Chapter 72: Savior
Rain.
Fucking. Rain.
Although Bratik and the rest of his little caravan left a few days ago, the precipitation seemed to wait until he was out of the area to piss down on them like construction in the downfall was the most enjoyable activity this side of the shit-hole. Thankfully, he wasn’t the one who needed to be out in it building things.
The people who bothered Nalah—and in turn him—did. They put in requests for cloaks like Harrow used when she was tempering things before the roof over the fire out back was covered, and luckily Pan had some of the material ready for that purpose anyway, but it still meant that they both had to catalogue how many were needed and how it would effect their stores.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if he had decided to stay in the hub to manage what little ‘paperwork’ there was that he needed to do, but he had wanted to make use of the office that they went through the trouble of making for him. He didn’t want to ruin his relaxation by working within the base, so he simply sorted through the reports as the downpour outside littered the air with its noise.
The new members were coming along well. Out of the twenty that were still in the barracks, five were more-or-less in a state close enough to normal that they were given the ‘all clear’ to help out around the settlement. As long as they took it easy, anyway.
It meant that some of them were assisting in the preparation of leathers to be passed on for Pan to work with, and some were joining the Blades for their general housekeeping tasks. It was a slightly amusing thought to have people casually working alongside assassins and not thinking anything of it, but he wasn’t about to be the one to break it to them.
Wiping the smirk off his face as he pictured the look on theirs if they ever made the connection, he tossed that report aside and moved to the one submitted through the blond-furred planner-slash-foreman.
The second barracks was completed and healthy members moved to it, so the housing issue was going to be addressed as a part of normal construction efforts. Nalah found herself pretty occupied with overseeing two separate construction groups, one working on a new den and the other in the process of adding new lavatories. A new water tower was slated to begin as soon as the outhouses were done, and Ferra’s rock-worm pen...thing will be moved from her home within a few days.
It was actually pretty funny to him, Ferra taking the initiative and going about her specialty was surprising, but appreciated. Her transforming a chunk of her house in a spot to raise the little geological abominations was just fucking hilarious, given that neither of the other two occupants seemed to give a shit. Atrox was more than happy to support his mate, and Astra apparently couldn’t care less as long as it didn’t dig into the space they used to sleep, so it was done without anyone else really knowing.
As it was, there were six breeding pairs that popped out two or three every few weeks. It wasn’t a miracle solution, the time it took for them to get to a decent size was longer than she had been playing with her project, but it did mean that they had a pretty solid start with their animal husbandry.
Tossing that crudely translated tablet to the side, he inspected the next, taking a drink out of his cup that he would lay out on the enclosed outdoor meeting area every so often to refill.
The engine-forge was expected to be up within a few days, given the reliably warmer weather. He had sorted out where the electrical for the recycler was hooked into the atmospheric regulator and had an idea for how to separate them, so it shouldn’t be much trouble in that way of things.
Hunting had been increased—Jax and Sahari taking turns to keep things moving when the other was out. It had led to a bit of an issue with security being pulled often to go accommodate the need for numbers, but that was fixed by moving Scarlet and whoever wasn’t with Volta to patrol the walls while the Blade beat some sense into the other. It was a slow process, but seeing the girls give Scarlet a wide berth on principle was amusing enough for him to just nod in satisfaction.
Tel had been pulled into cooking more often to compliment Kelth, the male unable to reliably cook for so many people by himself. It brought up the mention of teaching others how to do it so that they could assist as well, so the grey-furred female found herself giving lessons to those who wanted to learn, much to her annoyance.
He would have loved to stop by and give her a hand, but he was pretty sure that nothing much of value would get done with him being close enough to play around with. He could already feel her tail brushing up his leg and inopportune moments being taken to pick up things from low cupboards—each action chosen to rile him up in a situation where he could do little more than grit his teeth and smile in front of amused pack members, knowing that any moment of true privacy would lead her to growing anxious.
That was something that Joseph had a change of heart with, as much as he wanted things to progress without games being required.
Though he was tempted to bridge the subtle gap that remained between them, he figured that whatever was keeping her usual aggressive flirting at bay—when doing such would likely lead to more than coy words or light touches—was something that would either be sorted out eventually, or it was a mental block that his new plan of action would remove.
The plan of action? Tease her back, of course.
