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| − | [ST] "Yes," the thing says from the mouths it does not have. Behind Fish, Elk screams in horror.
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| − | [ST] The Chimera lashes canvas wings wildly as it shuffles forward, a trio of glassy-eyed faces staring at the Once Dead. Their own faces. The hideous fusion of flesh buckles and writhes as it advances, lumps appearing beneath its rubbery skin, swelling and vanishing, its bones cracking as legs break, heal, and rebreak in its scuttling crablike motion. It makes a sound like layered moans, the
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| − | [ST] voices of the Once Dead overlapping as if in sexual ecstasy or pain or both. It staggers toward Fish, multiple heads lashing wildly, groaning.
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| − | [ST] "Yes."
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| − | [ST] "Yes."
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| − | [ST] Elk staggers backwards, looking into the eyes of the Otter-thing's backwards head, his own rippling, pleasured form. He gags, briefly, drawing his hunting knife with a flash of steel. Then, bracing himself, he races forward, swinging his blade in a vicious downward arc at "Otter's" lower back.
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| − | [ST] The creature skitters sideways on Elk's four limbs and Otter's two, bare feet leaving steaming impressions in the snow. Elk swears softly.
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| − | [ST] Meanwhile, the form of Winter Fish continues to grow from its rippling back, extending rubbery arms, flexing hands that are growing fingers as the other man watches. All ten are there, one glimmering with a circlet of gold.
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| − | [ST] "Yes."
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| − | [Fish] He would have been screaming with Elk if his voice hadn't frozen with the rest of him. The tent flap, wing, that he had been lifting so carefully slapped across his face as the creature reared back, Otter's contorted face moaning down at him.
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| − | [Fish] He scrambles back desperately, rolling to his feet and swinging his crossbow around, fumbling fingers loading it, and then again and properly the second time.
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| − | [ST] Back at the fire, as Hand-of-Ice and Otter continue to debate the merits of burning his newest eye away before investigating the Emerald ahead, Elk's scream rises sharp and harsh. Only two of Hand-of-Ice's eyes swivel towards the sound, but he's off and moving before Otter can call him back.
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| − | [Otter] Otter gets to her feet, moving far more slowly. The wound in her chest tugs painfully with every step. Her numb fingers fumble with her javelins as she moves after him, gasping harshly.
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| − | [Otter] She wants to call out to Elk, but she doesn't have the breath.
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| − | [ST] The Chimera gives a screeching cry like a cat on fire, mingled with Otter's and Elk's own voice. "Yes," it gurgles again, moving towards Elk as he drops into a defensive stance, sweat dampening the palms of his glove, knife held out defensively before him. The great canvas wings flap, and the thing springs at him. The fake Fish's mouth opens, and the thing launches something from it even as
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| − | [ST] Elk lunges to strike again.
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| − | [ST] Elk's own strike rebounds off the bony tine of one of its wings, failing to harm the creature at all. The chimera's attack hits home: Elk screams as a spike of bone bursts out of the back of his shoulder. It is tethered to a long chain of linked bones like vertebrae, extending from the open mouth of the Fish-thing.
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| − | [ST] There is a sound like bones snapping as the chain suddenly withdraws, yanking Elk along with it and into the creature's back. Fish's arms wind around him, holding him fast, and there is another crack as Otter's arms dislocate, twisting around behind her to embrace him. "With me," Otter says. "Yes."
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| − | [ST] With a scream, Hand-of-Ice leaps from the darkness, barrelling directly at the creature. A long knife is gripped in both of his hands, and it glimmers fitfully in the faint light of the fire as he brings it up and then down.
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| − | [ST] The thing backs way, cradling Elk to it like a treasured possession, hissing sharply. Hand-of-Ice screams a foul string of curses as ancient as his tribe.
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| − | [Fish] Fish scrambles to the nearest tree, and rounds behind it, using a low branch to prop his shaking hands and taking aim. It was a mockery of him, of them. A mockery that made his mouth taste sour with panic. The feeling of the crossbow's stock on his cheek calmed him, or at least stopped his hands, getting him back into the rhythms of shooting.
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| − | [Fish] The bow thwocked, almost surprising him, sending a bolt straight into the false-Fish, giving Elk anotehr scare.
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| − | [ST] The False Fish's voice goes silent for a moment as a bolt springs from its eye. The thing staggers backwards, giving a brief scream of pain in Fish's voice. Fish sees his own face fix him with a familiar, murderous expression.
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| − | [Otter] Otter staggers from the woods. She lets out a strangled cry when she sees the horror. Then- "Elk!" Her own face turns to her, caressing the captured Elk and sighing in pleasure .It was hard to comprehend it- Otter can comprehend only pieces of it; the spot where her hips entangle with Elk's, Fish's cold eyes emerging from her back...
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| − | [Otter] Revulsion flings the javelins forth, as much as her fingers.
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| − | [ST] Both of the javelins find their mark, quivering in the flesh of the thing's body, but they seem to neither hurt nor slow it. It begins to croon to Elk, its grip tightening, the chunk of bone piercing him twisting and turning in a way that reminds Fish of an ice boring drill.
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| − | [ST] With a desperate scream, Elk tears himself away from the creature, staggering backwards through the snow, dripping blood as he goes. Steam rises from his terrible wound.
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| − | [ST] As the creature follows after Elk, mewling hungrily, Hand-of-Ice moves to flank it, moving with difficulty on his bad leg. He gives a fierce grunt, lunging wildly at the false-Elk's face, stabbing downward.
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| − | [ST] The weapon enters the fake Elk's mouth, tearing out the side of his cheek in a spray of gore. He howls, bucking in pain, jostling the tower of pulsating flesh tottering above him.
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| − | [Otter] Otter staggers after it, flinging another javelin at the back of the fake Otter's head. "Stop chasing him!" she screams.
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| − | [ST] The creature stumbles clumsily sideways as Otter's weapon connects, gurgling wildly. The tip bursts from the false-Otter's forehead. When she opens her mouth to moan, nothing but blood flows, coursing down the creature's chin and slopping into the snow. It is the wrong color- red, but far too bright, like something from a painting.
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| − | [Otter] It looked less like her now. Good.
