Closed Playing Games with the Game.

[Medhozic]

He did not mind for long tales. The meat would take some time to cook, he knew, as he gently rolled it on the end of its short stick. As each portion lost its dark red quality, he packed it into his bag and fixed a new one over the smouldering flames while refusing to break concentration from the girl telling him the story of her life.. which, oddly, was somewhat similar to his own.. he could relate to her strife. Of course, though, she'd never seen and would never see the same problems that he had gone through. Only a fellow Ethaefal would ever know those hardships. "I once had another half." Sometimes, he wished he could share such experiences through a better medium than just words. They seemed disjointed and rambling. "He was there, at the time of my fall from the heavens. It is hard - harder than anything else. I managed, with his help. He showed me how to survive - and why I should survive. Ethaefal were sparse and few, and he thought I was the most beautiful of all; I thought likewise for him. But in our travel to Syliras, there were some in the wilderness thinking that I would be fresh prey." He shook his head solemnly, and revealed parts of his horns from beneath the curtain of brown hair. "They wished to take my horns and my flesh and harvest it for their own gain. He fought for me, but they were better armed. I made it here as sanctuary." That was his story. The story that he could remember - the rest of it was disjointed, apart from the one vivid memory that would always remain. The betrayal; his murder. "Syliras is safe, but unwelcoming. It is filled with guards that would rather service the other humans than the Ethaefal, and it is filled with Humans and Kelvics that I have grown to distrust and dislike. I will find somewhere better and more receptive, or I will die trying." He nodded to his own words with a glance back to the girl after a few more moments of letting the last few vestiges of meat cook over the open flames. "I believe the deer is cooked. We should leave, now, before it gets too dark." The last few pieces were stuffed into his now-oversized bag, and a small pile of other meat parts were handed to Oriah. "Carry these." He took the bag, and the skin as he stood and began walking off between the trees, for the North Kabrin Road that would lead right up to Syliras' gates. The time for questions and answers were over. He'd given enough information on his life..

[Oriah]

She watched the hunter speak of his story with a mixture of sadness and astonishment. It was the first time she had ever heard a personal account of an Ethfael's fall, as brief--yet poignant--as it was. It was also impossible not to feel a hint of his pain; she had met a few who shared the same loss, and it always brought about a ghostly wave of sorrow when such similarities were brought to light.

His tale began as hers had almost word for word, but quickly diverged into a more grim direction. The Benshira tried to imagine how difficult it had to have been for him. Tried, and failed. Survival in harsh conditions was nothing new; she had spent her whole life steeped in it. Life was always hard. Deserts were hot. Mountains were cold. The good suffered, the wicked prospered, and all the same, nothing worth experiencing was ever easy.

Yet, still, there were harder things. Facing adversity was one issue. Coming to terms with the loss of a life you cherished, replaced by realities you are forced to abide within, however, was a separate matter altogether. Oriah had traveled to the lands beyond the Eyktol with an open heart and mind, of her own will and volition. Under, even, the approval and protection of her god. Medhozic, in contrast, had fallen against his wishes to a world he did not wholly belong to, forced to persevere amongst those he felt no kinship to. Then he was made into prey for his unearthly beauty, the thought of which made Oriah's stomach twist in disgust, and presumably lost his great love to his heartless pursuers.

The Benshira's own twin had been kidnapped, beaten, and left to die by a foreign slaver. She knew what it was like, to lose someone beloved to another's greed, to have one's life torn asunder by grief, to hate those who treated living things as nothing more but bartering chips. Oh, the poisonous hate she had nursed. For a while it was all she could do, and it had taken every ounce of faith and will she possessed to return from that dark place. And she had only done so with the unwavering love of her mentor. Medhozic's mentor, however, was no where to be seen. It was a small wonder he seemed as cool as he did.

But, perhaps, if he had managed thus far not to spurn her company outright, and had gone so far as to divulge a bit of his painful past to a complete stranger, there was a glimmer of warmth somewhere in there to be appreciated.

"Agreed," she responded, breaking her lengthy silence. At his apparent distaste for the knights, Oriah decided against revealing her recent squireship. For now. She might not be much now, but hoped one day she would strong and wise enough to prove such guards could earn the Eth's approval. Her patron was, after all, Protector of the forest, and cared for each and every life within it. The freshly recruited squire wished to be the same, except her scope would extend past Mora's reclusive boundaries to include those of the city's as well. And, perhaps, all of the lands afterwards. But that was another dream for another day. Right now, getting past her role as a squire was difficult enough.

