Hunters

Dark, here in the forest, and noisy too, if you didn't know what to listen for. This place was alive, and living things spoke. Reia knew that. Everyone did. Children of the land knew, but those who lived in the metal and stone places forgot. And forgetting here was dangerous.

Reia crouched down low, close to the ground, bow in one hand and arrow in the other. Her pointed ears flicked and swiveled, one one way and one the other. Around her, she could hear her packmates ready their weapons. Knives slid out of leather holsters. Arrows were nocked, bowstrings tightened. But those were tiny noises. She heard the animals around them, the birds up in the trees above them, the ground creatures slithering and prowling over loam and leaf. Insects buzzed. She flicked her ear to chase one mosquito away. 'Little vampires', she called them, for they sucked blood just like the Ximians, though the little ones were more easily dealt with. And there, far off, she thought she heard the distant rumble of a wurm working its way through the trees.

Reia looked up to the branch above her. Rahnn, the pack leader lifted his hand, his eyes focused on some other place. Reia heard it, the snap-crunch of feet on twigs and ground. Feet in boots, the feet of man. Reia made the hand-sign for mage to one of the watchers in the trees and followed with the sign for a question. No, he signed back. Guns.

The sound of footfall grew louder. Rahnn sniffed, flat nostrils flaring, and Reia could smell too the artificial stench of man,all oil and the bright, sharp smell of metal. The leader lifted his hand, just a little higher, and held it there until the sounds of men were almost upon them, so loud they drowned out the other sounds of the living forest. Rahnn closed his fist. Now.

Reia leapt out from behind the tree and let her arrow fly. She caught a man right in the chest, and he went down with a watery gurgle. Arrows soared around her, shouts and yells filled the air. War cries from her pack mates, something else in the tongue of men. Crack-boom and smoke and burning filled the air. Reia dove to the ground and let the uneven ground and shriveled plants protect her from the guns. She'd seen many good elves die to the guns before, and once a bullet had stuck in the leg of one of her pack mates. They hadn't been able to heal it, and the wound went bad and the elf lost his leg. Better than losing a life, but Irah couldn't hunt or fight anymore. A liability, and all because of the men.

The men had fallen back now, long guns raised to their shoulders or small ones held out in their hands. Rahnn stayed above in the tree, shooting down arrows and calling out to his pack. “Kill the long guns first!” he cried. “Stay hidden!” Reia didn't need twice telling and nocked an arrow where she lay in the dirt. She held her bow sideways and fired. The arrow hit a man in the shoulder and he dropped his gun, cursing in his harsh language. He stumbled backwards and reached with his good hand to the small gun at his hip. Reia was on him before he could get it out, long knife in her hand and war cries on her lips. She snarled at him, bared her teeth, and stuck the knife in his throat before he could shoot her. His blood poured out, hot and sticky. She pulled the knife out, shoved him down with the rest of his dead companions, and dashed behind a tree before the bullets found her.

“Go!” Rahnn shouted. He jumped down from his branch and landed on the ground on all fours, wide fingers splayed and hoofed feet squelching into the soft ground. Reia looked back at him and gave him a tight smile. If he saw he didn't acknowledge, and he ran forward with his blade in hand.

There weren't many men left now, and they looked to be on the verge of running. Good. Let them run. Let them flee back to their old and broken home and never set foot in the forest again. A poor hope, but Reia wished it every night.

The gunshots were fewer now, but no less deadly. Rahnn danced from tree to tree, leaping out at men with his blade, cutting them down while the rest of the pack boiled out and surrounded the men. One of the last men dropped his gun and fell to his knees, head to the ground and hands clasped over his neck. The others fired their last bullets and ran.

“Run!” Rahnn shouted after them in the men's own language. “Run!” They ran, but they didn't need Rahnn's encouragement. “Well fought, my pack,” he said to them in the native tongue. “Another day won.” Reia joined her pack mates in cheering. Her heart swelled with pride for Rahnn. Another victory at his hands.

“What shall we do with this one?” a pack mate asked, prodding the face-down man with one hoof. The man trembled and said something.

“I say we kill him,” said old, scarred Lom. His hair and fur had started to go grey, and his backswept horns were long and gnarled. “He's no use to us.” Lom drew his knife and grinned. The scar down the side of his face and through his blind eye stretched. “Let me.”

“No,” said Rahnn. “We take him.”

It was an odd decision, but on the battlefield the pack leader's word was law. So they bound the man's hands behind his back with rope and removed all weapons from him. The dead men were piled into a single grave and covered over. It was more than they deserved, but leaving them out to rot for the carrion beasts to find would be worse. The elves bore their wounded back with them to their village, and Rahnn himself lead the bound man. Reia walked behind him, knife at her side and ears alert. She wasn't fool enough to think that the danger was past now that the men had been beaten back.

