. His eyes scanned your face a moment, gliding over your features as your fingers slipped from beneath his skull to pull the old quilt further back up higher on his chest. 

“It will help with the pain so you can sleep easier. You’re still very weak and there’s still chance of infection. You need to be strong if you’re to fight off the coming fever.” 

“Fever?” 

You nodded, meeting his gaze a moment as you crossed your arms and leaned against the edge of the bed, “You were bit by the wolf multiple times. Surely you know such bites left untreated turn you into a wolf yourself?”

Hux nodded slightly, brow furrowed. 

“I think I’ve managed to contain the infection for now though my methods will bring forth a terrible fever to sweat out the beast that wants to fester inside you.” You turned then, walking back across the room to busy herself with other things, a few pots clinking softly as you opened a cupboard and rummaged inside. “You’re not entirely out of the woods yet. I’ve seen many good people succumb. You’ll be fortunate enough to survive it.” 

His eyes widened, “What?” 

“Enough. You need to regain your strength. Sleep.” 

Hux felt himself bristle then, his confusion leading him more down the path of fear the more cryptic you became, “No. I demand to know what you’re talking about. What do you mean—” 

He never finished his sentence as you turned towards him, your hand extended in his direction and he only barely registered his eyes shutting before he was pulled beneath the black haze of sleep. 

When he next awoke, it was to the rumbling of his stomach and the parched burn of dryness in his throat. Peeling his eyes back, he registered the gentle humming that filled the silence of the small cottage. 

For awhile he just lay there and stared into the fire, the flames snapping across the way, nighttime having fallen across the land who knows how long ago. The orange glow of the flames cast interesting shadows throughout the modest room, illuminating the face of woman across the way, busy at work stirring something in the pot hung in the fireplace. 

The winter winds whipped outside, howling through the cracks in the widows nearest him and yet somehow, it was a comfort. All of it was more comfortable to him now. At least somewhat familiar. 

“You’re hungry,” it wasn’t a question that you asked him. “And thirsty.” 

“Yes,” he said softly, taking a moment to clear his throat, his voice still rough with disuse.

“As I heard.” 

You left the food to cook then, fetching the bucket of water once more, the pale refilled with the cool liquid.

Just as before, you helped him to lift his head, her touch surprisingly careful in comparison to her brash attitude when he last awoke. He drank once more from the offered ladle, the water easing the dryness in his throat. 

When he was finished, you went to move away again, “You’re welcome, Hux.” 

For a moment, the man debated on responding, realizing his misplaced manners but something in him refrained, soured by it all. 

“How is it that you know my name but I don’t know yours?” 

You picked up a bowl from the table and approached the fire before you ladled some of the contents of the pot inside it. 

“It was not important at the time. But if you must… Y/N will do fine, I suppose.” you said.

The man watched as you spooned some liquid into the bowl, some of it dribbling down the side. After replacing the ladle into the pot, you swiped your finger up the side and stuck it into her mouth, cleaning it of what Hux imagined was soup. 

After setting the bowl aside a moment, you grabbed a few cushions from a chair across the room and approached him.

Hux himself seemed to have read your mind, gritting his teeth slightly as he tried to sit up. Everything hurt and burned, his skin pulling taught as if it wanted to shred itself. Instead, you were quick to adjust his pillows as he moved, stacking the extra cushions behind him, your hand on his shoulder to guide him to lay back again when you were finished. 

The pain slowly began to fade from his nerves once he was relaxed back, the quilt slipping down his chest to expose his bared torso to the warmed air in the room. Even still, he could finally look down and examine the bandages spanning his chest, most of them old in appearance and stained with discolored liquids. 

“We’ll change those in a bit. Here,” you handed him the bowl of soup, a wooden spoon resting it it. “Eat first.”

It looked highly appetizing, he decided. Rich and thick. Full of potatoes, beans, and herbs. 

It reminded him of his mother’s cooking. 

He lifted a spoonful to his lips to blow on it.

“You shouldn’t need to blow on it,” you said suddenly, causing Hux to look up at you. You were facing away from him, getting her own bowl. How did you know he was even going to eat some already? “It won’t burn you.” 

