The Huntress and the Hunter (Completed)

[Jeremiah Maccabee]

The Huntress and the Hunter The 88th of Summer 512 Northern Wildlands, near Ravok Mac liked bogs. The heavy scent of fir and huckleberry found its way into his awareness. It had a slight acidic tinge to it. The ground was spongy, giving him a slight bouncing motion as he made his way cautiously through the open evergreen woods that covered this particular bog. Huckleberry, cranberry, tamarack and a dozen other bushes and trees that he couldn't name filled in the spaces between the great firs. The air was still and heavy and hot. The dominant sound was silence, broken occasionally by the “caw caw” of a crow or the eery call of a distant loon. He was tracking a black bear. At least he thought so. That is, he thought it was a black bear and he thought he was tracking it. He wasn't entirely sure of either. He had spotted what he believed to be a pile of bear scat, and a second one a short distance beyond the first. Walking forward in long arcs, he had come across a third. They were fresh. Based on the three finds, he guessed the direction the bear was going. He had an arrow loosely notched on to the bow string of his short bow as he moved slowly through the underbrush, his eyes sweeping left and right in front of him. A sharp crack to his left brought him into a crouching position as he swung body and bow around to face the sound. It was a big, antlered deer. It caught his movement and turned its gaze in his direction. He pulled the bow back, sited the buck's shoulder and released the arrow in a single smooth motion. The arrow left the bow with a twang and whistled across the intervening distance and embedded itself in the trunk of a tree about two meters to the left of the deer. The deer bound away in great leaps and disappeared from sight. “Crap!” Mac said. He retrieved his arrow and sat down with his back against the tree. “The great hunter sallies forth and slays yet another wily tree. I wonder if its bark is edible?”

[Aello]

Boiled leather soles sank into the mud, leaving soiled prints in the girl's wake. Noxious vapors of a putrid green shade akin to pus slipped out of the pores. Swirling through the air where they were snuffed out by the occasional wind which swept through the forest, carrying the scent of the bog and moss laden bark, slick with recent rain. "Go or die," Aello grumbled under her breath as her fist tightened around her father's old bow. Causing the remnants of color to flee as her knuckles rippled unpleasantly. Bony knobs twisting against a thin sheet of pallid flesh, glistening with the sun's golden rays. She turned her swan's neck, casting her darkening gaze upon the city she had left behind. "Well I bloody did now!" she screamed as she rolled her head back around and continued on her way. Yet another much needed escape from the land from which sprouted all chaos. Never to return. Never to set a pair of eyes upon a place so wretched that the other, dark gods spat it back out. Aello shook her head, causing several strands of chestnut colored hair to splay across her visage. The occasional clinging to blood red lips; the crenellations cast against a bed of flesh. The aurist's free hand balled into a fist, she could feel her nails digging rough crescents into her flesh. "You're just Rhysol's bitch! You know that Silvas! You're just his wretched errand boy! And had you not been surrounded by your pretty little underlings, you'd be dead! Bleeding out under this cursed blade!" Aello screamed as she rounded a bend. "Like all his other filthy lapdogs, you deserve to petching die! Just like Kiochi with his petching horrid laughter! Where is that petching overgrown blue monkey anyway?" she asked of the sky. "Where is he hiding from the blade he deserves to sever his skin? To wrench open his gut, spilling his entrails upon which Nex can feed?" Aello's eyes were blazing as she wove through a line of trees and into a clearing, which poured out into another sea of hardwoods. "You hear that Rhysol?" Aello asked. "Do you know how much you are hated by some? Those who can truly see?" she wore on. "Or are you just as blind as those whose eyes you make blank slates? A field of ominous white, soon to grow crimson with spilt blood?" The girl paused, the auras were flickering. Prodding her, willing her to shut her trap. Oh petch, Aello thought as she turned towards the bog. Someone may have heard, which means I just may have to kill him...

[Jeremiah Maccabee]

The sound of shouting broke the silence. It was coming from the direction of his camp. “Great,” he said. “All I need is for someone to steal my horse.” Mac hardly ever met anyone this far from the city. He headed back toward the campsite at a jog, making no special effort at being quiet. He swept his gaze back and forth in front of him looking for something familiar. He moved in wide arcs across sound-deadening peat trying to pick up his track. Finally he stopped. “Damn.” He pushed the rising panic back down and forced himself to sit on the ground. “Okay Mac,” he said. “You're not lost. You're just a mite turned around. The camp cannot be very far from here. You could probably see it if the trees weren't in the way. And you have plenty of daylight.” The urge to run – in any direction – was almost overwhelming. But Mac had been lost before so he was familiar with the fight or flight response. He took a long drink from his water skin and then poured some over his head. He was worried about whoever was out there stumbling across his camp while he was gone. But he was more worried about not finding his camp at all. He used a stick to make a large X in the peat. Then he sited on a tree about 50 yards away and walked toward it, counting his steps. When his count reached 50 he made another X, sited on another tree ninety degrees to the right from his last line and walked 50 paces in that direction. He turned right again and this time walked 100 paces. He would continue making an ever-expanding squared-off spiral until he spotted his camp. It was a slow but fairly certain method. An hour later he would cross the stream he was camped beside and would walk into camp. Mac's Camp : Mac's Horse :

