Nessalir the Red

It was clear to Nessalir that Akirim dy'Gwinwyd was a hunter of no small amount of skill. Having successfully slain Orov dy'Cangen, he had fled into the Wildwood while leaving no trace of himself behind. No leaves or branches had been disturbed. No footprints had been left in the soil. It was as though the assassin had been a ghost rather than an Elf.

Nessalir's golden eyes once more trailed over the plants around her, for she hoped that she might at last notice some small detail that had been thus far missed. Yet there was nothing.

"It is of no use," said Finn. "Our best course is to continue our hunt for the Questing Beast. Slaying the other hunters will mean nothing if the Hunter of Vines does not also return with the Beast's head."

Though she could not fault the logic of his words, Nessalir was unhappy with them. "Lead the way," she told him.

Finn met her gaze, and it was clear that he understood: he was still under suspicion, and the drakkowar had no intention of turning her back to him. For a moment, annoyance painted his face, and it seemed as though he might object, but quickly he schooled his expression and smiled. "Very well," he told her.

Turning, the Elf began walking deeper into the Wildwood. "I had heard the roar of the Beast coming from this direction, and was following the sound when I came across the dy'Cangen hunter's body. I am certain that we will soon come across our quarry's trail."

"You are confident in your abilities," noted Nessalir.

"I am," the Hunter agreed. "I have trained for this for decades. No Elf is more accomplished than I in matters of the hunt."

"When it comes to hunting Questing Beasts, perhaps. Though it appears assassins still elude you."

"No more than they elude yourself, dragonblood."

Nessalir grimaced, and did not reply.

They walked for some time, before coming across a fresh pathway. Branches had been bent and broken, and grass had been stamped down. Fallen leaves were shattered to dust, and the shape of a six-toed foot was imprinted in the ground.

"The Beast has been this way," said Finn.

Nessalir examined the footprint, noting the direction it pointed. She took a deep breath, inhaled the briny scent which still yet lingered upon the path. It was strong; so strong as to be nearly overwhelming.

"It's close," she said. "Our quarry has not been gone long. I believe it passed by here mere minutes ago."

Finn nodded, and removed from his shoulders his bow. He nocked an arrow, held the weapon before him, ready to raise and shoot at a moment's notice. Nessalir did the same.

"We must be vigilant," the Elf said softly, turning to creep further up the trail. "The Questing Beast is cunning and sly. It knows it is being hunted, and it will not hesitate to turn the hunt upon us."

"I have felled draugr and giants. I fear no mere Beast."

"Draugr and giants are little in the face of the Beast."

Nessalir smiled. "I have also slain a Starspawn."

At that, Finn faltered. The Elf turned back to look at Nessalir with a frown, and after a moment he laughed. "I almost believed you." He turned his attention back to the trail.

Following him, Nessalir replied: "Believe what you will. I know what I have accomplished, and that is enough."

"Word of your exploits spreads even to Ailefgar, dragonblood. Had you truly defeated a god's child, I would have heard."

"Of course." Nessalir did not tell him that she had been careful to keep her victory over the Starspawn a secret. Her reasons for doing so were twofold. The first was pride, for Nessalir wished to become legend for slaying the Father of Giants, Yovarth, the Winter King. The second was fear, for when she faced the scion of Arjent Qur, a strange berserker fury had befallen her. Where the fury had come from, and what had been its cause, Nessalir did not know. But while in its throes, she had felt as though she were not herself.

"You are brave," said Finn. "And you are confident. I admit, it is an easy thing to imagine that you could face a Starspawn and live. Nay, not just live, but triumph! I should like to witness your victory when that day comes." He looked to her again, and this time there was something new in his gaze: appreciation. His eyes swept over her, lingering, for the briefest of instants, upon the musculature of her arms and the swell of her breasts before settling on her face.

Nessalir smiled. Her companion's own wiry muscles were enticing in their own way, and she thought perhaps it would not be such a bad thing if they were to remain together for the rest of this night, once the hunt was complete.

"Let us focus on the hunt, for now," she told him. "Then later, if there is time, we may turn ourselves to… other matters."

In the shadows, Finn's eyes sparkled with anticipation, and he returned his attention once more to the trail.

Together, the two hunters followed the path of the Questing Beast. They moved with great deliberation, taking care to ensure they made no sounds which might alert their quarry to its pursuers. They continued on this way for some time before they came upon another figure on the trail.

It was an Elf, crouched and examining the trampled grounds and signs of the Beast's passage. His skin was dark, his hair black, and he wore a cloak of brown and gold. Even under what scant moonlight made its way through the trees, Nessalir recognized him instantly as the Hunter for the House of Vines.

Without a word, Finn dy'Blodyn raised his bow and let fly his arrow.