Cautiously, he took the spoon into his mouth and oddly enough, it was the perfect temperature. Warming and filling yet it didn’t burn his mouth. 

Strange. 

He felt his brows raise, “It’s very good.” 

“Thank you.” 

“So… where are we? Technically speaking?” He looked up at you as he spooned another portion into his mouth. “Close to Occult?” 

“Mmm, no. Pretty far actually. Hours from Occult.”

Hux’s brows raised, “What?”  

“You’ve somehow seemed to wander pretty far then, Mr. Hux,” you explained. “Occult is hours from here.” 

The man frowned softly and blinked at you, “How… is that possible? I-I mean… it’s not.” 

“The Glade is a strange place. Dangerous. Sometimes, when people are never found, they were not eaten by anything that resides here in the trees. Instead, they only lose their way and are left to wander for the rest of their days.” 

“How do you know this?” Hux was suddenly suspicious, eyes narrowing slightly. Regardless, he continued to eat his food. 

“I’ve seen people come and go. I’ve helped to send them back to where they belong.” 

“Like the huntress?” He took another bite. 

“No,” you explained. “She comes and goes as she pleases, unhindered by this anomaly in the woods. It’s as if there is nothing stopping her.” 

“But it stopped me?” you nodded in answer and he watched you as he ate more soup. “What could be the cause of this?” 

You spooned some soup into your own bowl and sat down across from him, slipping some past your lips as you ate, debating how you would answer. 

“Could be a number of things. Someone doesn’t want you finding them, doesn’t want to be disturbed. Could be some sort of… I don’t know… a witch…?” you ate another spoonful, “…or a monster of some sort, perhaps?”

“She’s a witch then?” 

You snorted softly, “Gods above, no. The little huntress is no witch. Just… favored… by something.”  

He took a moment then and looked down, his bowl of soup empty. He felt surprisingly good, a little more human now that he had food in his system. Regardless, all of what you were telling him was troubling news to be heard. His mind was racing with the possibilities. Still, he didn’t protest when you took his bowl from him and refilled it for another portion, almost as if you had read his mind. 

The two of you ate in silence after that. 

“We need to change your bandages,” you said suddenly, causing Hux to look up at you. You rose, finishing the last bit of your own meal just as the man finished his own. 

Taking his bowl from him, you walked over to your table and set them down, pausing a moment as you focused. 

Without warning, the bandages wrapped around his chest loosened significantly, almost falling open slightly. What had done that? They had been so secured before he was sure. 

You were approaching him then, quiet as you began to unravel the dirty bandages, mindful of the stitched up wounds and the bits of dried blood and puss that came away with it. There was sign of infection but that was to be expected; the wolf still needed to be pulled from him. 

You would need to start the fever soon if it didn’t start on its own. The next full moon was not too far off and starting the fever yourself would make the procedure that much worse. That much more painful. 

Behind his back, you held out your hand and the pin once in place flew carefully through the air to settle into your palm. Setting the bandages aside, you took a moment and seated yourself on the edge of the bed, your hands going to his shoulder to check him over. Your fingertips were light as they pressed over the rows and rows of stitches, your work only messy because of the overlap in the wounds. There hadn’t been much flesh left of his shoulder by the time you got to the scene of the attack. 

“Gods… it’s so ugly.” Hux breathed, looking down and over at his shoulder, at the angry flesh and the mess of stitches holding him together. No wonder there was constant pain niggling at his nerves. 

“I will do my best to keep most of it from scarring,” you said quietly, understanding his concern. He hadn’t seen the extent of it all yet. 

“How, though? Nothing on Earth could fix this.” 

You laughed softly, moving your hand up further to rest over the majority of the wound. Hux hissed as you lightly rested your palm over the bulk of the stitches, eyes scrunching shut for a moment. And then there was a calming warmth spreading through him, soothing his fried nerves and the ripped tendons. 

“Why are you so upset, hmm? Scars are nothing to be ashamed of. They tell stories of all sorts. Stories of our lives. Of our mistakes and of our triumphs. Or are you afraid you won’t be such a pretty boy after this?” 