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| − | [Fish] Luck or fool, Elk was running towards him. He wanted to yell at the man to turn away, wanted to turn and run himself, but yelling would unseat the bow, and would be cowardly besides. Instead he curse in his mind, carefully loaded, and carefully sent anotehr bolt into the monster. Let it chase them with an arrow through its knee.
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| − | [ST] The bolt neatly clips through "Elk's" left knee, severing the leg in another burst of bright blood. The thing collapses, screeching violently.
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| − | [ST] "Yes..." it moans.
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| − | [ST] "Yes."
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| − | [ST] "Yes."
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| − | [ST] Elk grimaces, taking a step forward as he draws his weapon and hurls his knife. It tumbles end over end as it spins through the air towards the creature.
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| − | [ST] The knife lodges in the Otter-thing's left cheek, sinking up to the hilt. She howls Elk's name, clawing at her face, shredding it more. Blood courses down in a liquid mask, dripping onto the growing Fish-thing.
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| − | [ST] The thing rises with a lurch and charges on its three legs, carving a rough trail through the snow, shattering stunted trees and kicking up a rooster tail of blood and rock, bearing down on Fish. As it nears him, the bony tentacle emerges again, lashing savagely at his face.
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| − | [ST] But as it charges, another of its legs gives out, and it falls, the tentacle flying wildly to embed itself in the creature's own body, impaling "Elk" through the chest and pinning it to the earth. It gurgles and twitches like a rabbit caught in a trap, tearing at the earth.
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| − | [Fish] He stands his ground, ready to duck behind the tree at the last moment. No need. He grins, wicked with anger, pulling out his Ice Chisel. The thing would pay for wearing his ring, even on his own finger.
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| − | [Otter] Otter steps warily closer, a javelin clutched in her fist. She only had two left, so she darts forward, and jabs it through one wing. It tugs at the tentacle impaling fake Elk, and an ugly smile rises on Otter's face as she realizes it's near helpless.
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| − | [ST] Hand-of-Ice stands, breathing heavily, two of his three eyes closed, breath rising in hot steam. He doesn't react - now that the moment has passed, he seems once more gripped with indecision and agony over his condition.
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| − | [ST] Elk falls to his knees, pressing his hands to his wound, trying to hold back the flow of bright crimson. The blood steams as it hits the ground.
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| − | [Otter] "Die," she hisses at it, darting forward to strike it again, this time in her doppleganger's chest. "Die, die, die!" she chants as she thrusts again and again, until bright unnatural blood blossoms everywhere. She hits it until no piece of it is recognizable, then staggers away, wiping at the tears running down her face.
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| − | [ST] The thing gurgles plaintively as Otter tears into it again and again, reducing it to a mass of bloody, lifeless meat. hand-of-Ice swears softly.
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| − | [Otter] "It's dead," Otter says matter-of-factly. "I killed it." She turns her head. "E-elk?" She suddenly sees the true blood weeping from his wound. "Elk! Let me help!"
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| − | [ST] Elk stares down at the snow as Otter runs to him. He is shuddering with more than the cold.
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| − | [Fish] Fish steps out from behind the tree, taking mores steps on its wing than the ground as he makes his way to it. Otter could have its death, but he would cleanse its disrespect. He had a vague idea where the ring hand was, folded underneath the thing's mass of flesh and different torsos. He sets to work, chopping through the thing with rough, heavy, strokes, the thick edges iron of the chisel bludgeoning its way through as
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| − | [Fish] through as much as cutting. He cut his way through it methodically, reducing an area of it to bloody pulp, and then severing the offending arm mid-forearm.
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| − | [Otter] "N-no..." she whispers as she sees how much blood he's losing. She unwinds a scarf from her neck and ties it desperately around the wound. "Don't die, okay? I- I o-order you."
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| − | [Fish] The rest could burn, but he would bury his ring finger again. He glances round, finding a relatively flat rock, and then places the hand on it, like old times, striking down with the flat chisel-head to sever the fingers at the back of the palm, leaving the forefinger attached by a flap of flesh and the rest cut neatly.
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| − | [Otter] The most serious seep is stemmed. Aunt Fox would be pleased with the service of her scarf. The less serious gash Otter just claps her hand on until the bleeding slows.
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| − | [ST] Elk looks up at her with horror-glazed eyes as she presses on the wound. His blood is warm on her hands, then cold as the chill takes it. His breath comes from his lips in weak wisps.
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| − | [ST] "Why..." he manages. "Why did it look like... l-ike... that?"
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| − | [Fish] He collects the mockingly adorned piece of flesh, and turns back to the others, belatedly realizing that others had fought a rather different fight than he had, had been rather bady injured.
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| − | [Otter] Otter looks down. Her voice shakes. "I d-don't know," she says, even as she wonders whether the image had been ripped from her dreams. A shudder runs through her.
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| − | [Fish] He wraps it in a scrap of torn leather, to be buried later, privately. "How is he?"
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| − | [ST] "Is that... what you want?" He coughs at Fish's question. "I'll live."
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| − | [ST] "The wounds may be corrupted," Hand-of-Ice says flatly. "Might be better if you don't."
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| − | [ST] He still stands, staring out over the rise in the direction where the Emerald should be. There are no warm, inviting lights, only a gently sloping valley covered with skeletal trees.
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| − | [Otter] "You shut up!" Otter flares, grateful for the distraction. "It's not. And anyway, even if it was, Rabbit has that yellow spite."
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| − | [ST] Elk pales. Clearly this hadn't occured to him. "I don't hurt any differently than usual. I don't think..." He turns to look over Otter's shoulder. "Fish... if it has to be done..."
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| − | [Fish] "We need to move. I'm not sleeping near this." He left everyones greatest fear unspoken, that they had never left the Wyldfog, and they were all dead men, soon if not already.
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| − | [Fish] He nods at the man. "If its needed, and Otter won't, I'll make sure you die right."
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| − | [ST] Elk nods tightly. "Thank you. I can walk like this. The Emerald can't be far, right?"
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| − | [Otter] "Well, it's not needed, so you can just shut up too," Otter snarls, glaring at them all. No wonder the Fox thought men were poor leaders. They were so eager to kill their friends. "The Emerald may be a lie as well. We'll need to scout it."