Oriah took the meaty burden with a nod and followed, only to rush back and stamp out their fire before pelting off after the hunter's retreating figure. Knowing what little bits and pieces she did of her new patron, the girl was eager to prove herself to the forest's self proclaimed guardian. It had only seemed the rational thing to do, putting out the flames. Whether it was impressive or not to the reclusive enigma, however, was yet to be determined.

They walked in silence for a good while, leaving her mind free to churn over various thoughts. She'd stuffed her food into her pack and used the empty bag to hold the cooked meat. Oriah had also unslung the borrowed shortbow from her back to grasp it in her arm. She barely knew how to hold the thing yet, but the impending darkness made her skin prickle with unease. Better safe than sorry, she had told herself.

Half a bell or so later, Syna's rays were sinking into the horizon and the Benshira's feet were growing a bit weary. She was starting to let her guard down and had half a mind to put away her bow. A rustling sound nearby, however, forced her back into alertness.

"What was that?" she whispered.

[Medhozic]

OOCSorry for the delay, preparations for the New Year. He shook off the girls concern with no more than a wave of his wrist, although his kopis was in the hand attached to it. With the light of Syna fading, they would have to get a move on, so to speak. The creatures came out after the dark had set, not to say that they didn't during the days of sunlight either. But he wouldn't take his chances, and he wouldn't be diverted from his goal. If they could reach the North Kabrin Road, they'd at least be somewhat safe. The travelers might be thinner in number but they were company that the wolves would not dare to attack. "It is nothing that we should concern ourselves with, for now." Whatever it was.. well, they were carrying large amounts of meat, so he guessed it would be carnivorous. And a good predator of the night if they were going to hide away in the shadows. "I would keep your bow at the ready, but do not slow your pace." He had a bow too, but he woldn't draw it as long as he had a closer weapon. Bows were better for the damage they dealt but once the arrow was launched, that was it. Picking out another arrow, drawing it, aiming.. by the time all that was done with, they'd both be skinned and chopped as finely as the deer they were carrying. No, a kopis would be best.. but that didn't mean that an archer watching his back wouldn't be welcome either. In his hurry to escape the Bronze Woods, he made his own paths by slamming the blade into the small scattering of bushes, mostly just spindles anyway but some with at least a little of their strength still held somewhere inside their cold wooden frames. It was made for dealing with heavy foliage, so it went through the stuff with little worries, although it did take a few attempts at some points. Never mind, it would be worth it. "You will have to watch my back and make sure that I am not mauled. I will watch yours." They were so close anyway. Between the gaps of the trees, he could see the damn road sitting there.

[Oriah]

oocno worries!

The squire relaxed a little at Medhozic's words, but a prickle of unease still danced across her neck. She nodded and did as he suggested, keeping her bow ready and checking behind her now and then to match her pace with his. In the wake of their noisy, violently carved trail, the rustling had all but stopped. Or could she just not hear it over the hacking of the hunter's blade and the hammering of her own heart?

Either way, she kept her eyes peeled and feet moving. Oriah had no idea if they were anywhere remotely near the road yet, but that only further fueled her resolve. Her gaze darted to the left. Was that movement she had seen, or just a trick of the light? The girl tightened her grip on her bow. She hadn't been using the thing for more than a day, which she wasn't entirely sure she ought to mention to the Eth at such a tenuous moment, but it was better than nothing.

For the first time since having set food beyond the Wall that morning, the squire found herself wishing she had brought more gear. A shield, perhaps, or a sword. Both would have been more serviceable against larger threats than her small daggers or a bow she hardly know how to hold. It was too late now, she mentally sighed, but it would to do remember next time.

If there was a next time.

At Medhozic's words, Oriah raised her bow a little higher and replied with a simple, affirmative "Mmph."

Another glance backwards prompted a sigh of relief from her lips. They were so close to the road. No doubt now that they would make it, then, relatively unscathed.