Ignoring your last remark, Hux allowed his eyes to slowly open and he found that there was a soft, golden glow that filled the room. For a moment he met your gaze, the gold glowing in your own irises. And yet, when he looked down at his shoulder, he found the source of the glowing. Your palm upon his shoulder; upon his angry wound. 

For a moment, he didn’t understand what was going on, the relief brought onto his shoulder making him lightheaded. It was so sweet suddenly, the lifting of his pain. Of all his pains ailing him. The slight crick in his back that was seemingly always there was gone as well, vanished. 

And then all of a sudden, he was realizing what was happening. What you were doing. What you were, evidently. 

Haze clearing from his mind, Hux was grabbing your arm at a near frantic rate and wrenching it off of him. The look he gave you was one of disgust, a sneer distorting his features.

“I knew something was different about you,” he growled, eyes narrowing. “Something… wrong. And here you are, a bloody witch.”

“The bloody witch that is helping your ungrateful hide.” You tore your hand our of his grasp, his healing muscles stretching painfully. Hux hissed and reached for his own shoulder as you sat, leveling him with a hard glare. “It took you long enough, you naive child.”

“Get away from me, you hag.”

A humorless laugh escaped you, “Mmm, how original. Do keep trying though. Your insults may start to improve.” You stood up then and moved away from him. While approaching the table for herbs to lace his wound with, you extended your hand and the dirty bandages floated towards you through the air, slowly twisting towards you and around Hux. “You humans are horrible ungrateful, do you know that?” 

However, for a moment, Hux felt fear fill him as he watched your back. Of what you may have done to him. Of what you would do to him. 

“Take me back to Occult.” 

You paused a moment and looked back at him, “Pardon?” 

“I want to return to my village this instant. And you will take me there.” 

“And if I don’t?” You muse, grinding a handful of herbs thrown into your mortar, pestle in hand. “What shall you do to me, O Great and Mighty Hunter?” You smirked to yourself. “You’re going to crawl home then, tear open your wounds? For I have no horse. And by the time you’ve reached Occult, crawling, spring will nearly be over with and something else scarier than a werewolf will have eaten you by then.” 

The ginger just continued to glare at you, quiet now as you returned to his side. However, when you reached out to touch him, he grabbed your wrist; your eyebrows lifted into your hairline. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

Unimpressed, you rolled your eyes, “And if you refuse treatment, you will die, if not become one of the werewolves. But please, be my guest. If you wish to be so horribly asinine, it would leave no mark on my conscience to just toss your rotting body out into the snow until the woods thaw in a few days. And then the animals can have you, pick you clean. Or, if you’re lucky, you can be hunted by your own people? I’m sure the huntress wouldn’t mind tracking down your sorry hide, pin your furry ass on her wall.” You stood a moment, your brow set in a hard line over your eyes as you glowered down at him now. 

For a moment Hux continued to glare up at you, eyes ablaze as he internally struggled against his hatred for you. Because he wanted to live. Wanted to see the huntress again. 

Now quiet, he turned away from you, his hold on your wrist loosening. His shoulders drooped slightly in defeat. You couldn’t help the soft curl of your lips as you stepped forward once more, victorious. 

“That’s what I damn well thought.” 

You finished your work swiftly, having called the mortar of crushed herbs and bandages over to you. The man was silent the entire time, unmoving and breathing slowly as your hands carefully worked over his wounds. For a moment, he found himself spacing off, eyes staring unfocused across the room, mind in a lull for a moment. He forgot for a moment what you were and instead found his eyes almost drifting shut as your hands flitted carefully across his chest, the man only reawakening slightly when your chest was suddenly close to his back as you wrapped fresh bandages around his torso, winding them tight to keep pressure on the herbs placed there. 

Then without a word, he eased himself back onto the bed, rolled onto his side, and slept without a word of thanks given to you. 

You shook your head softly, turning away with a quiet sigh. 

You’re welcome, Armitage Hux. 

Hux didn’t feel the pain until it was too late. 

