I think Rawley meant for me to go into my tent—I didn’t. That would be too much like a sullen, pouting child. I was none of those things.
Besides the tent was just another cage. Confining, censoring. I didn’t want to sit and think; I knew my reasons for what I did. What I wanted--what I needed was to get away from all the eyes watching me and the expectations. If I had a lumpy brown cushion under my butt and had been reciting healer’s recipes for the past week and a half, that time could have been exchanged for nearly any period of the past three years. I had even been reprimanded for defending myself.
I shoved my way out of the clearing, ignoring the branches and twigs that scraped my face and hands, and caught on my clothes. I wasn’t in the mood to squirm around on the ground underneath them. As soon as I stepped out of the clearing a fresh breath of cold wind stung my eyes. Dried out my mouth. I ignored that too.
I didn’t need empathy. Pity. I was fine on my own. I didn’t need the stress of trying to handle more people. I didn’t want to drown.
No one seemed to care, or even understand, those basic facts.
They just kept pushing and prodding with their own interests, not caring if I suffocated under the weight of them all. I wasn’t weak, but even I knew I had limits.
I didn’t catalog my surrounds like I should have as I stomped through the snowy forest. Didn’t mark the position of the clearing in relation to where I was going in my mind. Making sure I didn’t stride headlong into a tree was the most I focused on.
Which is how I ended up laying face down in the snow with a thin cord cutting into my calf. The mortification of being caught in a snare swamped my indigent anger, so I didn’t know if I should cry, laugh, or scream. Or even if I was capable of any of the three.
The apprentice of a trapper fleeing from one trap straight into another. There was a rumor to set tribe members snickering. If facing Rawley was going to be difficult after what I said by the fire, that was doubly true now.
Useless.
I hit the snow and rolled over. That, despite everything, was something I knew Rawley would never say.
The stars were clear and bright through the tree branches and pine needles. For some reason they looked closer than they had in Flickermark. Like if I found the tallest tree in the forest and climbed it, I could reach up and touch them.
“Tough day?”
I gritted my teeth as Crest’s clear and precise voice slid into the crisp night air. The last thing I needed or waned was another conversation with her. She didn’t seem to mind when I failed to answer. Instead, she settled against a nearby tree to my left.
“Me too. My partner’s apprentice said I should get touched by a shamble man, but I wasn’t really in the mood to lose my soul.”
I gaped at her.
She took that as an invitation to keep going as she spread her hands. “I think we need to come to an understanding.” She indicated herself before gesturing towards me. “I’m not good at getting to know new people. You have some vendetta against it. Perhaps we can both skip the small talk and agree to be friendly without it going any deeper than that?”
I did my best to ignore my current embarrassing situation and add scorn to my voice. “Why do you care?”
The awkward half smile returned as she gestured back the way we came. “Rawley. She wanted her partner and her apprentice to get along. So for her sake, why don’t we act polite and watch each other’s backs on hunts? And for our own sake, it doesn’t need to go any deeper than that. No deep questions asked, no difficult feelings.”
I could keep her at a distance…I wouldn’t be in danger of drowning then. Some of the panic that had been suffocating me since Crest sat by me at the campfire dissipated. I could be civil for Rawley’s sake.
“Fine.”
After another long moment, I sat up with an inward sigh and started to use my eating knife to cut the snare from my leg.
Crest watched as I worked. “She does good work, doesn’t she? She set a handful of those around while we were collecting tinder earlier.”
I figured as much. All huntresses used traps and snares to some extent, but Rawley’s specialization was a rare thing. Few others used the devices as much as she did.
I stood as soon as I cut myself free—determined to set the stupid incident behind me. Crest took up the cord and began to further fray the cut ends with her own knife once I dropped the snare.
My eyebrows drew together. “What are you doing?”
She quirked her lips mischievously. “Having a bit of fun.”
I watched as she continued to fray the cord before setting it back onto the snow. Then she went about meticulously making rabbit tracks with her hands as best she could. She even covered the cord slightly with snow to make it look like the rabbit kicked snow back onto it and added slight drag marks to make it look like it was favoring a leg.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
I was drawn into the ruse despite myself. “What about our footprints and the spot where I landed?”
The mess of disturbed snow and tracks were currently making Crest’s efforts pointless.
Crest shrugged one shoulder. “Find a fallen branch with needles.”
I listened even though it grated at me. It was better to have something to do, something to focus on. It took me a while to find a small branch that had broken off a nearby tree and gotten stuck in the lower branches. Once I spotted it, however, I was able to shake it free fairly quickly.
When I returned Crest was putting the final touches on her rabbit tracks leading up to where the snare had been. We used the branch to obscure our footprints and further disturb the snow where I had fallen, so that hopefully it looked like it was caused by the rabbit’s struggles.