[Aello]

It didn't take long for Aello to reach Mac's camp. For her eyes to sweep over a pitched tent, fire circle filled with ashen branches. Cinders flaking into the dirt as bright orange embers smoldered along the edges of fallen limbs. A horse with clipped fur neither white nor grey lazily grazing on bright green blades, swaying silently in the breeze. The aurist sighed as her magic picked up on the man drawing in the dirt. She shook her head, "fool," she muttered under her breath as she sauntered into the center of the camp as though she owned the place. Drawing a look from the horse for a time, before it turned away, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that she was there. That she wasn't coming for it. Aello moved beside the remnants of a fire. Doesn't he know he should have put that mess out? she wondered as she pulled her bag off her shoulders and set it on the ground, before laying her father's old bow over it. Again the girl sighed as she glanced up at the sky, making a note of the sun's position, before hunkering down beside the pit. Deciding that she would wait for her prey to come within her reach, as opposed to needlessly expending her energy. But what to do now? she wondered as she pulled her daggers from their sheaths and willed her magic away. Her fists clutched the wire hilts firmly, marveling at their familiar weight. The sense of comfort they brought. It's only a matter of time... _______________________ A twig snapped, and there was a rustling of the bushes. Leaves trembled in overgrown man's wake. "Well it's about time you showed up," Aello called as her muddied eyes settled on Mac. "Been waiting long enough," she added as she got to her feet. "Strange, a man of the bog such as yourself can't even find his way back," she wore on, her tone playful. Mocking. "To a camp he made himself..." The girl's tongue ran over the roof of her mouth, producing a tsk tsking noise. "Shame, we could have finished this a long time ago," Aello wore on. Her eyes flashing with the sun's clippings; golden colored streamers reflected off dark surfaces just so. "And don't worry about the horse. It's not of any use." The girl paused, considering. "Could have taken it several chimes ago, but it's of a lesser make. Hooves can't get a good grip in a place such as this," she said with a wicked grin as she took a single, measured, menacing step forward. Beginning to close the gap which rested between herself and the older man.

[Jeremiah Maccabee]

She was a small woman, not much over five feet tall, and slender. Wavy chestnut brown hair flowed over her shoulders, neatly framing a bit of cleavage revealed by the peasant dress she wore that had probably been white at one time. In any other situation Mac would have turned on the charm and tried to get her into his tent and out of her clothes. But he was somewhat intimidated by the two long daggers she wielded with obvious skill. Frail and dainty she might look, but Mac had no doubt she could cut him into little pieces before he knew what was happening. He was not especially enamored with that prospect. “Little lady,” he said in as firm a voice as he could muster. “I sure hope you're not plannin' on skewerin' me with those toad stickers of yours.” Age and experience had taught Mac how to look and sound cool and calm even when he was scared spit-less. “I don't recall ever having wronged you. Hell, I don't recall ever having met you.” He held both hands out, bow in one hand and nothing in the other. “I'm pretty sure you'll find me better company alive than dead. And I'm real sure I'll find you better company if I'm alive than if I'm dead.” He cocked his head a little to the left and raised a quizzical eyebrow. Somehow he managed to add a hint of a smile. The forest was deathly silent. There was a buzzing sound in Mac's ear. His peripheral vision seemed to have shut down entirely, leaving him staring through a tunnel focused narrowly on the deadly woman standing in front of him. “It's your call.”

[Aello]

As a light chuckle escaped her lips, the vapors rose of the earth. Billowing out around each of their forms like a gaseous veil just begging to be blown away. Aello's eyes narrowed, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man behind the fog with more her muddied gaze than mastered magical art. "It could be because we haven't met before," the aurist responded cooly, before falling silent a moment, as the man kept on blathering on. Her eyes following the indistinct edges of his yellowing aura, betraying his fear. It was like a flickering flame, waiting to be snuffed out. She would have no problem helping it along... "Doesn't that depend on what sort of ghost you'd make?" Aello asked as she took another, single, menacing step forward. Her thumb gliding lazily over the hilt of her cursed blade. "One of the nice ones, out to aid the living. Or perhaps, one of the possessive, or even... a vengeful shyke." The final word rolled off her tongue as easily as a stream would flow over jagged boulder. Her eyes were sparkling dangerously as she continued to near. A lioness circling its prey. "Care to mention what an incompetent shyke is doing out here in the woods?" Aello asked, her tone icy. "Getting in over his head perhaps, after having heard a bit too much? After having nursed the bottle too dutifully, allowing disoriented rounds to settle into the dirt where crazed vultures picked?" the aurist asked as she took a step to the right, beginning the oblong trail she would take around the man's camp as her magic kept on searching. Taking in everything it could, so she would know the most painful way to end it all. After all, who didn't enjoy it when a man truly suffered for his crimes?