He only awoke to the searing pain, the seemingly suffocating grip on his lungs. He remembered waking up, eyes shooting open as his nerves lit on fire once more, pain streaking up and down his body. 

A choked gasp left his taught body, his back bowing off the bed as he writhed, eyes slamming shut. 

And Gods above, he was hot. It was as if he was being held over an open flame and the fire was licking through his very soul. 

When another wave hit him, a strangled shout left his lips, his hands curling into taught fists beyond his will as he felt parts of his muscles spasming and twitching. 

What is happening to me? 

He could only think to himself, the pain leaving him beyond words. 

Hux was so far gone, he couldn’t feel the cool towels draped over his feverish skin, the fact that you cut the legs of his trousers short to help remove an extra layer of clothing from him while maintaining his modesty. 

There was little you could do besides stand beside and watch from across the way. The day passed quickly enough, Hux’s grunts and cries soon falling to the back of your mind as you went about taking care of things around your home. And this continued to well into the night. 

Still, you always brought him damp towels, wrapped snow in a few of them and laid them across his skin in hopes of cooling the fever. You wondered how long it would take to break; the tome you read said it varied from case to case. It could range anywhere from two days to two weeks depending on the infected person. 

At one point during the night, though, you realized that your house had grown quiet. Fearing for the worst, you returned to the man’s side… only to find that he was still breathing. Just unconscious from exhaustion and the pain, no doubt. The human body can only take so much.  

You wondered when next you could properly sleep and sighing, crossed the room to mix something up for yourself to help you through the long days and nights coming. 

Having been busying yourself with washing and boiling the old bandages, sorting through more of your ancient tomes for something to help, and making dinner for yourself, the cries began again. 

And no matter how rude he seemed to be to you, you couldn’t help but feel pity for the man as he once more began to writhe, his skin seemingly always glistening with sweat as the fever took its time working through his system. 

For a long while, again, all you did was stand there and watch him, a disturbed and uncomfortable look upon your face as his choked sounds continued to pervade the air. Still, you let him be, helpless really for the time being. 

It was when the man finally was able to speak up, the sun setting on his third full day of the fever that you hesitated. 

“P-P-Please,” he sobbed out, if barely able to do that. “K-Kill me.” 

You rose from your place where you had been tending to the fire, brows lifted nearly to your hairline in surprise. 

When you approached, you weren’t surprised to find his cheeks tear-stained and his eyes red from the agony he was going through. 

“Just k-kill me,” he begged you suddenly, his eyes screaming shut again as another wave of pain washed through him. “Please… Please e-end it. E-End my s-suffering.” 

That would be too easy. And in his desperation, you knew it was not what he truly wanted. He wanted to live and you would grant him this. 

He just had to be strong enough to get through it. 

“No.” 

You turned to walk but was once more surprised when Hux lashed out and there was a tight grip upon your wrist, holding you back. When you did turn back to face him, you found that the ice in his eyes had melted as if the fever had thawed him out. Instead, you saw desperation and need for relief. 

It had been a long time since you had seen anything so pitiful. 

Sighing and resigning yourself to your fate, you took hold of his hand and pried it off you, just the barest hint of your own strength enough to overpower him. 

But unlike the other times, you did not leave to sit back across the room. 

Instead, you sat on the bed beside him, your hands cradling his head as you placed it into your lap. Evidently, the man couldn’t find it in himself to care that you were a witch anymore and instead accepted his fate as your hands brushed his sweat-slicked hair back from his forehead. 

He let out a physical moan of relief and even pleasure when your hands, chilled with your magic began to stroke across his face. Your finger tips were light as they danced across his heated flesh, pausing at his temples to massage some of the tension away from there. 

Hux, in his fever haze, lifted a hand and once more held your wrist. Not moving it, just holding on as if it ground him to reality. 

However, another wave of pain spiked through him and he cried out once more, body twisting almost unnaturally a moment and yet you continued to soothe him as it passed. 

“Hush,” you cooed, your thumb tracing down the side of his cheek. “You’ll be alright.” 

Whether it be by your command or by his own accord, the man did indeed grow quieter. Though Hux was loath to admit it, your gentle caress was grounding him back into his own body, beyond the pain. And he craved for more of this relief.