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| − | [ST] Behind Fish, the corpse dissolves, the bright red of its blood reforming into incongruous spring flowers that stretch petals to the sky. They will wither with the frost in moments.
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| − | [ST] Elk struggles to his feet with a grunt, leaning heavily on Otter to help him.
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| − | [Otter] Fish was the only able-bodied among them. Hand-of-Ice was a Wyld mutant, but he would defend them. "Fish, go up ahead. Make sure it's not a trick."
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| − | [Otter] Munroe, her flying squirrel, emerges from her hood to sniff at Elk from her shoulder.
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| − | [Fish] He feels chill blood seeping into his pocket, and then the stab of hungry roots into his leg. He rips a peony from his pocket, blood tinging its roots, and curses that he had been denied his satisfaction.
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| − | [Otter] "No," Otter says cooly. "You would make an unwelcome emissary, if the Emerald is as we hope."
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| − | [Fish] His face settles into a harsh scowl, the day fit for nothign but a dark mood. "I'll go." And he would be sorely tempted to leave Otter and her wounded and her luck behind him to die. But he wouldn't.
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| − | [Fish] The ring had been another reminder of the last time he had betrayed people who had palced their trust in him.
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| − | [Fish] So he turns from this new group of fools and stalks into the woods, pulling his lined hood tighter over his head against the cold.
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| − | [ST] Fish advances down the slope as snow continues to fall around him. Some of it is not right - is feathers, or blood, or tufts of bright silk. He moves through skeletal trees, winding his way towards the path leading to the Emerald. Hand-of-Ice follows unbidden, at least silent enough to not be a threat.
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| − | [Otter] "Keep your hood up!" Otter shouts at Hand-of-Ice as he leaves.
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| − | [ST] Hand-of-Ice gives no reply. Elk grunts with what might be laughter.
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| − | [ST] "This should be the path," Ice says as he and Fish reach it. It is beaten earth, slick with ice, winding downward. Footing is difficult.
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| − | [Fish] Fish stalks ahead, not especially wanting to see the other man, liking neither his deformation nor his presence. He follows his directions though, he was not a fool.
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| − | [ST] The moon shines brightly over the ice below, and the form of the Emerald comes into shape. A central circular building, surrounded by a few rings of other thatch huts. Strange forms, seemingly made of ice, glimmer here and there. It's impossible to tell what they are from this distance.
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| − | [Fish] He stays low, making his way slowly closer, to get a better look. Not that he'd get within arms length this time. Unless the Emerald's people made a hobby of ice sculpture, nothing good waited on them here.
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| − | [ST] As he moves closer, Fish can see that the sculptures are in human form. No, they ARE human forms, shrouded lightly in a layer of ice, frozen in positions of utter agony.
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| − | [ST] "I recognize these people," Hand-of-Ice says. He sounds less upset about it than he might have a few moments before. "They lived here. That one..." and he points. "Is Rises-with-the-Sun."
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| − | [ST] The figure is a girl, young and not particularly attractive. Even through the sheen of ice, it is clear her nose has been broken many times. As Fish watches, something emerges from her open mouth, a fistful of tendrils like an ice barnacle. They probe briefly at the air, then retreat.
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| − | [ST] A moment's examination shows similar feelers emerging and withdrawing from each of the drozen figures.
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| − | [Fish] He nods slowly. "If the village is dead, it is better for us than what might have been here. Maybe our quarry tarried and died with the rest," he whispers. Then is proven wrong as the killers move within the dead. He turns, unsurprised but not wanting to watch. "Head back."
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| − | [ST] Hand-of-Ice nods, leading the way back towards the clearing.
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| − | [ST] Back at the clearing, Elk suddenly starts, moving away from Otter with difficulty. "I heard something over here," He says. "Something's moving through the underbrush-"
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| − | [Otter] Otter pulls a javelin from her quiver. Both of them wounded, she was aware. She should not have allowed Hand-of-Ice to leave. She should not have asked Fish to scout to begin with. Better they were not seperated. She curses quietly.
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| − | [ST] Otter feels cold steel press against her throat from behind. An arm pulls her back into an impressive bulk, tightening around her chest, and she hears a soft whisper in her ear, surprisingly gentle. "Don't move."
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| − | [Otter] Otter swallows. "Let me go."
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| − | [ST] Elk turns, his hand darting down towards his knife sheath in alarm - of course, the weapon isn't there, currently buried as it is in a growth of flowers. He opens his mouth to shout.
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| − | [ST] "No noises," the voice behind Otter says flatly. "Drop the weapon."
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| − | [Otter] Otter's jaw tightens. She thought she knew who this was. The deserter. The one who was not a fool. She drops the weapon.
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| − | [ST] "You too, Elk," the voice says again, and Elk looks as if he wants to defy it. "I don't want to cut her throat, but I will."
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| − | [ST] He reluctantly unfastens the belt around his waist, letting it and the other weapons fall away. The figure behind Otter gives her a gentle shove and steps back.
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| − | [ST] When she turns, she can see him - a big man, his face strangely hairless, with gentle eyes and the brown skin of an Easterner. Behind him stands a slight woman whose red hair hangs lank around a long-nosed face. A spray of freckles covers her cheeks. Her mouth is tight and morose, as if unused to laughter.
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| − | [Otter] She didn't need a weapon to kill them. She would poison their soup. Otter's eyes are narrowed and her mouth is flat.
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| − | [Otter] "You've left quite a trail of bodies behind you."
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| − | [ST] "Not our doing," Jondar says, shaking his head. "You didn't have to follow. We were trying... nevermind. They sent only two of you, then? I'm almost insulted."
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| − | [Otter] Otter's gaze lingers on Rabbit, and she smiles. She can convey a lot with an expression, when she has to. "We did have to follow. As you know. Well. Are you pleased with the fruits of your desertion?"
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| − | [ST] "You don't know what you're talking about, girl," Jondar says curtly. Sparrow can meet her gaze for only a moment before looking aside. "Sparrow is an orphan now. And a deserter. She didn't cause this."
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| − | [Otter] Otter abandons bullying Sparrow to focus on worthier prey. "What happened?"