[Jeremiah Maccabee]

Mac's mind tried desperately to make some kind of sense out of her words but he couldn't. He couldn't because they didn't make sense. She was insane. Fear slowly gave way to the cold certainty that she was going to kill him and there was nothing he could do to stop her. Inexplicably, he wasn't afraid anymore. Somehow he had moved way beyond that. Or maybe he was just in shock. He couldn't tell and it didn't matter anyway. “Lady, you're just plain crazy,” he said matter-of-factly. “One of the wheels fell off your cart and now you're stuck goin' around in circles.” He slowly put his bow on the ground. Then his hunting knife. Then he took a step toward her with empty hands held out. He spoke slowly. “I don't know why you want to murder me. If you must, I probably can't do anything to stop you. But I wonder: Do you know why you want to murder me?”

[Aello]

Aello smiled wickedly. "Not really, but if you'd like to think so," she paused as she shrugged her shoulders, "suit yourself." The aurist fell silent after that as she continued to pace, watching the way the mist flickered, and then faltered. Her brow furrowed as she studied the creases. Something was not right. The young spiritist nodded solemnly. "I did, but it seems as though it wouldn't matter now. You haven't heard a thing, have you?" Aello asked as she stopped in front of him. Allowing the man to take everything in as she twirled her daggers one last time, before allowing them to settle into their sheaths. Her muddied eyes settled on Jeremiah's own. "Sorry, the lips do wander, don't they?" Aello muttered under her breath as she inched even closer to the wilderness guide and bent to gather his things. She handed the blade back first, and then the bow, before gesturing to it with her chin. "You don't know how to use either of these properly, do you?" she asked. "Judging by how you handled each, you've been trying to teach yourself, and it hasn't worked a bit." The girl chuckled easily. "Do you want a hand?" she asked. "Or would you prefer to come back empty handed, a second time? If you can find your way back again." Her eyes glimmered mischievously. After all, she did enjoy mocking him.

[Jeremiah Maccabee]

Her sarcasm was lost on Mac. His legs decided this would be a good time for him to sit down. So they collapsed and he found himself sitting on the ground looking up at the psychopathic girl. If she wasn't so short it would have been an awkward arrangement. Actually it was pretty awkward anyway but he didn't think his legs were ready to let him stand up just yet so he stayed where he was. “Less than a chime ago you were ready to chop me up into little tiny pieces of Mac-meat. I'm Mac by the way. Now you've decided I need hunting lessons instead. This is all happenin' a little fast for me sweetheart so give me a chime or two to work out the difference between my head and a hole in the ground.” A few chimes later Mac still couldn't tell the difference between his head and a hole in the ground, but he had managed to get back on his feet and rewarded himself with a long drink of water. “You're right about one thing, though,” he said. “Everything I know about bows and knives and hunting and making fires and not getting lost in the woods, I learned it all by myself. If you're offerin' to teach me a thing or two, I'm not too proud to take you up on it. Besides, I ain't got nothin' but rations to eat. It'd sure be nice to have somethin' that tastes like real food for a change. So yeah, I'll play along.”

[Aello]

Aello watched the gears and cogs in the man's head clicking together. Grinding against grains which served only to soil and wear down on the strips of smooth metal. Ultimately, tarnishing it to the point where it was no longer viable. With mind rendered useless, Jeremiah rose, allowing him to take rightful point at the tower. The girl's gaze ascended to meet his own. Aello shook her head lightly, fool... Aello took several measured steps closer. Her right arm rising in the last few instances. All of her fingers, save for the pointer, furling into her palm. An arm held straight bent at the elbow, receded, before pressing onwards, into the man's chest. She could see his flesh sinking beneath her nail's point. Like a gaping maw; it seemed to swallow her limb whole. "It won't be playing along, Jeremiah," the girl commented as she looked him right in the eye. Her tone bordering on thin ice. "When you yourself have admitted that you don't what the petch it is you're doing." The girl pushed her finger a little farther into the man's protrusion. Right above the place where he had once been hog tied to his mother's innards. "In one fashion or another," she finished with a small smile as she extracted her finger and returned her arm to her side. The girl's eyes glimmered as she took a few steps away, and quickly gathered her things. It took only a chime to get everything into place before she looked up. Her head rocking onto her right shoulder, long brown hair cascading down the length of her side. "Now about those rations..." "You said you wanted some real food," Aello commented as her thumb idly stroked the curve of her father's old bow. "So why don't we go get some?" she asked before gesturing at the camp with her free hand. "Just pick your poison and we can be on our way," she added before striding past him, into the thicket. "They've all been mastered, so it shouldn't be too hard, now should it?" she asked as her hips began to sway with her stride, now that she was going over a slight rise in the earth, which dipped away into a thin line of trees.