Blood Ties

The three hunters crouched low in the long shadows cast by the scrub brush a few dozen yards from the water's edge. The natural screen provided by the tenacious plants also served to obscure their vision, but with the eyes and ears of two elves at their disposal Morwyn was more than confident they would be able to locate any prey... if there was any to be had. They'd remained in place for over an hour after their careful approach and nothing larger than the odd scrawny hare or bird had disturbed the water of the oasis in the dying sunlight. Ambush hunting in such a way was far different than the spot-and-stalk method she'd been taught in the mountains of Skeldrûn and boredom was beginning to worm its way under her skin.

“Maybe we disturbed the larger game on the way in,” she whispered, idly stroking the fletching of her nocked arrow. “Should we see how many hares we can take? Something is better than nothing.”

“Patience,” Yvonne said quietly. She held a finger to her lips, her brows furrowing in disapproval, then tapped the pointed tip of one of her ears. “I can hear something approaching. Slow and tentative, but heading this way for certain. Keep still.”

A few agonizing minutes later, Eronir perked up slightly then froze in place. Without raising his hand he pointed three fingers at an angle off to their right, on Morwyn's side of their hiding spot. She strained her eyes against the gray haze of dusk and was eventually able to make out several deer-sized animals as they nervously approached the water's edge. Excitement flooded through her veins as she focused intently on the animals. Prior to their arrival at the oasis the group had decided that she was to loose the first arrow, as Yvonne was both the superior archer and had far better vision at night, so Morwyn put a small amount of tension on the bowstring to keep the arrow from rattling and shifted carefully into a kneeling position. She sensed that Yvonne had done the same beside her.

Seconds that felt like hours passed as she waited for them to wander closer, but soon the nearest of the creatures paused broadside in front of a gap in the brush. Morwyn raised her bow, careful to avoid knocking the limbs or the arrow against the twisted branches before her, and drew back until the fletching kissed her cheek. The rest of the world faded into the background as she focused entirely on her form and the unsuspecting animal. Three heartbeats passed before she loosed, and the string slipped effortlessly from her gloved fingers. Before the arrow even struck her target she knew that it would find its way home in blood.

The arrow hissed through the air and impacted the animal just behind the front shoulder with a meaty thwack, followed by the sharp crack as it passed cleanly through its body and impacted against stone on the other side. The animal jumped in surprise and made to sprint away but crashed into the ground nearby where it kicked up dust and stones in its death throes. Yvonne, who leapt clear of the brush the moment Morwyn's arrow made contact, tracked one of the other creatures as it fled with incredible speed and loosed an arrow that struck it at the base of the neck. Its body went stiff as if struck by a lightning bolt and it tumbled into the water of the oasis head over tail, snapping the shaft that protruded from its spine as it did so. The third and final animal, unscathed, crashed through the brush on the other side of the pond and disappeared.

Giddy with the success of their hunt and salivating at the prospect of fresh meat, Morwyn shared a grin with Yvonne, though her excitement was quickly tempered by the wary look on Eronir's face. The man stood tall and glanced around in all directions as he gripped his spear firmly with both hands.

“Well done to both of you, but let's not let our guard down,” he murmured. “The noise and scent of blood will not have gone unnoticed.”

Agreeing with his caution, Morwyn calmed herself for a more muted celebration. She gave Yvonne a respectful nod, which the elf returned graciously.

“Good shooting. I've not seen someone land a hit like that on a moving target.”

“All those years of trick shooting for coppers has finally paid off,” Yvonne said with a chuckle as she ran a thumb along the limb of her longbow. “Eronir is right though, we should get to butchering them quickly. Are you any good with that knife of yours?”

Without wasting time to respond, Morwyn slung her bow over her quiver and drew the short blade. It glinted in the pale light of the moon that was just beginning to crest the horizon. She tested the edge with her thumb and, satisfied with its sharpness, gestured toward the fallen animals with the point of the knife. Eronir stood sentinel as the two women retrieved Yvonne's kill from the shallow edge of the pool with only a few slips and the occasional curse. When they got it to dry land and laid it beside the other, Morwyn gave them a curious look over before she and Yvonne unburdened themselves of their equipment and set about bleeding and field dressing the animals.