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| − | [ST] "Surely you got the story," Jondar says, his eyes narrowing. "The Greenfield whore, abandoning her family for a life of riches. Getting Bright Eyes killed. Hated by Rabbit and Raven alike."
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| − | [Otter] Otter's frown deepens. "Yes, yes, her woes." She waves these away with a flap of her hands. "I am more concerned with recent events."
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| − | [ST] "Her father's Wyldwound was badly corrupted. Eating him from the inside out. Her mother, Fleet Doe... insisted that Sparrow join the Once Dead, to pay for the drugs he would need to stave it off."
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| − | [ST] "It was not proper," Sparrow says softly. "But he was my father. She was my mother."
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| − | [Otter] "You had not the strength to know your own mind," Otter notes coldly. "Very well.Go on."
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| − | [ST] "The Once Dead... were not fond of me." Sparrow looks down, rubbing her upper arm. "I don't know if I missed the icewalkers on the watch, or someone else did, but they blamed me... th-they..."
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| − | [ST] "You know what they did," Jondar says flatly. "Or you're no kind of raven hunters at all. You would never have found us. She still stayed. I wanted to protect her. When she heard her mother had died, she knew her father's condition would worsen. She came here to ease his pain, and end him. But..."
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| − | [ST] "We were too late. The Wyldwound erupted... and raw chaos emerged. The Yellow Spite had only been holding it back, letting it grow within him."
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| − | [Otter] Otter shudders. "Is he still alive?"
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| − | [Otter] That Emerald was Wyld-infested. She regretted sending Fish and Hand-of-Ice away all over again.
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| − | [ST] "No. The eruption killed him, along with everyone else. We were at his bedside... so it passed us over, warping the rest. Sparrow came here to save her tribe. Her father and her mother's stubbornness killed it, but she will be blamed. She will be called a deserter."
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| − | [Otter] "She IS a deserter. As are you!" Otter exclaims, glaring at him. "Did she do her duty to her people in the Emerald, or has she failed them as she failed her father?"
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| − | [ST] "They are dead, or else so changed as not to matter." Jondar says. "And she did not fail her fa-"
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| − | [ST] "I did," Sparrow says softly. "I should have killed him when he was wounded. As my mother should have. But we could not."
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| − | [ST] Does Elk tremble slightly, in the corner of Otter's vision?
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| − | [Otter] At least Sparrow had some idea of the magnitude of her fuck up. Jondar was an ignorant Easterner; it was said they bargained with the Wyld as much as fought it there, and went willingly into the fog to corrupt themselves.
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| − | [Otter] Otter glances at Elk, and her eyes become little ice chips. It was not the same. Not at all. His wound wasn't corrupted. She would make sure he knew that.
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| − | [Otter] "Are you prepared now to do what is honorable?" Otter asks Sparrow heavily.
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| − | [ST] She opens her mouth to speak, but Jondar talks over her.
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| − | [ST] "And what would that be? To return like a lamb to the slaughter?"
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| − | [Otter] "You fight for her. Do you speak for her as well?" Otter asks cuttingly.
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| − | [ST] "She should know what truths hide beneath your stiff-necked Haslanti honor," Jondar says, his voice growing heated for the first time. His curved blade trembles slightly.
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| − | [ST] "The same ones that got her into this state in the first place. Are they to be the rule of law only when they would kill her?"
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| − | [Otter] "Haslanti honor demanded she kill her father!"
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| − | [Otter] "A whole Emerald is dead. Worse than dead, Easterner," Otter says more calmly. "What is the law in the warmlands for that?"
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| − | [ST] "As you would, against your mother's command? Against the hope that he might live?" He laughs shortly. "The man next to you is wounded, and fresh, by the look of it. Will you kill him?"
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| − | [ST] "The death of the Emerald is tragic, but it is not what Sparrow wanted. She could not have imagined it-"
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| − | [ST] Sparrow's hands knot together, her fingers working nervously. She has not bothered to draw her weapon.
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| − | [Otter] "Excuses are wind. She knows what she did was wrong. Let her speak for herself."
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| − | [ST] Elk swallows, looking straight ahead. He does not respond to Jondar's comment, or any of this.
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| − | [Otter] There's a hard little lump in the center of Otter's chest. Elk's wound wasn't corrupted. She wouldn't let it be.
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| − | [ST] "I obeyed my mother," Sparrow says softly. "She said father could return to health. She said it would require a great sacrifice, and great secrecy. Rises-with-the-Sun agreed to help me. She was my best friend. And... they... I stayed with the Once Dead, even when they... I didn't... I didn't know." She trembles, as if on the verge of sobbing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I am sorry, but I did not KNOW! I swear it!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Does that really matter?" Otter asks softly. In the old tales, so had Twin Heart said when she murdered her son in the dark, and when Fallen Oak had married his sister. It had not mattered then.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She shakes her head, not even angry so much as bemused. "You take no responsibility?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I am responsible. I should have killed my father. I should not have listened to my mother. But... but... it was a mistake... I would never..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Enough!" Jondar snaps, stepping forward. He looms impressively over Otter. "What do you gain from tormenting the girl? Her life is already painful enough."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She looks up at him, by no means impressed by his size. "If you were not so ready to make excuses for her, perhaps I would not need to!" Otter snaps. "But justice must be done."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Justice," Jondar says, turning to spit in the snow. "No more fair than the justice that made me half a man. What would you have us do? Return with you to Icehome? Go through the farce of a trial? Die? That is what it means, you know."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She looks past him. "She must redeem her error. As for you- you knew the price when you chose the accompany her."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Damn your price," he turns and takes a few steps from her, head lowered. "It doesn't seem to me like you're in any condition to make us pay it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You want nothing but bodies to bring back to Ironheart. Proof that you're trustworthy."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "You're just trying to convince yourself it is fine and appropriate to murder former comrades," Otter says cynically. She shakes her head. "Without loyalty, what is any organization but a band of cutthroats and murderers?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "We knew we would be hunted. Would you fail to fight back if attacked? And do you really think Sparrow's death will solve anything?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Yes," Otter says squarely. "It would be some redemption of her honor. Perhaps Haslanti honor means nothing to you, but I suspect it means more to her." Her voice had gentled, but it hardens again as she abruptly asks him, "Why did you even go with her? She did not need you to do as she intended."