As if in a dream or trapped within his own subconsciousness, he nuzzled further into your cool, calming touch. 

Your own eyes widened when your hand left him for a fraction of a moment to itch a scratch on your nose and the hunter whimpered, brow furrowing not from pain but from your fingers’ absence. 

So, you stayed and sat with him, unable to truly move away. At one point, you were able to get him to drink a bit of water to help keep his system hydrated. 

You also found yourself wondering when the last time was that someone had even touched Hux like this. Touched him… in any manner, really. 

For with the frantic way he would act when your hands left him, his lips, at one point, seeking out your chilled palms, you were apt to believe that it had been a very, very long time. 

And at one point, you came to realize that Hux had grown rather quiet. Before you looked back down at him, you would have assumed he was asleep but felt your own face growing a bit warm upon the realization that the ginger man was instead staring up at you from  your lap. 

His eyes, though hazy, seemed to be studying your features, his lids blinking slowly with contentment as your thumbs continued to absentmindedly stroke his red cheeks. His irises seemed to glow in the dying light of the sun, ablaze with the orange and pink hues of the winter sky. 

How… beautiful. The train of thought coming out of nowhere, catching you entirely of guard. How unlike Hux typically is. 

As if to further comfort him, you once more brushed his hair back from his face, the man’s eyes slipping closed as you continued to pet his hair long after your first brush of his forehead. 

His breathing evened out after a long while, no longer so haggard for the time being. However, he was still worryingly warm from the fever. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. 

Lightly brushing against the edge of his mind, though, you found he was drifting off to sleep and that he very much liked your gentle stroking of his hair. And just before he disappeared beneath the black comfort of sleep, his voice, hoarse from yelling, could be heard. 

“Thank you.” 

[iwritewithanaxe]

The Fire Hunt, Volume One, Chapter 1

—Are they still following us? —the demon asked.

  —What do you think? —answered the huntress.

  They had been escaping for almost two hours from their pursuers, Sir Louis the Bald and Sir Lance the Secondary. They were on foot, while those following them rode horses.

              —A forest —growled the druid, changing directions immediately to said place. The huntress, the demon and the dragonslayer had no option but to go with him.

              —You do know that is an enchanted forest, right? —asked the dragonslayer, getting close to his companion’s ear. The only answer he got was some sort of bark—. I will take that as a yes.

  The four of them got into the grove. With each step they took, the trunks became closer to each other. Dusk joined the canopy in a few minutes, hiding them completely under a mantle of darkness.

  With just seeing the forest, Louis and Lance knew it was already late. They knew that enchanted place. Their mounts wouldn’t be able to advance correctly after the first ten meters, and they wouldn’t be able to move correctly when dismounting, it’d be impossible in those swamped soils, and worse would they have to fight surrounded by branches.

              —I think they stopped following us already —said, several minutes later, the demon.

              —Had you not noticed? —the druid answered crudely to him, stopping his march. The huntress and the demon also stopped advancing—. You can get down now.

              —Right now, my friend —said the dragonslayer, dismounting.

  The druid then stood back up. His extremities ceased being those of a bear, the antlers disappeared from his head, and his wolf face went back to the human form.

              —We’ll trust your instinct, Cuno —said the huntress, taking an arrow from her quiver. Her companion let out a growl, that didn’t sound different from those he emitted in his bestial shape.

              —Not giving us any other option, don’t you think? —told the demon to the dragonslayer. He nodded.

  They advanced in line through a narrow path between the trunks. At the front, was Cunobelinos, the druid, moving branches out of the way with his huge arms, and sniffing through the thick beard. Few meters behind him was the huntress, Emer, with an arrow resting on her bowstring, keeping an eye on every corner of the grove. Peacefully following her was Leofsige, called the demon, twirling his battle axe lazily in his left hand, while the right, covered in binds and spikes, rested on his belt. At the end of the line, looking back every once in a while, with his shield and spear ready, was Ellanher the dragonslayer, walking with heavy steps.

  Suddenly, the druid stopped. They thought they had been walking for an hour, but it was impossible to distinguish the passing of the day through the canopy. In that forest, night was permanent.