“Do you know what these creatures are called?” she asked Eronir, indicating the stout, forked black horns. White hair covered the creature's throat, underbelly, and hind end, which stood in stark contrast to the orange-brown fur that covered the rest of the beast. She tapped her bloodied knife on the stripe of black fur that only grew on the top of its snout. “They aren't like the deer back home at all.”

“We call them pronghorns,” the elf replied without breaking his attentive investigation of their surroundings. “Good eating, that's for sure, and they range to within a few days' march from home. Every now and then we organize a pronghorn hunt if times are lean or for special occasions.”

A comfortable silence fell between the trio as they each focused on their work, broken only by the occasional grunt of effort and the sounds of expedient butchery. Grateful for the light of the moon, Morwyn said a silent prayer of thanks to her goddess as she finished processing the carcass. She sat back on her heels and went to wipe the sweat from her forehead but stopped short when she realized that she was bloodied to the shoulders on both arms. She shook her head and flung a few drops away, which only served to stick more errant strands of her hair to her face.

“All done,” she said as she finished wrapping the pile of meat inside the hide to keep the dust and buzzing flies at bay. “Think it's safe to wash off in the oasis? If this blood dries, I'll never get it out of my chain-mail.”

“I wouldn't mind a quick rinse myself,” Yvonne echoed her sentiment.

Eronir glanced to the two of them and rubbed his chin for a long moment.

“Drag the carcasses off a good distance first. That way if anything big and hungry comes through, it'll hopefully eat the remains and leave us in peace. I'll stay here and cover the mess to try and mask the scent.”

“What's the matter? Afraid to get your hands dirty?” Yvonne teased. Eronir looked quite appropriately offended as Yvonne made a face and rolled the gut pile from her pronghorn back inside its ribcage.

“Come on now,” Morwyn warned with a sly smile as she followed suit, “those hands are good for more than just writing pretty words. You've seen him in action with that spear of his.”

Eronir merely shook his head and broke off a long, scraggly branch from one of the nearby bushes. He shooed them off with it before using his improvised broom to sweep away the evidence of their hunt as best he could. Morwyn took the lead and dragged one butchered carcass away with Yvonne following shortly after, both moving carefully to avoid spilling the guts back out onto the ground. It wasn't long before dust and debris covered the slick bones and innards enough to keep further blood from trailing along behind them. The going was somewhat easier beyond of the ring of vegetation that grew near the oasis and they carried on that way for quite a distance. At length Morwyn finally dropped the hind legs of her burden to the ground, panting for breath as she squinted across the rugged, moonlit landscape. She could see the bobbing lights of the caravan's lanterns off in the distance, but it was impossible to tell how quickly they would arrive.

“This ought to be far enough,” she said as Yvonne released her carcass as well and took a moment of respite. She scooped up a handful of sand before rubbing it vigorously between her hands and Morwyn mimicked the action to remove some of the blood and slime from her own. She was glad she'd taken off her new gloves to butcher the pronghorn and had counted on the darkness to mask her scale, but even so she attempted to keep her left hand turned away from the elf as subtly as possible.

A palpable and awkward silence fell over the two of them as they stood there recovering their breath in the darkness with only the sounds of chirping insects and buzzing flies to accompany them. From Yvonne's body language she could tell that the elf wanted to say something but wasn't quite sure how to begin. Morwyn felt her stomach drop as Gildara's still, dead face flashed over that of her sister's for a split second. Yvonne cleared her throat and let the sand trickle slowly between her fingers before she eventually spoke.

“Over the last few days I've thought a lot about what you said before,” the elf began uncertainly, picking at the dried blood beneath her nails with a dried twig. She paused for a moment and took a deep breath as she stared up at the multitude of stars that now winked in the black sky above them. “About compartmentalizing, I mean. I've been trying, but... it's not easy. I'm over the shock of the battle, at least I think I am, but I still feel my sister's absence in every moment. She'd have been here hunting with us. She'd have taken that third animal without a blink.”

Morwyn let out a restrained breath as quietly as she could manage. It was too dark for her to see the details of Yvonne's expression, but the glint of tears was evident in the elf's eyes. She motioned for Yvonne to follow her and walked a short distance back toward the oasis to get away from the smell of entrails and drying blood. It also bought her enough time to organize her frantic thoughts and formulate a response.

