As it turned out, Hunter didn’t have to wait long. Not half an hour later, the familiar silhouette of the woman appeared behind one of the nearby barrows, a ghost in the Vale’s ever-present mist. Fyodor bolted and went straight for her, but she dodged the slobbering direwolf with a pirouette.
“Down, you furry fool!”
The fluid grace with which Fawkes did even the tiniest thing would never cease to amaze Hunter. Her age was indeterminate; her long hair, now caught in a tight bun at the base of her skull, was ash-gray. Instead of marring her looks, the crow’s feet and the few pale scars on her face gave her an air of conviction, the kind of certainty that can only come with time. Her garb was ever practical; well-worn travelling clothes covered in dozens of straps and buckles. As she often did when ranging alone, she had her high collar raised and the angular brim of her tricorne hat pulled down low over her brow.
Hunter watched as the woman and the direwolf came closer and he felt his heart swell. He hadn’t known her long. Hell, whether she was even real or not technically depended on his definition of reality. He didn’t care. Right now, she was the person he felt closer to in the whole wide world.
Not that he’d tell her.
“Has your side of things grown that boring?” Fawkes asked as she climbed the stairs to the entrance of the Halls, her lips split in a lopsided smirk.
“I’ve been gone too long.”
“Really? I hardly noticed.”
“How have you been doing?”
“Me? Never better.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow. The swordswoman façade of stoicism was that - a façade. Up close, he could see it; The swordswoman looked older than ever, the lines of her face ever so slightly deeper, her shoulders ever so slightly slumped, her gait ever so slightly ponderous.
Hunter was worried, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to talk to her. The two of them, they’d left things at a weird place before taking on Mother. Now she was steeped in grief and stubbornly refusing to accept it. Fawkes wasn’t the kind of person used to showing weakness, and it was obviously killing her.
“How have you been doing?” she shifted the exchange to him instead.
“Good, I guess,” Hunter shrugged. “I’m just sitting around all day, getting as much rest as I can.”
Fawkes nodded, then took a closer look at him.
“Shouldn’t you stay off… well, off this side of things?”
“I’m fine. I just wanted to pop in and check on you and the mutt.”
“As you can see,” Fawkes threw a glance towards the direwolf, who was munching on a spider leg the size of a golf club, “we’re both feeling sweet as peaches.”
The lie was obvious, but Hunter shrugged it off.
“So,” he said, changing the subject to something more comfortable. “What’s the plan?”
“The plan?”
“Our next step. What do we do now?”
Fawkes gave him a measured look, and he couldn’t but notice how tired her grey eyes looked.
Had she been crying?
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“I’ll scout around this place for a few days, make sure I dot my i's and crosses my t's. You take your time and get better. Then I’ll drop you off at the Brennai village.”
“Drop me off?” Hunter asked, not sure what she was playing at.
“You’ll be fine there. We did them a great service. I’m sure they’ll be more amenable towards you now. With a bit of luck, you’ll spend the rest of your sentence lounging around that cabin where I first found you, fishing and playing with your little menagerie.”
“I mean… what about you?”
Fawkes frowned and looked away.
“I think it’s better if we went our separate ways, Hunter. There are a few things I need to do.”
Hunter stared at her for a moment, perplexed. Then his anger, put aside for the last few days, started simmering again.
“I thought there were a few things we needed to do,” he finally said, slowly dragging the ‘we’.
“I dragged you into this,” Fawkes said and cocked a thumb towards the Halls of the Cor Ancestors, still looking away. “And you’ve been a great help, and thank you kindly, but I don’t think there’s a reason for me to drag you into anything else.”
“You didn’t drag me into anything,” Hunter said, temper starting to flare. “I came with you because I wanted to. You have my back. I have yours. I like things this way.”
“This is not up for discussion. I want to be on my own.”
Fyodor nuzzled Hunters hand, visibly alarmed at seeing his two favorite humans ready to go at it again. Hunter paid him no heed.
“…is this about me being a Transient again?”
“And what if it is?”, Fawkes met his stare with her own.
Hunter’s ears started to ring and his vision blurred.
“Listen to me-”, he began, ready to throw down. Then he saw her grimace and decided to shut up instead.
Her brow was furrowed and her lips pressed together into that trademark defiant frown Hunter had seen her wear only too often. Her eyes, however, were welling with tears she refused to let overflow.
That grounded him, and he felt his anger evaporating in an instant. Butting head with Fawkes? That was something he could handle. Seeing her like this, though? That, he wasn’t equipped to deal with.
Fawkes turned away and pretended to stare at some arbitrary point far off in the Vale. Hunter acted as if he didn’t notice the single tear that rolled down her cheek and gave her space. Fyodor, above such human pretenses, wagged his bushy tail and licked her hand. Fawkes brushed her hand over his head, scratching behind his ears. The direwolf pressed his body to her calf and whimpered softly. Fawkes let out a deep sigh, then leaned into him, allowing herself to be comforted by his presence. She looked away again, out at the mists swirling above the weeds and shrubs below.
"I'm fine, boy," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't worry about me. I’m fine."
Hunter hadn’t seen her be further from fine. He couldn’t blame her, either. He’d stood next to her as they first laid eyes on Reiner’s remains displayed like a grim trophy. He’d fought next to her to silence It That Whispers once and for all. He’d stood vigil with her as the Phage devoured what little remained of the dead man’s body. He’d been there to see the light leave her eyes as she’d gathered his last possessions in a tiny little pile, he’d been there to hear her speak a few parting words with a voice devoid of color.
He felt his chest burning when he saw her like this and couldn’t find a damn thing to do to lighten her load a bit. And now, after all they’d been through, she wanted to part ways? He felt the pressure mount at the center of his head, behind his eyes, like a superdense ball of hot iron. His head swam, and he had to take in a deep breath to steady himself.
“You can't just shut me out like this, Fawkes,” Hunter finally said. “Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, not turning to face him, her eyes fixed somewhere far away.
“Like hell there isn’t! Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing? Let me be here for you, damn it!”
Fawkes turned around to face him again. He saw her face soften for a moment, but she quickly steeled herself again. Her gaze regained some of its usual fierceness and her eyes locked onto Hunter’s.
“Be here for me how, fool? Stick around for half a day at a time and be a pain in my neck? And then pop off to Goddess knows where, leaving me to sit around and wait for you to pop back? You’re a Transient. I don’t blame you for it, but it’s what you are. The faster you accept it, the faster we’ll both be at peace.”
Rage burned in Hunter’s head red hot, spreading fast like a wildfire. He felt as if he was ready to explode, and why shouldn’t he? All this injustice-
And then a thin line of blood trickled from his nose, and he felt himself deflate like a balloon.
“What would you have me do, then?” he asked.
“Go back to your side of things and rest, for starters,” she said and handed him a handkerchief, “before your brain starts to melt.”
He took the handkerchief and wiped the blood from his upper lip, staining the old cotton red. She wasn’t wrong.
“This conversation is not over,” Hunter said, his voice rough. “I’ll be back.”
“And I’ll be here, waiting,” Fawkes sighed and patted Fyodor’s on his broad head. “As usual.”