Her relief, however, was short-lived. A low, distinct growl could be heard somewhere beneath the brambles, making the squire quiver a little in her boots. Oriah remembered the Eth's words though and drew back the string with sheer determination. If she was going to die having served the shortest squireship in the history of squireships, she would do so upholding her honor and duties, without fear. She would die protecting another.

A pair of gleaming eyes and yellow fangs emerged from the thicket. Her heart lurched in a moment of panic and her arm flinched at the sight. As a result, her clammy fingers lost their grip and the involuntary motion sent the arrow flying off in a random direction.

Before Oriah could vocally curse her own stupidity, a tiny squeak pierced the chilled air. Faster than her eyes could track, whatever had been stalking them became a blur of shaggy fur as it bounded toward the fallen prey and snatched it up with mangy jaws. The squire felt her stomach twist a little upon seeing it was a rabbit, her arrow protruding from its hind quarters as it flailed for a few ticks before the wolf clamped down to silence it.

The girl sent a fervent, hushed prayer to Yahal for the fact that she had hit anything at all, let alone possibly the only thing buying them time at this point.

With shaking fingers, she pulled another arrow from her quiver and whispered hoarsely to the hunter, "W-wolf. There will be more." Sounds of voracious chewing and gnashing could be heard, but the rabbit was small. Too small.

It was only a matter of time.

[Medhozic]

He was familiar with wolves. They hunted in packs. He'd learned that the hard way, unfortunately. No matter. He'd also learned how to deal with them without getting injured. However, it was getting late. They already had one dear, cooked and skinned, and little room for more. They had two options.. neither of which he particularly liked. They could make a break for the Kabrin Road. They'd most likely be chased out of the forest, although hopefully when they got to the roads, they wouldn't be slaughtered by the wolves. It would be an open, clear place. The Syliran Knights patrolled the forests - surely there would at least be some wandering about during the later bells of the night, protecting the citizens and the order from whatever creatures might stalk it. Or, they could climb the trees. It was how he had learned it, once. To climb the trees would leave the wolves out of range, and they'd be able to kill all of the wolves and leave it at that. However, he wouldn't waste meat - or furs. And he wouldn't kill innocent animals and leave their bodies to rot without contributing it to something. That would be barbaric, even for a hunter such as he. It was a snap-decision moment, where they could only take one path, and once the path was taken, there could be no turning back. It could mean death for one of them, most likely both of them if he took the wrong way. The wrong way would be trying to outrun a pack of wolves and placing his trust in the Syliran Knights to protect them from harm. He was perfectly capable of taking down a few wolves. Better yet, luring them away with something else. Like a piece of deer meat. A worthy sacrifice. "Climb the tree." He pointed to the nearest tree, and then began to climb the one adjacent. There would be time later to decide on how they would shoot down the group. For now, there was climbing to be done. And he could only pray to merciful Syna that there would be no wolf smart enough to try and make a break for one of their ankles while they went up. At least there was no foliage around the place, giving a perfect view of the surrounding forests in all their snow-covered glory. But it could also mean the wolves would have a direct line of sight to the two hunters, armed with shortbows, trying to climb up the trees. Petch it all. "Once you get to the top, shoot down that wolf." He nodded his head to the one that was finishing off the morsel of rabbit, so generously provided by the Benshira. That one would have to be the first to go. It had been the first to see them, after all. Now it would be the last.

[Oriah]

Not bothering with useless protests or questions, Oriah set her sights on the tree the hunter had assigned her and focused on nothing else but climbing it. She pushed out all other concerns from her mind, one by one, and hoisted herself onto the lowest branch. Climb, climb, climb! the squire chanted, trying her best not to think about how soon the wolf behind them must be finished with its rodent meal.

If there was anything the desert taught her, it was balance. That, for every act of expanded awareness, there was a counter act for single minded determination. To learn not only how to pay attention to all life that dwelled within the forest or to cancel out everything except survival, but when as well, was as crucial a skill as any.

And to know that for every life taken, another might continue to live.

Oriah's heart felt the old, ghostly pang of grief. Priah. Then she let it sink back into the inky depths of obscurity, settling herself onto a branch high enough to be out of reach of claws and teeth. The squire watched their shaggy predator with anxious eyes. Muzzle covered in blood, the wolf licked its maw a few times before raising its head and staring up at the trees with steady, yellow eyes.