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "She needed someone, damn you," he says, whirling angrily. "Her father and mother dying or dead, hated by her tribe and comrades. I came to protect her from the hunters I knew would come once she fled. I won't let you take her."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Fish is leaning into the trunk of a tree, close as he could wish. Listening, aiming, and waiting. The moment was soon coming. When Jondar was focused on his argument, but Sparrow was still wrapped in her sorrow. Jondar was the one to kill first, and she would be reeling from the shock of it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Sad stories, and horrible luck. A woman not tough enough to make the hard choices, do what needed to be done, and a man of all things had to stiffen her spine, run along to protect her. Well, they were nothing to him, and Jondar was right about one thing. They needed bodies for Ironheart. Especially after the series of disasters they had run through. Success redeemed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter's eyes are like flint. She backs slowly away. "Then I feel sorry for you," she says quietly. Inches from her weapon now. She'd only have to reach down to grab it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Of course, it was likely that Jondar, no fool, would kill her at once. She was too slow and too wounded. Perhaps it would be better to feign compliance, follow at a distance, and fall on them while they slept. Less worthy, however.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I'm not confident of your chances," Jondar says, watching her deliberately. "But I'm not sure of our own, either. Might be we'd kill you. Might be I'd get stabbed in the gut, or Sparrow would get killed. And... maybe... maybe this does need to be paid for. I was always a... loyal soldier, if not a good one."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Will you come with us then?" Otter asks quietly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I will. But only me. I go with you. You get your body for Ironheart. You tell them she died from Wyld exposure, you couldn't bring the body back. I die, she lives."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Jondar, NO!" Sparrow says, reaching out to tug at his hand. "Y-you're going to take me to Nexus, y-you're, you, you promised-"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You don't need me," he says to her quietly. "They won't come looking."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter wondered what Jondar saw in her to love. She had demonstrated no admirable qualities that she could see, and a eunuch had little use for prowress in bed. And now, perhaps, she was steeling herself to accept his sacrifice on her behalf.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] His finger relaxes incrementally from the trigger. It was a good deal if he was being honest. But why? Why had he gone with her and why give his life for her? Was this what half a man was reduced to? Falling past reason in love, and making flamboyant gestures for lack of any other consumation?
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I lost one set of daughters when I died the first time," Jondar says, fixing Otter with his gaze. "I won't lose another."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] They would have to guard him well. He was a competent one, when he was thinking. Their tribulations so far showed that well enough. But guarded, they should be able to keep him. And a Raven like that, maybe anotehr of them would die taking him down. Safer to accept his offer then, and almost as good with one body as two, and an outbreak of the Wyld as ample evidence of their other claims.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "No." Otter says, hard as iron. She meets his gaze. "I honor you willingness to sacrifice yourself for her. But-" she shakes her head, not quite sure how to explain the nest of duty, respect, and honor.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "She would not even truly be alive," she tries to explain to him. "Adrift with no ties of life to life-"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Of course, he couldn't accept the offer, had to wait for Otter to speak. If Jondar knew he was there, well, everything got more dangerous.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Fucking fool. Perhaps he would ahve to show himself, except even then there was no guarantee that she would give in.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "If it's a fight you want..." Jondar says flatly. "Then on your head be it. I did my last begging when they gelded me, but I would do it again if I thought it would save her life. If killing you is what it will take, then I will do that instead."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He glanced to the side. He could send Hand of Ice, but no telling what he would think. Hell they'd have to kill him to keep him silent if they accepted, and he might know that. Of course, he had to die by honor as well, same difference.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hand-of-Ice is motionless, introspective. Perhaps he's relating the events before him to his own condition. Perhaps he's focused on how he will never see his family again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Even if they wanted them both dead, the best way was to accept Jondar's surrender and double back to kill Sparrow later. No need to honor their promises.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter feels cold. "Very well." He would kill her. He didn't realize how hurt she was already- and Elk was as bad. But there were moments when a chief could be pragmatic, and moments when she could not. Somehow, knowing what had happened to the Emerald, she could not.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter throws herself backward through the snow. One of the javelins she picks up is the javelin she dropped; the other is oddly light in her hand, stained red by the chimera's blood.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Shit. He'd have to yell at her later. He would never let her lead a mission again, at least until she learned that heroics and gestures were for the living. He sighed, long and slow, timing the breaathing, timing the shot, and pulled the trigger.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Not for the head, nothing so fancy. He'd waited on Otter too long, and the fight was starting, so he would be moving. The center of mass instead. And it struck clean, into the back right at the heart. He saw it deflect downward off a rib. Probably got a lung, probably killed the man, but not yet. Damn.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] But he does not fall. Instead, he takes one step forward, and another, and another, strength building with each stride, his curved blade sweeping up. It flashes before Otter's eyes, as bright as anything, and somewhere distantly she hears Sparrow screaming.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter raises her javelin to catch the blade; she catches it with her forearm instead, and gives a strangled cry as the blade bites deep, scraping against the bone.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She staggers back a step and throws the javelin feebly with her wounded arm.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] At least it didn't have to go very far.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Jondar is still fast, even wounded, but he's not fast enough. He tries to deflect the javelin, dodging back, only to find it buried in his left thigh. He groans, a sound that seems to come from very far away. Bloody froth is bubbling out over his lips.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk and Sparrow stare at each other, he circling as best he can, cradling his wounded arm close to his body, she trembling, her blade shaking wildly in a fitful hand. As she sees Jondar wounded, she screams in sudden, desperate fury, charging Elk. There is the flash of knives dancing in the moonlight.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The two part, both breathing heavily, a cut running down Elk's left cheek.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hand-of-Ice lowers his shoulder and dashes forward, disturbing the skeletal trees. Fish's vision is temporarily obscured by wildly swaying branches.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Looking down the shaft of his next bolt, he can make out the movements of the battle through the moving branches, if not actually aim. When they steady, and he shifts to an opening in them, he can pick his shot again. Jondar was bahind a trunk now, so he would have to settle for Sparrow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] It was a difficult snap shot, and he made it well, but the arrow glanced off the shoulder guard of her armor.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter spares a single, terrified glance for Elk before she lunges backward another step. Kill him. If she just killed him, she could kill Sparrow and he would be safe.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Her javelin goes wide, landing thrumming in a tree just right of his head.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Jondar screams as the javelin misses, bloody froth bubbling from his lips. He staggers towards Otter, raising a weapon covered in his own blood. He barely seems capable of seeing her anymore as he swings the blade in a flat, clumsy arc at her head