It was something he learned about her a while ago, her obvious weak spot for the rare instance he was assertive, but wasn’t in his level of confidence to do with any regularity at the time. Now, given that she had all but outright admitted that she desperately wanted to take that final step, but couldn’t, he had the resolve he needed to get his revenge. If it so happened to egg her on enough for her to make good on her threats, then it was just a happy coincidence.
He did have mixed feelings about it being Pan’s idea, though.
It was moments like that night where he felt exposed by the bond. His white-furred girlfriend being able to spot even the slightest change in his mood, mixed with how closely she paid attention to the goings on around him, meant that she usually knew exactly where his head was at with things. It led to the small conversation where she seemed somewhat irritated with Tel delaying things and suggesting that he take a more aggressive role in the little back-and-forth they had going. If it wasn’t for the end of that night, he would have felt more guilty about thinking of the cook while Pan was in his arms, but she had made it quite clear how little it bothered her by initiating them indulging in one another.
Joseph shook his head to drag his mind away from matters that had very little to do with what he came to the office for. Checking over the last tablet, all he really noticed was a request for a shrine or a temple for those who wished to pray. Checking who had passed it on, it seemed that Pan gathered it from some of the newest members of the pack.
It wasn’t something he had a problem with, the Lilhun culture seemed to be pretty religious anyway, but he wasn’t sure where it would go. A smaller shrine could be placed pretty much anywhere, but something like a proper church or temple would eat into space that he and Nalah hadn’t accounted for, even if it was a more modest affair.
Deciding that it might be a good thing to have for what seemed to be a spiritual people, he gathered the tablets and placed them on the corner of his desk, setting out to go bother the Head planner with figuring out where the hell to put such a thing.
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“How much longer for the roof?” Nalah called out to the carpenters, the pair glancing down from the top of the skeletal structure to see where she was. It drew a snort from the blond-furred Head. She knew they had been flirting while on the job, the two having a very tentative relationship even since they arrived, but it seemed that they felt the need to spend their time subtly intertwining tails rather than finishing the section they were working on.
“We require but two more sheets,” the female responded, the male being too busy trying to hide within the hood of his coat. The observed action made her adjust her own to ease the thunderous patter of rain against the leather.
“I’ll go ask Rose or Mama. Try not to fall off there.” She chuckled as she waved them off over her shoulder, turning to go ask the Atmo for their assistance.
Perhaps some suns ago she would have cursed and yelled for them to focus upon their tasks, but her mind found itself at ease ever since that moon that Joseph had imparted his blessing upon them. It wasn’t lost upon the workers that her mark had changed her mood to one of a much more accepting individual, but a few jabs and sharp tones reminded them of who they were dealing with, which assisted in keeping them in line. Not that such methods were required much anymore since the extended pack had begun accepting the main pack as kin.
That alone was something she felt immense pride in, though if it was her own opinion or the one Sahari felt was only for the Hunt Mother to know. Either way, the relations between the two peoples were smoothed to the point where Pan and Mi’low rarely needed to mediate much of anything anymore.
Passing the various constructions and the markers to designate future ones, she mulled over possible changes that might be required with the expectation of subsuming the space between the settlement and the cave.
Though the time it took to walk to the rock-face was outside of what would normally be acceptable to connect with, the majority of the trip was simply navigating dense foliage and uneven terrain. It slowed the pace of any who wished to traverse the distance, even with a path selected from the occasional mining expedition.
Joseph had a point regarding the Atmo, their proficiency in felling the trees turning a longer journey to one comparable to simply walking along the walls of the settlement as it were. It turned an untenable expansion into something that she was considering heavily, given the unexpected influx of members.
That was something else that left her feeling light-footed and clear-minded.
Sahari had spent quite some time feeling that her position as a Head was something given to her merely to mollify her compunctions within the pack, but having so many whom would need a more direct paw in finding their place within the functions of the settlement meant that she would be rather busy when she was not hunting.
The bonded fulfillment and peace of mind distracted her from registering the voice that called out to her under the rain, leaving her to be rather surprised when Joseph pulled her to the side violently, herself caught on a rather sharp tilt.
“Hey! No inking Nalah!” the Human called towards an apparently enthusiastic Blade, the Head planner following his gaze to see the female pause in the process of preparing another of the balls. The assailant grinned, putting away her ‘weapon’ before disappearing behind the building she used as cover.