“They'll come back,” she said to Rahnn as they walked. “They always do.”

“We'll be ready for them,” he said.

“And what if they bring mages next time? Can we fight them?”

“There are few enough mages in Mordania,” he said. “I do not think we will be troubled by them.”

Reia didn't want to argue with him about that now. Not on the road. Rahnn wouldn't listen anyway. He was too confident, too stubborn. Perhaps that was what she liked about him.

Dusk was falling by the time they reached the village. One nightfire had already been lit and several elves sat about it, cooking dinner and swapping tales. A cheer went up for the successful warriors when they returned. Rahnn took it all in, all smiles and laughter. Elves backed away from the man, but Rahnn assured them that it was not dangerous. “Get some food,” Rahnn said to Reia. “I'm bringing this one to the elder.”

But Reia wasn't hungry. So she followed Rahnn to the elder's place, a dome-shaped structure made of woven tree branches and dead leaves. The inside was decorated with rugs and the polished bones of a wurm that the elder had killed in his youth.

“Young Rahnn.” The elder rose. His horns were decorated with beads and feathers. The elaborate headpiece was the only extravagant piece of clothing on him, the rest of it all ordinary furs, cloth and woven plant. “And Reia.” His eyes flickered to the bound man. “Why have you brought one of them here?”

“He surrendered,” Rahnn explained. “I thought it might be a useful thing. I can speak a few words of their tongue, and others in our village more. We might learn things from him. Why they are here. Information to use against them.”

The elder steepled his fingers and considered the man before him. It stood behind Rahnn, looking tired and dirty and scared. He opened his mouth and spoke, but it was just noise to Reia. Water over stones. The elder either didn't understand the man or ignored him. “We know why they are here,” the elder said. “They want our land. This was not a wise decision, Rahnn. I do not like this. A man amongst our village...”

“Let him be kept under guard,” Rahnn said. “He will not be able to find his way back to his country, I am sure of it. Please. He surrendered, and it would not do to kill him.”

“Indeed,” agreed the elder. “Very well. He will be watched over day and night, and if he tries to escape, he will be killed. It will be your responsibility to find out what you can from him, Rahnn. But do not do anything foolish. We are at war with them, after all.” The elder sank back to the ground and sat cross-legged on one of his woven rugs. He waved a hand, the sign for dismissal. So they left. Rahnn delivered the captured man to two warriors, and the man was kept in a small shelter with guards outside.

“Did you consider why he surrendered?” Reia asked Rahnn once the task was done and they had taken roasted bird and small cakes from the cooks at the fires. “The others, they fight to the death or run. Only he put down his guns.”

“He feared for his life,” Rahnn said. He bit into the round cake and chewed. “Fear is a strong force. Perhaps he was just a coward. He just wanted to live instead of fight.”

“I do not like it,” Reia said. “I fear this. Perhaps he will find his way back, or lead others here somehow.”

“If he escapes, we will kill him,” said Rahnn, “simple as that.” He smiled and favored Reia with a kiss on the mouth. “Do not worry.”

They spent the night together in Rahnn's shelter. The night was cool, so she gladly accepted his offer. Nights were always warmer when there was someone to share them with. She lay next to him, both of them naked, skin and fur touching. She ran her hands along his horns, feeling the familiar ridges and grooves along their curved length. “You're very lucky, you know,” he said to her. “You're the only one who's touched my horns.”

“I should hope so,” she said back to him. His hands were resting on her bare waist and they were very comfortable there. “It's sacred.”

“Mmm. Just keep doing it.” He kissed her gently.

“Rahnn. You don't think...the man...”

“Oh, stop.” His grip on her waist tightened and he flipped her over so she was on her back and he loomed over her, his long, matted hair tumbling over his shoulder and tickling her face. “You worry too much.”

“You don't worry enough.” She squirmed under his grasp, but had to bite back a grin.

“It's never been a problem for me.” He kissed her in the hollow of her neck as his hands worked lower and lower, closer between her legs. The hairs on the back of her neck and the fur on her lower legs tingled, down to the tips of her hooves. “It shouldn't bother you.” Whatever protest she had was drowned out by the touch of his lips, and was then utterly forgotten as he entered her. She held him close, fingers digging into his back as she listened to his breath in her ear. When they'd finished she curled up close to him, pressing her face against his shoulder. Fool, she thought. This won't help us. But if anyone can make something of it, it's you. Prove me right.

“What are you thinking of?” he asked her. His voice was slurred, his eyes dark and lidded.

“Only you,” she murmured.