So, it knew they were there. Back propped against gnarled bark, Oriah pulled an arrow from her quiver and knocked it with slow, careful movements. She tried to ignore the wild thumping of her heart and clammy, shaking hands. I don't want to kill you, the girl confessed in her mind. She wasn't even entirely sure she could kill the wolf from this distance. But she knew she had to try, should it boil down to "him or us." And if more showed up, those would have to die as well.

The squire's arms quivered. She realized her conscience was rebelling, despising such thoughts. Despising herself. It was true, that the wolves would kill and eat them without hesitation in a time of such scarce food and harsh conditions. But she had a warm bed and hot food to return to; they did not. She had been blessed to be born with the ability to choose between right and wrong, to dance and sing, to worship her god and live life as she believed it ought to be lived. But wolves were wolves; they killed to live, and nothing more. And, feral as they were, they had a pack to think of as well. For a moment, Oriah wondered if they ever felt similar hesitance. What if one of them was a Kelvic, somewhere out there? Did they have such thoughts? Did they care at all, or had they abandoned their humanity long, long ago?

She was at the brink of lowering her weapon, will all but dissipated, when more rustling sounded nearby. Stifling a gasp, Oriah tightened her grip once more, eyes glued to the scene below her. She counted the bodies as they emerged. One, two, three...four...

Her heart sank. So many. Five wolves. Five hungry, muscled, whip fast beasts with claws and teeth sharp enough to tear out their throats. She and the Eth hunter were safe up in the trees, for now. But they could not stay there forever. Eventually, they needed to come down.

And when they did, the inevitable would come to greet them.

But, what was this? Something...strange was happening. At least it appeared so, to the squire's novice eyes. Instead of greeting his pack, as she'd expected him to, the mangy wolf lowered its ears and slunk back a little.

Thunk. One of the wolves--the alpha, it seemed, as it was much larger and weathered looking than the rest--tossed something beside the chewed up rabbit. Oriah's eyes widened in recognition. It was the deer head Medhozic had thrown into the trees at the beginning of their skinning and butchering. The first wolf looked at it longingly but made no move to feast on it, not even a sniff or lick to taste it. With what seemed very much like a look of disdain, the alpha huffed and bent to tear a sizable chunk before guzzling it down.

The others followed, but not First Wolf. He stared at them forlornly for a bit, and now that there were others to compare him to, Oriah noted he seemed much thinner and more ragged then his peers. Or perhaps they weren't his peers...?

Her guess was confirmed when First Wolf inched forward. Just one paw in front of the other, accompanied by a pitiful whimper. The Alpha snapped up and snarled viciously. His pack followed suit and kept it up until First Wolf bowed out completely to scamper away. An exile, Oriah realized. Packless, family-less. A literal lone wolf left to fend for itself.

Satisfied, the pack returned to feasting on their meager meal. It wasn't long before they finished--even what was left of the rabbit as well--and sat on their haunches, engaged in a bit of post-dinner grooming.

By then, the Benshira had long since lowered her weapon and arrow. It didn't seem as though the other wolves knew or cared of their presence. Perhaps, if they stayed up here long enough, the beasts would simply leave and they would be free to go.

Watching with bated breath, Oriah kept as still as quiet as she could, grateful for her companion's foresight. She kept up a state of alertness, ready to follow the Eth's suit if he deemed the situation safe enough to descend back to.

[Medhozic]