“You okay?” he asked, looking down at her. Mostly because of the awkward angle, she had ended up leaning backwards rather heavily, his arm across her back supporting her weight. With a shove, she was back on her own feet, turning to face him and seeing the results of the projectile coating the shoulder of his coat.
“Taking bullets for us now, Joseph?” she grinned, pointing at the splatter of ink. He shifted his hood to get a better look before sighing.
“Do I get something if I do?”
“Yelled at,” she stated firmly, a nod of her head given to assert her certainty. “Your mates would be rather cross if you were to do as such.”
He raised a claw to argue, closing his paw into a fist as his lips drew thin to concede the point. “Fair. Anyway, Church.”
“Church?” she asked, tilting her head with a raised brow. The rain pelted her face, forcing a sneeze to expel the water that entered her nose. The Grand Hunter chuckled, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the den.
“Come on. We’ll talk inside.”
She let herself be guided, choosing to pull her hood down to protect herself from the rain. She only freed her vision once the doors to the Hub closed behind them. “So what were you asking about a church?”
He shook off the water, wincing when some of the ink splattered as well. “Fuck. But, yeah. There’s been a request for a shrine or a small church. Figured you guys would like that.”
Nalah flicked down her hood with a paw, shaking it off when the water started soaking into the fur. “I wouldn’t expect you to wish for a place of worship.”
Joseph shrugged, strangely unconcerned about the matter. “A lot of you guys seem to subscribe, so I figured it’d be nice to have somewhere to feed into it.”
“If you wish. Though, we would need to accommodate it in our plans.”
He pointed a claw at her lazily. “That’s the thing. Where?”
She drew a breath as she looked to the ceiling in thought, an exhale preceding the words. “Perhaps near the Hall? We intended to keep the space around it rather clear, but we could adjust the surrounding plots to suit the need.”
He nodded a few times. “That would work, I guess.” His eyes flicked up to her own, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “So, how’s things with Sahari?”
She snorted, patting his shoulder with a paw as she turned to fetch the Atmo, the topic of conversation shifting away from one that her input would be required. “Unlike Jax and Harrow, I’m afraid you are not invited to our chambers.”
“Even if I asked?” he called out to her teasingly. She glanced over her shoulder to return the mischievous expression.
“Beg, perhaps. Then you may be allowed to observe.”
She giggled at the amused shake of his head. “No respect around here.”
She spun on her pad, pressing open the dormitory door with her back as she remarked before it could finish closing. “Assuming what Harrow had told me is correct, I believe it was you who preferred not to disappoint two females at once. I am merely saving your dignity.”
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The look on his face was priceless. A mix of shock, offence, pride, and genuine gob-smacked amusement. The barking laughter that mutely pierced the door had her chuckling in return as she made her way to fetch Mama.
She was glad they had patched their relationship. It was fun to speak with him.
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Bratik held up a paw, slowing the advance of his pack. Two readied their new bows, them having taken a few test shots to get a basic grip on the ballistics. Given that these weapons would allow them to strike before they were seen, it was a great boon that they had all followed their instincts and assisted the new Grand Hunter.
Peering through the trees, the source of the sounds of threats and combat became clearer.
High Hunter Hasen had apparently taken issue with something, going as far as to seek the head of Grand Hunter Toril so as to take his station by force. The male in question was not in sight, but his pack had cornered the comparatively weaker group, forcing them to seek the dense foliage for cover and visual impairment. Those who did not were swiftly disposed of in the melee.
Bratik was thankful for the eccentric Grand Hunter and his required garments for his direct pack, the members easily discernible even when some were held hostage amongst the others. Three were held at knife-point, demands for the male to reveal himself yelled into the forest as fighters scoured the surrounding area.
They watched, waiting for an opportunity to safely disassemble the aggressors so that they might leverage their ranged armaments to dispose of those they could without risking their own. The clouds above the yellow leaves darkened, a trickle of rain prickling the crowns and drowning out the slightest noises, scents began to wash away slowly by the ambient mist it left in its wake. It would make their vigilance all the more required, but it would also hide their presence.