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hand-of-Ice, silent, intent, charges at Jondar's back, putting the full force of his momentum behind his blade in an attempt to pinion the other man.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The blade bursts from Jondar's chest, spraying Otter's face with his blood. The man's eyes widen once more in shock, and then freeze in that position, forever unseeing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "NOoooooo!" Sparrow screams. Tears are already flowing down her face - have been, in fact, for the entire time the fight has been going on. As she watches, Jondar pitches forward, toppling off Hand-of-Ice's blade. With a scream like nothing human, she springs at Elk, even as he lashes out at her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter takes a step back, her head still ringing from Jondar's last blow. Blood is in her mouth. "T-thank you" she stutters, as Hand-of-Ice withdraws his blade from Jondar with a squelching sound.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk backpedals just in time, Sparrow's blade flashing past his eyes by mere inches.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He reloaded fast and sure, without looking away from the fight. No space for worry for the moment, emotion was for the battle's end. He saw Jondar die, just as he was slotting the bolt in. Sparrow to go then. He turned himself slightly and steadied his aim. Wait for her attack's follow through, when she'd be moving predictably, ratehr than fire too soon to save a comrade and miss. There. His figner tightened slowly, s
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] His finger tightened slowly, smoothly, as he breathed out.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] But no, competent as ever she slips and the arrow rings off the same pauldron as his last.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter pulls her javelin out of Hand-of-Ice's thigh and sends it sailing through the air toward Sparrow, still wet with Jondar's blood.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She groans in agony when it merely glances of the woman's armor. "Elk didn't kill Jondar!" she shouts. "I did!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hand of Ice moves to flank the struggling Elk and Sparrow, eyes flickering between the rapidly moving combatants. Timing his attack carefully, he leaps between them, swinging his blade at the base of her neck.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Well, she hadn't, but there was no need for Sparrow to know that. 'Elk didn't kill Jondar, Hand-of-Ice did!' sounded less attention-getting to her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hand-of-Ice's blade glances off the pauldron of her armor as well. Sparrow's simply moving too fast, too erratically, for any trained fighter to follow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Do you love him, then?" Sparrow screams, her eyes wide, crazed, a thin trickle of blood flowing from her nose. "Do you?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] There's the clash of blade on blade, and the two part, once more unharmed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Then maybe I should kill him RIGHT NOW!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Stop it!" Otter screams at her, casting around for another javelin. When she doesn't see one, she grabs Jondar's wide curved blade.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Patience, patience, he tells hismelf. Even more with a bow than a blade, when a stray arrow could kill almost anyone but your target, rushing was horrible foolishness. It was hard to keep himself steady, in rhythm, but he had hardened himself to it, and stuck to that discipline. Watch, reload, time the moment. Again, the string thwocked, almost a surprise to his focused mind.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] And again, her erratic movement sent his perfectly aimed bolt into her Pauldron. But this time, it deflected downward into her, and he could smile a cruel smile.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter charges through the snow, the blade swinging in front of her. It was too heavy for her; her arms trembled from fatigue and the steady trick of blood falling from the deep cut on her wrist. She doesn't so much attack Sparrow as slam into her, Jondar's blade held in front of her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hand-of-Ice joins the attack, approaching from the other direction, trying to smother Sparrow with sheer force. The strength of her manic resistance must surely be ebbing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Do what is honorable," she pants, too weak to truly press the attack.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You should have left us alone!" Sparrow screams, slamming her shoulder into Hand-of-Ice and forcing him away. His blade finds only air. "You should have let us GO!" She lunges at Elk, blade flashing toward his stomach.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk blocks the attack, his blade flashing up to shield him, but he's badly off balance.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Again and again, the same process, the same rhythm. Watch and load, decide and aim, wait and fire. This time he was thrown off slightly, reaching for a bolt and his finger hit the lip of the quivver instead. It was nearing half empty, and he had used all the bolts lined up to the top edge. This fight had gone on too long. A breath to steady himself, and then back in, find the firing point, and release.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He overcorrects this time, and misses low, the bolt running clean through the meat of her thigh.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter flails feebly at her with Jondar's heavy blade.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "No!" Sparrow screams, as she takes yet another wound. "No! No! NO!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hand of Ice slips behind her once more, tensing himself before lunging for the small of her back.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Sparks fly wildly as his blade once more glances off. Sparrow lunges forward at Elk once more, taking a shallow cut along her cheek as she lunges... and buries her weapon up to the hilt in his stomach.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk jerks back, pulling himself free of the weapon, his hands cradling his wounded midsection... and collapses.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "How does it feel?" Sparrow screams as the man falls. Spittle flies from her lips and into Otter's face. "How does it feel? HOW DOES IT FEEL?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] This woman just would . . not . . die. He gritted his teeth, having to fish for another bolt. It would have been scary if she wasn't falling apart so pathetically as she fought. The Wyld was playing with them all still. The arrow clicked in, the trigger clicked out, and it flew.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter stands frozen. "You ...vile...bitch..." she whispers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Sparrow looks down, blood coursing down her chin as she sees Fish's bolt sprouting from her chest. She looks up from it, her eyes focusing on Otter's face. "How... does it feel..." she whispers. "How does it feel... to be.... dead." She pitches forward, falling face down and motionless in the snow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter runs over the deserter's corpse to Elk's. "Don't be dead," she whispers in agony, fumbling at his throat for a pulse.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk's pulse is still beating, but weakly. He's covered in his blood again, and hers, and Sparrow's. There can't be much left in him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hand-of-Ice takes a moment to spit on the fallen Sparrow. "Bitch," he hisses. "May your ancestors teach you what living flesh could not."