Unfortunately, the Ethaefal did not see the same affection that the girl could hold for such an outcast of an animal. Mostly because he was not looking at the same animal - nor was he so hesitant in preparing to kill the first wolf, or any of the others for that matter. Perhaps he should have been. But these were wolves, and he'd experienced them before. Unfortunately more than he guessed it would be particularly normal, although in the winter seasons, he guessed that all creatures had to eat. The mammals would be just as hungry as they were, hunting for whatever food they could find. He had to eat too though, and the strongest of the forests and the jungles survived. So, he drew his bow, prepared an arrow, notched it into place and drew it back until the fletching of the arrow touched his cheek. The arrow, however, only struck the ground next to the animals as they dug into their meal. Petch. Well, he was in a tree.. and there was still a good deal of distance between them. "If you won't shoot them, they won't die and we won't be able to go home." He could see that the girl was anxious, and he sympathised.. but it seemed that everyone was either too cautious, too pacifist and in some cases simply too scared to fight for their own life.. or they were too violent for their own good. They'd all find a balance, one day.. or they'd die. Either way, the world would move on with or without them. Just like, if he ever lost his balance, lost his momentum.. he would fall behind it, too. So he quickly drew a second arrow, prepared it, pulled it back.. took a slow breath, plenty of time to aim and ready his release. But it failed again. It only struck the ground, and jutted out at an odd angle, still twitching slightly as the wolves stared at it - then at him. Two of them dispatched, growling as they prowled around the base of the tree, sniffing and staring up. "If you don't shoot, then you will die." There. That should at least give Oriah some form of motivation to get shooting. He could use all the help he could find. "It is either them, or us." He definitely should have waited now, he knew, for them to leave again. But on the other hand.. well, it was better to have them gone now. He lived in these forests, practically.. he worked in them, he took his time to hunt in them, train in them. People traveled in them, and other people hunted in them as well. He'd met those people and work alongside them occasionally. The Bronze Woods was not a deserted area, for the wolves to roam free in, and live prosperously. Unfortunately, this place was a world of dangers for the wolves.. and given the people around them, it was a world of danger for the people of Syliras to leave those wolves wandering around in the Bronze Woods. As much as he actually hated wording it in that way, it was a sort-of duty for them to protect the citizens of the city.. and more importantly, protect himself from future encounters with such creatures.

[Oriah]

The Eth's words hit Oriah hard. Them, or us. She stared down at the two wolves who circled around Medhozic's chosen tree, sniffing and patrolling. Perhaps trying to find a way up, the girl wondered, or a way to get him down. Stilling the shaking in her limbs as best she could, the squire raised her shortbow once more and nocked the arrow in place. She drew back slow, careful not to draw their attention to her as well. As far as the wolves were concerned, there was only one object of curiosity up in that tree. Best to let them keep believing that until the very last tick.

The Benshira kept her grip tight, moving her bow and arrow along with the pacing wolves. It didn't matter which one she aimed for. She didn't even necessarily need to kill them, just scare them off. Or, that was what the girl told herself as she picked one of their shaggy flanks and let loose the arrow.

It landed in the hard earth beside the wolves, as she had expected. Hard enough to hit a straw target, let alone a moving one with limbs and reflexes. Snarling, the wolves skittered back from the protruding arrow, look up at the trees for the attacker responsible. Oriah kept very still. They shouldn't be able to see her, so long as she gave them no clues to her hiding place.

After a while, another wolf joined their ranks, padding around the trees and biding their time. The Benshira cursed silently to herself. Syna was sinking fast. They didn't have time for this.

Throwing caution to the wind, she drew another arrow--she was down to only a few now--and nocked it quickly. Then she aimed for the closest wolf and, with a silent, fervent prayer to Yahal sent at the last tick for guidance, Oriah pulled the string as far back as she could, arms shaking with fatigue, heart near bursting out of her chest, and loosed the arrow.

It didn't hit the wolf's shoulder, as she had intended. Instead, it pierced the beast in one of its hind legs. The wolf yipped in pain and hobbled back, expecting more attacks from their mystery assailant. Its pack members circled around it, growling and snarling in anger as they looked straight up at where Oriah sat crouched on her branch. In a spur of desperate, slightly delirious frustration, the girl grabbed a fist full of dying leaves and browned shells and chucked it at the persistent predators.

They growled up at her, yellowed eyes narrowed in further anger. Undaunted, she growled back and met them glare for glare, baring her teeth and craning her neck forward to give them a better view of their unreachable opponent. "Get out of here, you stubborn beasts! Oriah yelled as ferociously as she could, reverting to her native tongue in a moment of passion. "Leave us alone! Be gone!"

Then she loaded another arrow and pulled back the string. The sound alone made the wolves flatten their ears in alarm and snarl even louder. But something in her crazed attempts seemed to have gotten through, because they were backing up now, retreating to the vicinity of their leader.

Shaking from adrenaline, Oriah kept her bow up and loaded as she tracked their progress. The wounded one whimpered and limped with the others. Perhaps it would be enough of a deterrent.