A hiss from his pack drew his gaze towards an advancing Lilhun not donning the more coverage-oriented upper-wear, their knife drawn and brought to bear as they searched through the bushes for remnants of Toril’s pack. Nodding, Bratik gave permission for his members to engage if they came too close.
It didn’t take long.
Using a tighter grouping of trees to break the line of sight, a faint twang sounded as an arrow pierced the throat of the male. A subsequent rush impaled the victim through the heart, a paw gently guiding the fading one to the ground so as not to alert the others. The member retrieved the arrow, confirming that it was still serviceable before placing it back in the quiver after wiping it off in the grass.
Blood was drawn. It wouldn’t be as pungent with the waters washing away the tell-tale smell, but they would still need to move quickly.
They stuck as a group, flanking far behind the hostages and searching Lilhuns. A second scout was removed when they stumbled upon them, the fool opting to swing their sword instead of alerting their pack. The armour gifted upon them by the Guardian deflected the blow, opening the side of the attacker to be acquainted with a knife. A paw silenced the scream as another finished the job.
Bratik and four of his own moved swiftly, eliminating those that they could without being heard. They were far from the station of a Blade, but their creative use of the ‘snares’ allowed them to entangle the weapon of another. Long enough for an arrow to save the one who had been pinned in an otherwise unnoticed scuffle, anyway. The annoyed look from his escort was tempered by the concession that he would likely not have breath in which to exhale in frustration if Bratik had not loosed the projectile. The glare that the ash-furred male imparted upon him spoke of a lecture to be given once they had returned to safety. For now, it could wait.
“High Hunter,” one of his escort whispered, closing in with an urgency to their voice.
“What?” he hissed in return, his focus being on trying to fabricate a plan to separate the hostages from their captors.
“We have been found.”
Bratik turned, a hesitant fear crossing his muzzle as he wondered what might possess whomever encountered them to remain silent. His eyebrows raised as he gazed upon a curious Blade, their form almost blending in with the foliage due to their equipment. It seemed to be the pelt of one of the six-legged beasts, cut and treated as camouflage.
The female held a knife to the member’s throat, her head tilted in passive interest. She seemed to observe the bow and armour Bratik wore for a while before breaking the silence with her hushed voice, the volume being just enough for him to perceive over the rain when he strained his hearing. “You are not of High Hunter Hasen.”
He swallowed, slowly placing his bow over his shoulder and holding his paws out in display of compliance. “I am High Hunter Bratik under Grand Hunter Trill. We were petitioned by a wounded member of Grand Hunter Toril to assist.”
She seemed to consider his words, her emotionless stare burrowing a hole through his skull until she deftly slipped her knife away with a flick of her tail as a flourish. “Are you in possession of medical supplies?”
He glanced at his pack, one hesitantly raising a paw to remain quiet. They had learned of the value in the odd glowing plant when observing the insect kit tend to surface wounds and had collected some while on their return. It was apparently a suitable gauze and would accelerate healing by some factor. It would be of no help for fatal wounds, but it would stymie bleeding for lesser.
She gestured for him to display it, a claw kept to the handle of her weapon. She raised a brow at the luminescent flora.
“It is better than bleeding out,” Bratik assured her, trying to ascertain her motive. “We have enough for some wounds, but not enough if there is much to be done.”
“We will gather more if it does not require processing,” she stated flatly, a glance in his direction changing it into a question. He shook his head, opting not to mention the Grand Hunter’s comment of Atmo saliva interacting favourably with the plant.
She flicked her eyes and ears to the side, slipping into the brush without a single sound, the equipment making her vanish within moments. Bratik tried to follow what may have caused her to recede into the brush, but his search was silenced as a sword was dropped over his shoulder, a body doing the same after a moment.
“They have discovered your traces,” the Blade announced as she stepped away from the corpse, not nearly as concerned with maintaining a sensible volume. He hoped it was because she had confirmed that they were not close to any more of the pack who would hear them. “We must hurry if you are to assist.”
The High Hunter’s escort looked to him for orders, his eyes falling to the ground for a moment as he considered his options. A glance towards the hostages was noticed by the female.
“They are the ones who informed High Hunter Hasen of our path. They have forfeited our protection when their loyalty wavered.”
He stopped himself from nodding absently and accepting the loss of those three. A question bubbled from within, driven by thoughts he knew not the origin of. “Why did they divulge such a thing?”