              —I knew I knew these trees —he said, sniffing with more attention than before.

              —Is any your friend? —asked the demon.

              —Sadly, in woods like this one, trees do not make friends —the druid answered, not giving him much attention, while observing the leafs and feeling the barks—, but, years ago, I met a woman here… a good friend.

              —You have women friends? —Leofsige continued. The druid didn’t even hear him, focused on a trail he had just found, but the huntress looked at him strangely, and the dragonslayer let out a weak laugh.

              —I got it —then, Cunobelinos’ hands turned back to claws, and hair covered them again, up to his shoulders. In a few seconds, he had climbed a huge and thick tree of bluish leafs—, she is here.

              —Are you talking about me, druid? —at the top of another tree, in an incredibly relaxed stance even though she was standing on three branches, there was a woman. She looked notoriously strong and well armed, with three knives sheathed at her waist, an oval shaped shield in her left hand and a morning star in the right, and four javelins at her back, over a short fur cape.

              —Precisely, ransacker —the man answered, walking through the canopy to her, with unexpected agility for someone his size.

  They exchanged greetings and respects, using the old and almost dead idiom of the Celts.

              —I missed so much talking to someone in my language —said the druid.

              —I think last time I used these words was when we first met —she answered.

              —Really? I would have thought there would be someone else, with your traveling.

              —I travel as much as you, maybe less, and undoubtedly with less company.

              —Have you stayed alone?

              —Well, yes and no. Two days ago a pair of north men arrived to this forest.

              —Scandinavian?

              —Slav.

              —Your same blood.

              —They are nice… weird, but nice. Come with me, we have a camp set up.

  With a jump, and a landing that made the floor tremble, the druid went back to his companions.

              —Follow me —he said, once again speaking Spanish, the only common language between the four of them.

              —Have we done anything else? —the demon asked, but Cunobelinos had already turned back, entering the trees.

              —Sooner or later, you’ll realize he doesn’t even understand your jokes —said the huntress to him, going after the druid. Leofsige followed her, and then the dragonslayer, after laughing.

  They arrived, the five of them, at a clearing almost completely insulated, surrounded by tree walls on every side. The earth of the soil was dry, and there were some spots of light entering through the canopy.

              —Welcome to where stars are visible every moment —said a kind voice, in a Spanish covered by Slav accent.

              —Hello —said another voice in the same way, except much calmer.

  As the ransacker had told the druid, there were two men, sitting on the floor around a campfire. One of them, the more charismatic and first to greet them, looked strong even with how thin he was. He wore an austere suit of armor, made of some leather and fur, and even less metal, but camouflaged, and carried several visible weapons: A guan dao, a saber, a machete, an English longbow, and a pair of knives. The other man, notoriously more relaxed, was taller and thinner, with a simple gambeson reinforced with metal over his clothes, but not much less armed. Over his back there was a two handed sword and a Mongol bow, he also carried two knives, and on his hand he held a lute.

              —Hunter, bard, this is the druid —said Cunobelinos’ friend.

              —A pleasure —he started—, I’m accompanied by the huntress, the demon, and the dragonslayer.

              —Pleased to meet you —said the man with the lute, the bard surely, putting some notes from the instrument after his words.

              —A demon and a dragonslayer? Where have we ended up? —said the other man, smiling, apparently the hunter.

              —To an enchanted forest, according to this guy here —Leofsige answered, pointing at Ellanher.

  Greetings were exchanged as the newcomers sat around the fire.

              —How did Cunobelinos and you met? —asked Emer to the ransacker, uncapping her waterskin.

              —It was… four years ago —she started—, in this very forest. I had just killed an entire garrison and burned down a castle, and several others were after me, when this giant came across.

              —You bumped into me outside that fiefdom —said the druid, eating some seeds he had just picked from the floor.

              —Wait, you alone burned down a garrison and killed a castle? —the hunter asked, opening his eyes in amazement.