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "He's alive!" Otter shouts, her voice shaking. "Can you- can you look at his wounds?" Her hands shook so much she couldn't tie a bandage, much less sew up anything that needed sewing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] Fish comes creeping out of the woods, slow, tired, but rpoud. "Fucking finished her, eh? He still alive?" he asks, surprised as Otter fusses over Elk.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] "Let me try my hand at it. I've a steady hand, even if I've had no call for sewing before."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hand-of-Ice shrugs as Elk bleeds out. "I'm no medicine woman."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter glares at Hand-of-Ice. Ass. "Thank you," she says to Fish quietly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Will he live?" Hand-of-Ice asks, not bothering to look. He gives Jondar's body a particularly solid kick. "Maybe you Greenfielders are tougher than we give you credit for."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He kneels down, and collects the gut thread that Otter offers him. He wrinkles his nose at the wound, blood over smelly unwashed flesh. Odd, but he hesitated to pierce flesh now. With half a laugh, he set to work. Survival always brought good cheer to him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk lies silent and unresponsive, only his thin breathing giving off any indication he is alive. Flakes of snow fall and melt on his feverish brow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "What did you find at the Emerald?" Otter asks, sinking down beside him, exausted.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He shrugs. "The only thing alive there is what ate them, if that."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Anything that needs to be killed?" She wondered if there was a new wyldzone in what used to be an Emerald.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I don't think they're still alive," Hand-of-Ice says, his voice tight. "At least, not so you'd know it. But there is something that needs to be killed. Something tainted."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "We'll have to send an airship with fire, or a party of warriors from Fort Bear. We're too injured."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He hesitates, then slaps the man on his back. "Sounds like a proper way to go, doing something that needs to be done. We can help, from afar." He pats his bow. It truly would be better if Hand-of_Ice died, and even he knew it. This would just help him to decide to end it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "How many are there?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Dozens, at least. But they do not seem to move. Perhaps they will die on their own, as the Wyld eruption faces away... or else they are rooted to this place, in a way no fire can cleanse. But I... I can still be killed." He shakes his head, as if hesitating now that the moment is here.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "My comrades, you have fought by my side as bravely as any warriors I have known." He reaches out to place a hand on Otter's shoulder. "I regret our harsh words, but not our meeting. I regret my illness, but not the aid I have given you. Please. End this for me."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter is silent for a moment, the nods. "We will honor your wishes in this matter." She bites her lip and fights a stupid urge to cry like a girl. It subsides in a moment, leaving her stone chief's face in place. "We will bring tales of your honor and heroism back to your wife and son. I have known no more courageous warrior. How do you wish it done?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "My wife and son need no tales of my valor, Otter." For the first time, he calls her by name. "Only give her the totem, and tell her that it is truly my wish that you give it to her."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He sets back on his heels slightly, still crouched over Elk. It seemed strange to him, a man deciding to die like this. But he could see the reason in it. In this case anyway. The dead greenfield that they had seen stood in mute testamony to the danger of the Wyld.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter nods. "I will."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Then there is nothing more to discuss. Which of you will aid me in this?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The eye in his cheek has become a little more lively; it blinks fitfully as tears from the eye above course into it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] The task was properly Otter's, but there was no more strength in her arms to do the job quickly. "Fish would do it best," she says quietly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Then let him." Hand of Ice kneels, reaching out to take her bloody hand in his own. "And do not bury me here, in this blighted place. Carry me away. Burn me."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He nods. "I have a steady hand." He hesitates, "by bow, or as a lord would go, by blade?" Painless or with useless honor? Ah well, not his choice to make, none of it was or the decisions would be far different.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "We will," she promises, gripping his hand tightly. She nods to Fish and fixes her eyes on her warrior's face.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Dead is dead," Hand-of-Ice says with a stiff laugh. "Unless you're a Greenfielder. Just finish it fast. Even I can lose my nerve."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He nods. The bow then. Less blood to deal with, and easier to transport a corpse that was whole rather than one with the head hanging half off. He had killed manny, if not so many as some of the other Ravens, but this was the oddest. There was no battle to be won, or profit, or anything really. He took a deep breath and steadied himself to it. Once the bow was in his hands, the old rhythms ran. Thwock and it was don
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He took a deep breath and steadied himself to it. Once the bow was in his hands, the old rhythms ran. Thwock and it was done, Hand-of-Ice's head now having only two eyes and an arrow hole.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The man's grip tightens on Otter's for the brieftest of moments, and then he slumps forward and stills, as if he has fallen into a deep sleep.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "We'll have to make a sled," Otter says quietly, still holding on to Hand-of-Ice's hand. And Elk would have to sleep next to a dead man for part of the way home. Oh well. No helping it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "I'll get the tattoos." She staggers to her feet and walks, very slowly, to their corpses.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] "I guess we will ahve to spend the night out in the woods." He didn't want to, especially with the residual Wyld taint, but it was better than the town and the other alternatives. "Get some rest, and we can make a sled in the morning, or hell, chance stealing one from the town."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Yes," she agrees. "That is wise." She raises a knife to start skinning Sparrow and drops it, cursing. That could wait til morning too.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] The next day was hard. There was nothing useful in the Emerald itself, not even a sled that could be trusted, only a sparkling thing of ivory and curling ice that Otter had ultimately set fire to. Instead, they cut down limbs of trees, shaved them into crude blades, and manufactured a sled the slid across the snow, though not easily.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] They packed Hand-of-Ice's body on one half and a feverish Elk against him and pulled the sled together up the mountain. Otter helped - as much as she could- but it was Fish who provided most of the labor.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Fish] He rolls his eyes, finally she would accept that, and now was not the time for the self-pity he heard.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] They burned Hand-of-Ice on the crest of a wooded ridge, when they first started to hear the cries of birds again. It is not the grand funeral he had earned, but the short, decent affair that was the typical result of a death in the field. Otter chanted and prayed for the favor of the gods as his pyre burned and buried his ashes under a tree with his knife and clothing.
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| − | [Otter] She cried, privately, once the fire had burned out.
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| − | [Fish] Fish watched, added his own few words, for he had not know the other man well, and did not truly feel the respect that Otter seemed to. Beyond that, he followed her directions as to customs, no harm in that, but it all seemed odd to him, far from the funerals on sea or ice, when flames were anathema.