“It is not our concern.”
“Why?” he doubled down, some part of himself seeking justification to abandon those in need.
She eyed him impatiently. “For their lives. In doing such, they have taken them into their own paws. The betrayal is not our duty to resolve. Assisting the Grand Hunter is.”
He shook his head, certainty in his voice. “Our duty is to aid those in need. Those three are as much. Unless the wounds you seek treatment of can not wait for our involvement, then we will save them.”
The Blade narrowed her gaze. “Time is short.”
“Then, as you said, we must hurry. No?”
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Following the instructions of the Blade, they spread out, three of them drawing the bows they had while the other two used the cover of bushes to get as close as the mist-laden air would allow. The rain dripped from his fur, obscuring his view as moisture caused him to blink away the bleary effects enforced onto his eyes.
His arm burned from holding the arrow nocked, the target perfectly remaining within his sight, yet he could not let loose the ammunition. Not yet.
Heartbeats passed, his ears ringing from the prolonged strain. Doubts clouded his mind, thoughts of the recklessness of his actions haunting him. It would be his fault if his members were to pass here. It would be his decision to put them in danger.
Perhaps they had wished to do as much, but it was his order that allowed them to do so. Though a portion of himself felt compelled to act upon his morals, those morals found themselves at odds. He wished to protect those who were not in a position to protect themselves, but he must also care for those whom he was directly responsible for. How does one choose when to risk their own for the safety of others?
A pump of his heart coursed fresh resolve through his blood.
It was not a matter of weighing his pack versus against another. It was weighing how much they could do with what they had. A fool would seek to do more with less, never noticing nor amending their plans when the tools they used to assist slowly failed under their use. That was not what he was doing. He knew they were of little force, but modified by great utility. They were firmly in a position to do this.
They were guided by their faith.
The signal came, a snap of a twig in the opposite direction of them, breaking the moments between shouted demands and waning patience. None of them heard the brush rustle in time to react to the swords between their ribs. None heard the twangs of arrows taking flight.
The only sounds that were heard was the collapse of the captors around the hostages, the crying group startled into a compliant silence.
Bratik awaited a softer snap, the sound cutting through the rain with perfect clarity as the splintering of the branch used to deliver it textured the noise. He motioned for his pack to proceed, the closer of them untying the captives and helping them to their feet while the High Hunter remained alert.
“I’m sorry. They threatened to kill my mate. I couldn’t let them do that. They said that they would let her go.”
He shook his head slowly, a firm expression remaining on his face at the pleading male. “I am not here to judge you. I am here because there are those in need. Flee west. Our cart is nearby. Await our return and we will ferry you to my settlement along with those we recover.”
The male nodded feverishly before bolting off in that direction, the other two who were freed taking off after him. A tap on his shoulder had him exhaling slowly.
“We must move. The Grand Hunter can not wait.”
He looked at his bow, a thought to the number of arrows they had in usable condition giving him pause. “How many more must fall?”
“By your paw? None.”
He glanced over his shoulder, concern evident. She allowed a small smirk.
“Your hunt has concluded. All you are required to do is treat those who are in need. Come.” She spun on her pad, walking silently away. Bratik got his pack’s attention, gesturing for them to follow before they lost track of their guide.
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The state that awaited them was not one of cheer. Several Lilhuns had deep gashes and wide penetrating wounds. Most of those were beyond the means they had available. Some were pressing paws to their wounds, inspection proving that immediate medical attention would be required.
Bratik thrust a paw towards their impromptu medic, receiving several strips of the plant that would act as a critical component to the care taking place. Without a suitable alternative, he gathered his saliva and spit onto the flora, rubbing it throughout before hastily shaving down the surroundings of the wound with a knife. Before the male could complain, he pressed the wound together and slapped the ‘healroot’ over it, drawing a scream that was only silenced by the Blade’s paw.
“This is your idea of medical care? Salivate and infect their wounds?” she hissed, ears snapping from point to point to ensure that the male’s agony had not drawn the attention of any they might have missed. The High Hunter dismissed her completely, foregoing responding to repeat the process on the next flowing laceration. Though she seemed irritated by his methods, a quick glance to the rest of the pack doing much the same silenced further chastisement.