              —There weren’t more than ten soldiers, and it was a small castle —said the ransacker—, but then there were almost fifty after me. After I bumped into him, he saw my pursuers, and told me to follow him. As his smell was almost identical to that of a bear, I decided to trust him, and we ended up here.

              —Because of his smell? Seriously? —the dragonslayer wanted to know, taking off his mail shirt.

              —I have never been betrayed by a bear or anyone that smells like one, have you? —the woman answered to him.

              —… Well, that makes sense. Go on, please.

              —We stepped into this woods, waiting the soldiers wouldn’t come in, but some of them did. They were few… it was strange. In that moment, I learned what an enchanted forest can do, and why they are called that. With every step we took, we heard the scream of one more soldier. When we had taken fourteen steps… silence. Something in the forest noticed we were its allies, like now it notices we all are.

              Cuno, it was you, right? —the huntress asked the druid.

              —No. At the time, my knowledge of the roots was even less than now. I could communicate with them, so I could hear their intentions, but nothing else.

              —And, are you sure Sir Bald didn’t follow us into this woods? —inquired the demon.

              —Yes, I am. They made a very good decision not entering here.

              —How unlucky are we.

              —Sir Bald? You mean the French man? —the bard asked, leaving his lute silent.

              —You know him? —asked Emer, rather impressed.

              —Maybe, you mean the French man? —the bard insisted, as impressed as her.

              —Yeah, he’s French. Another French man accompanies him, named Lance, whom you probably know as… —started the demon, up until the hunter interrupted him.

              —The Secondary?

              —Exactly. I think that answers our huntress’ question. How did you came to know them?

              —I would bet, just as you —the hunter said.

              —He chased us once because of… something far less spectacular than the ransacker’s story —the bard added.

              —Then spare us that story —said the demon, incapable of avoiding his laughter right after he finished.

              —Don’t listen to him —Emer intervened—, tell us, please.

              —I had already stopped listening to him —said the hunter.

              —Well, it was in a village, in Iberia, some years ago —the bard begun narrating, accompanying his words with some chords from his instrument—. There were rumors and murmurs about a beast, dog-like in appearance, devouring the livestock. We volunteered to find it, they offered us bounties for finding it, so we went to find it. We brought death to the beast that very night. When delivering it’s corpse, some cows got scared. Looking at and smelling that body, for sure. A torch or a lamp or a candle, we never knew, something fell and set something else aflame and, within minutes, half the village was on fire. Just our luck, there they were, the two French knights, the Bald and the Secondary. Just as the guilt fell upon us, which was quite quick if you ask me, they also fell upon us, so we escaped.

              —I’m surprised at how your story is far less exciting that the ransacker’s one, but still you can make it sound far more exiting —said the demon, when he knew the narration was over.

              —That is what he is a bard for —the hunter told him.

              —By the way, you were right —the huntress said to him—. We met them in a very similar way.

              —As I don’t want to even remember that cursed day —Leofsige intervened—, I must ask about your weapon —he said, looking at the hunter—. Where did you get that thing?

              —It is a guan dao, from China —the smiling man begun—. You would be surprised to see what some merchants bring sometimes.

              —Do they bring things like him? —the demon asked, pointing at the druid. The dragonslayer, the huntress, the ransacker, and both of the Slav men laughed. The demon would have smiled at the success of his comment, but he was stopped short by a smack to the head from the druid—. I must thank you for not turning your hand to that of a bear, my good friend.

              —Do not think I did not have that idea —the huge man answered, sitting again.

  Time passed under the stars of the canopy, while no one was capable of knowing if the sky was lighted by either the sun or the moon. Some hours went by when the first of those present fell asleep. A little after, a second one, and a third.

              —In moments like this, my friend —the huntress started telling the druid, but a yawn interrupted her—, I envy your capacity of sleeping on the trees.

              —Soon we will have a caravan, do not worry —he told her, right before she wrapped herself in her cloak, and fell asleep.

  “There is no danger nearby” Cunobelinos thought, “there is no need to climb up a trunk”.

  The ransacker thought the same thing and, while the others slept covered in wool, fur and leather, the two of them, each on a side of the clearing, fell asleep with no other cover than the forest’s presence.

  End of Chapter 1