[Medhozic]

He shook his head quietly. They would not be gone long. The threat was made, but it was feeble - the wolves were many, and the human-like merely two; regardless of their long-range weapons. Moving them away now, would only be a short-term gain.. the wolves would return, he was certain of it. "Less yelling, more hitting." It was embarrassing enough that the girl had managed even more than he could with a bow - the third strike also hit the dirt as the wolves suddenly began moving backwards, away from the trees that they had patrolled.. even limping away. Damn it all, they didn't have time. Syna's rays were few and even those were withering away into nothingness. "Syna, Mother of Light, shine on your children and aid them in their time of need." It was the first time, since his falling, that he had actually prayed. Not even in his times of the direst need, had he prayed for his mother. In this world, there were few chances and fewer reasons.. after all, there were many that would pray to her.. and he did not know how many of her fallen children were scattered across the world, but he doubted that there would be few of them. Who would be so foolish, after all, to not look towards the light in times of darkness? He decided, abruptly, that he would pray more often. Much more often. Because at that moment, he released the arrow that had been prepared.. and it struck straight on the shoulder of one of the retreating wolves. Fourth time was the charm, it seemed - and a sharp yelp followed by small whimpers only made it even sweeter. Or it would have. Except as soon as he realized that he'd injured the creature, he knew that he had only injured it. It was a dead wolf now. But it was not dead - only wounded. A whimpering, pitiful thing that would not live very long. With the arrow buried in its shoulder - and the Ethaefal was sure that it was more than a mere flesh wound - the wolf would not be able to hunt. At best, it would survive for a little while longer. But it would not be able to hunt - it was a doomed creature. Sort-of like him. A doomed creature left to wander around the world, forgotten. Something that was already dead.. just waiting out its last few days before the inevitable. His face took on its mask again. Remembering that he should not remember such things. They would only bring pain. The wolves were moving farther away now, back into the lines of trees that were already shrouded in enough darkness to become only grey outlines. Even the road was fading. "It is safe to come down now. We need to hurry." The last thing they ever should have done, was to remain in the Bronze Woods after dark.

[Oriah]

Oriah reddened a little at the hunter's comment and nocked another arrow in a spur of determination. She hadn't meant to lose control of her emotions, but the strange, primitive need to vent her frustrations through yelling and shouting had gripped her in the moment. Anger was something she had attempted to exert control over so many years ago, but she was far from perfecting such control. It had taken so long through both the guidance of her mentors and Yahal himself to overcome the worst of her vexations.

The girl shoved aside those thoughts for a later time and focused on her task. They needed to drive the wolves further away, that much was evident in the Eth's words and actions. Medhozic had managed to land an arrow in the shoulder of one of the beasts. Such a wound wouldn't kill it--not right away--but it was enough to send it and its kin farther into the treeline.

Oriah took another deep breath to calm her nerves. She shifted herself as best she could atop the thick branch and pulled back the string with three fingers, trying to remember to keep her elbow straight as she did so. It was a trial, to say the least, getting used to this weapon. But she had no choice; the Benshira had been told again and again she would need to know the four basic skills required of a knight, and archery was one of them.

It wasn't entirely impossible. She did have a slight advantage in having decent practice with her Hebrean sling, so aim came a little easier than it did for most. But it was still as trying of a learning process as any and she struggled to remain patient in her efforts.

The former dancer's fingers let go a little too early, weakened by her previous exertion. She watched in dismay as her arrow wobbled a bit in the air and plummeted down to the ground some distance away from the wolves. Thankfully, at that moment, Medhozic gave the all clear. She scrambled down as fast as she could, careful not to let her clothing or equipment become snagged on twigs or rough bark.

When both of her feet were finally on the ground, Oriah sent a small prayer of gratitude to Yahal and made quick work of following after the Eth. It was growing increasingly more worrisome that Syna had almost all but disappeared beneath the horizon. Soon, they would have trouble even seeing the path. The hunter was right--they did indeed need to hurry. Or perhaps even sprint, the girl thought to herself, but she remained silent in fear of attracting further attention from the wolves.

"I can see it. So close," she whispered out loud as the vague, blotchy shapes of walls began to loom in the distance. The squire picked up her pace and willed their good fortune thus far to hold up, all the while hefting their heavy, meaty burdens with aching arms.

Just a little more...we're almost there!