The male had been treated, confirmed to be outside of other help they could assign, and promptly ignored in favour of others who would be better assisted by their actions than their words. After several more, the Blade was delegated to fetching more of the plant, a task she accepted after snarling at their barbaric methods. It mattered not to them. They had but a single purpose. Save who they could, and only then would they listen.
It took a long while, triage being assisted by those who were lucid enough to stave off the anemia of others until Bratik’s pack could reach them. Eventually, they closed through the ranks and were hesitantly shown to a thin male.
White fur, though some patches that were visible through the open and torn clothing showed blackened patches that seemed to be of chemical burns rather than fire. He donned a coat not unlike what Bratik had seen the Human wear, though this was made of thicker materials. Likely to discourage such damage reoccurring.
The oddest thing about the male was the utter disregard for his injuries, his arm held to the wound on his stomach with a passive smile and little concern for the pack surrounding him fussing about the need to maintain pressure.
As the voices confirmed, he was Grand Hunter Toril, the male turning an eye to cheerily smile in their direction. A wave uncovered a long cut that started under his rib and ended at the hip on the other side, the fur underneath stained a crimson hue.
“I was pondering who might be so kind as to offer their assistance. Greetings, I am Toril. My gra-” The Grand Hunter was interrupted by the Blade forcibly grabbing his arm and pressing it into his wound, a wince being the only indication that the male had noticed at all. “M-my gratitude for your help.”
Passing the gap of speech in which he would normally introduce himself with all the pomp and tradition, he pulled his knife and, with the assistance of the white-furred male shooing the Blade, began treatment.
“Oh? Discovered medical applications of such a plant, no? I had dismissed it as but a decoration once Idee started using it for her dresses.” The Grand Hunter chuckled, flinching when the Blade pulled his ear to keep him still. “Ah, Precious, I still require that.”
“Then you will be silent and accept the treatment,” she hissed aggressively, the sight startling Bratik. A glance around at the remains of the male’s pack suggested that it was a repetitively common occurrence, however.
“Don’t mind Tersa,” Toril dismissed with a huff. “Always so worried.”
“If you would stop getting yourself into trouble, I would have not the need to be.”
“But what else might I do? This planet is terribly dull if I do not take the chance to examine much of it.”
The Blade, Tersa, pulled with more force as Bratik forced the wound closed and applied the bandage, two being required due to the sheer size of the cut. “I will lock you within a steel bunker if you so much as think of wandering off again.”
The Grand Hunter chuckled, only a slight pain to his voice as the High Hunter finished his tending. Satisfied that it was about as well treated as it was going to be, at least with the materials they had on paw, he stood back to properly introduce himself.
“Greetings, Grand Hunter Toril. Apologies for my impropriety, but time was of the essence. I am Bratik, a High Hunter under Grand Hunter Trill. We were petitioned by one of your pack for assistance while we were returning to my settlement.”
Toril scratched at his chin in thought, blood staining his chin in the process. “Trill... Trill... Ah! Yes! The one who fusses over his kit so often. How is he? It has been quite a while.”
The ash-furred High Hunter paused, a blink required to dismiss the casual regard that a male of high station was giving him. A questioning brow to the Blade was returned with a defeated roll of her eyes. “I’m afraid I am unaware. I am new to my position.”
The chemist grunted in understanding, the tone shifting to disinterest as quickly as it had started. “I see. Well, we appreciate your help, but as you can see, we have naught to return it with.” He glanced at the pack around him, a paltry fifteen that varied between enfeebled to simply seriously injured. “It seems that my short time as a Grand Hunter has collapsed.”
“Are you not able to regroup?”
Toril snorted, a dry amusement colouring his breath. “With Hasen aiming for my head? No, I am quite destined for the Void.”
Tersa flipped down her hood, the black-dyed fur revealing beige roots as the rain pressed it to her skin, the yellow leathers wrinkling in a way that displayed the crude stitching that was just barely holding together. Her eyes burned into the High Hunter, the serious expression juxtaposing the respectful bow she gave. “High Hunter Bratik of Grand Hunter Trill, I beseech thee, offer asylum for this foolish Sheath.”