“I could tell you some soothing nonsense to try to comfort you, but we both know that won't do either of us any good. I was pretty bad at that the first time we spoke about this.” For a brief moment Morwyn felt a cloying guilt for the look of desperate misery that Yvonne gave her, but compassion quickly overruled her discomfort and she continued resolutely. “The truth is that it will always be hard. You might look at a bird, or a rock, or a flower that reminds you of her. A pleasant aroma, a familiar texture... To this day I can still hear the warmth of Father's laughter and smell the tea that Mother made for me when I was sick. The pain dulls with time but it lingers and every reminder twists the knife anew. It never goes away, nor should it. They should be remembered no matter how much it hurts.”

Morwyn didn't need a light to see the grief on Yvonne's face. The elf covered her mouth with one hand to stifle a sob as she fought to keep her composure.

“There are moments where I feel alright, like I can handle myself again, but then it all comes crashing back down again. I'm trying so hard to keep from breaking down around the others, but I don't know how long I can keep this up. Putting on a brave face and pretending to be okay is killing me-”

Overwhelmed with empathy more powerful than her impulse to remain aloof, Morwyn suddenly stepped forward and embraced the sobbing elf. Yvonne threw her arms tightly around Morwyn's middle and cried into her shoulder without restraint. As Morwyn placed a gentle hand on the back of Yvonne's head and held her tightly in her despair, she finally understood exactly what her family must have felt when they'd done the same for her all those long, lonely years ago. Tears welled in her own eyes, but she stood strong for Yvonne to lean upon. The moment stretched long as they held each other in the darkness, though it was devoid of their earlier awkwardness as they shared in the agonizing ritual of catharsis.

“I'm sorry to burden you with this,” Yvonne finally said in a choked whisper as she rested her cheek against Morwyn's armored shoulder, facing away from her. “It's just... with Gildara gone, I don't have a sister anymore. I thought she'd always be there for me and I for her, you know? It all just feels so empty without her. A part of me is missing.”

“You are not a burden,” Morwyn whispered back, her own voice now laden with emotion as well, “and I do know. I miss my own sisters and brothers more than I could ever say. It's a different bond than it is with anyone else.”

Yvonne loosened her grip and took half a step back but still clutched onto the waist of Morwyn's tunic as if for dear life. Her elven features, typically so elegant and austere, held an almost childlike mixture of pain and appreciation.

“I... I don't quite know what to say,” Yvonne stammered, turning her gaze to the ground. “Thank you, Morwyn. I guess... I needed to let it all out, to talk to someone who understands. Not that the others haven't tried, but... it really is different. You get it.”

Morwyn couldn't help a sad smile as she brushed errant strands of Yvonne's dark hair back into place for her and wiped the tears from her cheeks with her thumbs, smudging a bit of dirt on them as she did so. In that moment, her hands were Anna's hands. Elaine's hands. Matthias' hands.

“We can never replace those that we've lost,” she said, tilting Yvonne's chin up to look her in the eyes, “but that doesn't mean we're alone. We may not be blood, but we're all family too. Argoth threatened to beat that lesson into my thick skull not too long ago. I won't make the same threat, but I do want you to know that it's true.”

Yvonne's lip quivered for a moment as she hesitated, then she gave Morwyn another tight embrace before releasing it and stepping back. She wiped her eyes, smearing more grime on her face, then bowed her head solemnly.

“Gildara and I would have loved to have you as a sister,” Yvonne said quietly, tearing Morwyn's heart from her chest with her words. “I'm glad that... that at least I might have that, even if she can't.”

Before Morwyn could answer past the lump in her throat, Yvonne took her hands and gave them a firm squeeze. Her brows drew together with sudden concern and she looked down with worried curiosity. Morwyn's heart skipped a beat and she pulled her hands away quickly, covering her left with her right.

“Are you alright?” Yvonne asked with cautious concern. “That felt like bone.”

“It's nothing,” Morwyn lied, cursing herself as she did so and immediately backtracking. “I mean, it's not nothing. But I'm not hurt, there's no need to worry-”

Whatever excuse she was about to make was cut off by a cry of alarm from the direction of the oasis, followed by the cacophony of shouts and hisses and the clashing of steel against a hard surface. Morwyn and Yvonne locked eyes for a heartbeat before both women reflexively drew their knives.

“Compartmentalize,” Morwyn urged. Yvonne took a shuddering breath and nodded in understanding, her expression hardening, then both women raced off towards the sounds of a desperate struggle.