I was ready to head back to the camp at that point, but Crest insisted that we had to get rid of the branch and make new tracks, so that they didn’t just abruptly end before the rabbit tracks. Crest threw the branch up into a tree and we both tactfully didn’t mention my hurt shoulder. Then we made it looked like I had paced back and forth in a spot away from the snare while we had our conversation and Crest stood nearby. After that I was vainly trying to cover up yawns as Crest led me back to camp.
I saw some surprised looks when we entered the clearing together, but no one, including Rawley commented. She just watched quietly as I entered my tent and Crest made her way over to the low burning fire. Fellen was already asleep when I entered, no doubt lulled to sleep from the warmth of the heat stone despite her worries. I quickly followed her example.
- -
The next morning Rawley collected me before Fellen woke up to check on the snares she set with Crest. It wasn’t really a three person job, but I didn’t argue. Crest walked on Rawley’s left, holding her hand, while I walked on her right, a couple steps behind. I didn’t think that would save me from the conversation that was to come, but it felt safer.
Rawley spent the first few minutes of the walk soaking up the sights and sounds of the forest around us, and I did the same just in case there was a quiz later. The air was still cold, but there was also a brush of warmth when I stepped into a patch of sunlight. A few birds trilled and called to each other while the rustle of branches and pine needles filled in the silence whenever a breeze brushed by. The snow was bright in the sunlight and, despite the cold, I was glad for the trees’ shadows since they made it easier to see. The snow resting on trees’ branches and the icicles here and there did make for a pretty scene, however.
“I heard you reached an understanding?”
My attention narrowed down to focus on Rawley—and tangentially Crest. I knew I hadn’t fully experienced my mentor’s ire yet, and I wanted to be fully prepared.
“We did.”
Crest nodded in agreement.
“Good.” Rawley stopped walking and half turned to face me. “Was this like when you threw Fellen’s sling into river?”
I couldn’t meet her gaze. “Yes.”
She sighed. “I thought as much. Gimley?” She waited until I dragged my gaze up from the ground and looked at her. “Don’t ever invite such ill will onto my partner again. I understand that you have some…unfortunate things you’re working through, and my offer is still open, but there are some things I won’t accept. Do you understand?”
My chest tightened both at the thought of…no longer being her apprentice and what she could do to me if I ever had to take the brunt of her anger. “I understand.”
She nodded and we kept walking.
The first couple snares we checked were empty, the third held a dead fox that I was given to carry, and the fourth was the one I got caught in.
Rawley looked over the broken snare, disturbed snow, and fake rabbit tracks with a critical eye. I saw her stiffen a bit at the unexpected scene.
Crest put just the right amount of shock into her voice, so that if I hadn’t helped her last night I wouldn’t have thought it had anything to do with her. “One of your snares broke?”
Still, Rawley shot her a glance before taking another detailed look at the scene. Then a smile warmed her voice as she said, “You and your tricks,” before she leaned down to kiss Crest’s temple.
Crest rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “How did you figure it out?”
Rawley gestured to where I had fallen. “That disturbed snow is too big for the rabbit to have made it.” Then the tracks. “The paw prints aren’t detailed enough.” Finally she picked up the snare. “And despite what you did to it, the cord is too finely cut.”
It was true that our work in the daylight didn’t hold up to what I had thought we’d achieved the night before.
Rawley raised her eyebrows. “Might I ask why you decided to ruin a perfectly good snare?”
Crest ran her fingers through her hair and shrugged. “The opportunity presented itself.”
Rawley glanced at me, at the disturbed snow, at the snare in her hand. A soft huff of laughter escaped her before she cleared her throat. “I see.” She turned back to me. “Remind me to work on your trap related skills in the near future.”
Face and ears burning, I nodded.
We went to the last snare after that which did actually hold a rabbit. Rawley took the fox then, for which I was quietly grateful, in exchange for the rabbit. I think she wanted to give me some extra strength training through carrying them, but the dead weight of the fox, even over my good shoulder, had been a strain.
When we arrived back at the camp everyone was up and back around the campfire as breakfast cooked. Fellen got up and hurried over to me as Crest collected the rabbit from me. Rawley and her continued over to the fire to talk with the others while Fellen and I stopped in the middle of the clearing.
She leaned in close. “Are you all right?”
I tried to smile at her, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Yeah. Rawley wasn’t that harsh.”
Worry clouded her face. “You didn’t mean what you said last night, right?”
I couldn’t bring myself to explain my reasoning for what I’d done or take it back. I still needed the protection. “I…we reached an understanding.”
I knew that she knew that I was holding something back, but even though I could see the questions hovering on her lips, she kept them to herself. Instead, she said, “I know you just went through it with them, so I’m not going to push you, but you shouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not when you experienced how horrible they are.”
I nodded to appease her, though I wasn’t sure I could keep the promise. “I know.”
Fellen smiled and it felt like a sliver dug into my chest.