Bratik drew breath to deny, his pack was in no state to fend off one free from the treaty. Grand Hunter Trill might promise little else than a swift end for those who tarnish their promise, but Hasen had done nothing against it. It was an agreement to prevent Grand Hunters from squabbling for power over one another, not prevent said packs from facing internal strife. Were Hasen to reach for the ash-furred male’s den, there would be little stopping him from assaulting it and claiming interference.
His refusal died in his throat, the female’s eyes catching the instant he had decided against it and turning strained with sorrow. He drew his lips thin.
“I am afraid I am not able to defend your Grand Hunter with my meagre position. I would be slain by Grand Hunter Trill for sullying his name if I attempted as much.” The Blade shunted her eyes closed, falling to disbelief as he continued. “But. I am in contact with one who would be able.”
“Who,” she snapped out as a demand, rather than a question. He held a paw up, the other reaching into a pouch on his person. He retrieved a small silver tablet, the two sets of curious runes being nigh indecipherable to his eyes.
“The one who seeks those this is meant for.”
Tersa snatched it from his paw, examining it thoroughly before passing it to Grand Hunter Toril. The male quirked a brow as he inspected it. “Whom does this one seek?”
“The insects,” Bratik answered calmly, a look of cautious doubt crossing both their faces.
“Whom is the one seeking?” Toril added, an upward lilt showing that his genuine interest was gained for the first time since they had met.
“That,” Bratik started, gesturing to the injured pack, “must wait until we escort you within my domain. I may not be able to shelter you indefinitely, but I would be remiss if I simply sent you along as wounded as you are.”
Tersa opened her mouth to argue, Toril holding up a stained paw to still her lips. “Accepted.”
With little else to be said, they set about helping along those who had trouble walking. Given that a large portion of the surviving pack sustained wounds to non-critical areas, that was most of them. Bratik took the dubious honours of assisting the Grand Hunter, much to the Blade’s displeasure. Still, she was required to scout ahead to ensure that they would not encounter more hostilities.
The sight that made him pause was the captive male who had divulged the path of the pack under duress. He held the body of the female who requested aid, his silent embrace showing that he had plenty of time to release his grieving to the damp air. He glanced back to see who was nearing, lowering his eyes when he realized exactly who was approaching. He called out to them, his voice soft and hoarse.
“I believe I am ready to suffer the consequences.”
Toril shook Bratik off, taking an unsteady step closer to the male holding his deceased mate. “What have you gained from your betrayal?”
The male stayed silent, unable to find an answer.
“I see.” Toril took a breath, a disconnected smile donned upon his face as he eyed the cart and the items within, stepping away to get a better view. “Tersa, Precious, if you would.”
The end was silent, the Blade dropping from a tree to pierce the temple of the male. The body fell limp as the Grand Hunter went about politely asking his pack to assist in sorting the contents of the cart so as to better fit those who were unable to traverse the distance ahead of them. With as little signature as she imparted upon delivering the blow, she pulled her knife free, wiping it on the male's fur and deftly sheathing it before taking to the branches again.
“Let us go,” Toril announced cheerily, taking a spot amongst the pack. It was subtle, but he favoured one side over the other as he sat, discomfort from the wound present only in the tiniest of fashions.
Bratik found himself looking back at the pair, the male still holding his mate with a sorrow that transcended the Void. He walked to them, dragging their bodies to a tree and positioning them so that he may still hold her past this life. Unable to hold a proper burial or pyre, he did the next best thing, words passing through his muzzle in a way he hoped would please the one whom he thought a gift from the Hunt Mother.
“May the Great Hunt offer you shelter, so that you may bask in the protection of The Guardian to embrace your love forevermore.”
“High Hunter!” Toril repeated his summons. “I must insist we leave. We know not if the rains will cover our egress forever.”
He nodded, taking a moment to silently ask if the mist would substitute the smoke that was present the last time the Hunt Mother was requested. The male had acted to save his mate. It may have ended terribly, but it was a misguided action of one who wanted nothing more than safety. Surely, the Hunt Mother would offer him penance so that he might rest with her.
Licking his dry lips, he took a breath to call out to his pack and those not of it who would be travelling on foot for a while. He had saved who he could, and that was the best he could ask of himself. Bratik forced himself to project his voice clearly, fixing the bow on his shoulder as he gestured for one of the pack to assist.
“Prepare to move! We reach the settlement by two suns. Weapons ready and ears up!”