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| − | [Fish] It lightened his load at least. This was more a job for Kekkonen, or Beast at least. Their fallen comrade dealt with, all that was left was the long slog back, with all its attendant dangers. Life truly was mean out of the cities. He would be glad to get back.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk remains silent and feverish throughout the trip back, only beginning to return to clarity as the Once Dead return to the Greenfield. He is weak and doesn't eat much, but it seems he will pull through. He even laughs at the occasional weak jest, and his wounds show no sign of festering with the Wyld.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] After the rigors of cross-country travel, the difficulty of trapping, the desolate, frigid nights, the Greenfield makes for easy travel, not to mention much warmer. In some places snow has melted away to reveal cold ground at midday, though it will soon be snowed over again. After another day of travel, the Once Dead find themselves in the shadow Fort Bear once more. The ramshackle sprawl
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| − | [ST] of tents around it has diminished in size somewhat, but many tribes are still represented there. The holy fire burns brightly above in the stone bear's maw.
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| − | [Otter] "I'll talk to Thoughtful Deer," Otter tells Fish glumly. Elk was passed out again. "Do you wish to find an inn at Fort Bear or camp with the Walrus?"
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| − | [Fish] He grins, happy to be back to something resembling a city. "An inn, please, I could use a real bed under me." And a woman, too, or in the morning perhaps. The tribespeople sometimes got sensitive about whores as well, from what he knew.
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| − | [Otter] She nods. "There can't be many in the city. I will find you, unless you care to speak with Deer as well."
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| − | [Fish] He shakes his head, happy to be free of her company. To long traveling together, and small tensions grew. The way she chewed, the sounds of her sleeping, in the vast open wild, small sounds had gnawed at him.
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| − | [Otter] She almost smiles again at his expression. "Check for fleas," she advises him as she turns away. She had grown somewhat used to sleeping without fleas in her time away from Fox-and-Bear.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She trudges up the hill and looks for Thoughtful Deer's tent.
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| − | [Fish] He laughs. If that was the worst he caught from his plans, he would be glad enough for it. He shoulders the sled rope once again, and sets out for the fort gate.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] The Rabbit camp is somewhat subdued - many aghars are gone as people slip away from the festivities to manage their herds. Those that remain belong to the more crafts-minded of the Rabbit people, or elders, or those who wait for news, as Thoughtful Deer does. It takes Otter a few tries to find her tent, but soon she spots it. A look inside confirms that it is her braid that hangs from the wall.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Thoughtful Deer kneels with her back to the tent flap, busily mending a leather jerkin.
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| − | [Otter] In spite of everything, it still smarts to see her braid hanging from the fabric. "Thoughtful Deer," Otter says quietly, her face very grave. "May I come in?"
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| − | [ST] The woman does not turn to see it. All Otter can see of her is her back, shrouded by her dark hair, and the soles of her moccassins. "The noisy woman my husband bested, is it? Yes, come in."
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter comes in. She glances around for the boy, but doesn't see him. She kneels on a stretched piece of animal hide and waits for Thoughtful Deer to turn to her.
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| − | [ST] Thoughtful Deer takes her time before putting her work down. She still does not turn. "My fool husband has gotten himself in... in some sort of trouble, hasn't he?"
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| − | [Otter] "He died," Otter said quietly. "He saved my life. I- I am sorry. He gave me this totem, and said he truly wished you to have it."
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| − | [Otter] She brings the totem she had carried carefully through the cold from her pocket.
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| − | [ST] "I... I knew it..." the woman's voice is brittle. "Somehow I... I-" Her shoulders hitch once, twice. She doesn't turn around.
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| − | [Otter] Otter's hands curl in her lap. Such grief, and nothing she could do to heal it. What words would help her if it had been Elk who died?
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| − | [ST] The woman turns around at last, hurriedly wiping away her tears. The tribes of the Outwall are strong. "He... wanted me to have something?"
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| − | [Otter] "Yes." Otter pretends not to notice her tears. The totem lays in her open palms, and she offers it to Thoughtful Deer.
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| − | [ST] Deer looks down at it for a moment, hesitating. "This... he wanted me to have this? He told you to give this to me?"
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| − | [Otter] "Yes. He said to tell you that he truly wished me to give this to you." Through the somberness of mood, Otter feels the touch of curiosity. She had thought it some tie of their marriage. Clearly it was otherwise.
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| − | [Otter] "Anyone could see the strength of your bond," she says hesitantly.
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| − | [ST] She sighs briefly, then seems to gather herself. "Very well. It was what he wished, and I honor it..." At Otter's words, she raises a hand. "Please. Do not. I know you mean well, but I cannot-" She pauses, smoothing down the front of her leather leggings.
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| − | [ST] "You are Spritely Otter, yes? Of the... Once... Dead, of Icehome? I wish to know who my husband thought it worth dying for."
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| − | [Otter] "Spritely Otter, of the Once Dead and the Fox-and-Bear."
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| − | [ST] "And I can find you there, in Icehome? Should I have need of your aid? You will honor my husband's memory?"
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| − | [Otter] "I will, Thoughtful Deer. If misfortune reaches me, send word to Cunning Fox or Old Bear, and they will aid in my place. The Walrus can reach either easily enough."
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She bites her lip. "I am aware what I owe to your husband. I will do whatever I can to honor his memory."
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| − | [ST] "Thank you. I am glad to hear it." She smiles, but it has little energy. "Now, please, leave me. I must tell my son."
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| − | [Otter] She nods her head in a deep bow and quietly departs the tent. She still wondered what the totem signified, but it was not her task to engage in idle curiosity.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Well. At least there was a warm, flealess bed waiting for her at Fort Bear.
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| − | | |
| − | -----
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| − | [ST] "Motherrrr..." Little Jackal protests some time later, as he ties off the leather sack that contains his few possessions. It has been a week since his father's death. He has adapted. The tribes are strong, but it is not easy. "She's a Greenfielder!"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "She is not a Greenfielder," Thoughtful Deer says, rolling up the skins of the aghar. "She is of the Fox and Bear tribe, and even were se not, do you not trust your own father? He told her to give the totem to us."
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| − | [ST] "But she- she can't-"
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| − | [ST] "She can. She must. The custom is very clear. She is my death wife now." Thoughtful Deer places her hands firmly on her hips. "She will take good care of us."
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