John had tried to keep up as best he could but with the wounds across his stomach and the deepening abyss of shadowed trees, he had quickly lost the direction she was going. He continued to fumble in the dark of the woods for a while until he saw a glow break through the thick grove. He moved towards the light as it danced and flickered, casting living shadows across his face. As he grew closer, the tall oaks and pines gave way to a small clearing with a canopy covering most of the sky. He could see glimpses of the moon that broke through the sparse twigs and leaves. The light was being cast from a small fire that burned bright in the middle of a clearing, two logs on either side formed a point towards an open-faced hut. The clearing was only a few feet away from the outskirts of the forest, a design he had seen at the abandoned site he found two days ago. Unlike that camp, no organs were strewn about the camp, much to John's relief. The memory of the stench caused his stomach to churn, but he doubted if anything was left in his stomach to expel. The sharp pressure at his back was the only warning he received that something was behind him.
“Why are you following me?” the shadow asked in a harsh tone. “Was saving your life not enough?” she pressed, the melodic twitter of her voice carried strongly in the wind.
“I’m fairly certain I saved myself, actually.” He answered dryly and was quickly rewarded with a dull smack to his head for his effort. The pointed pain was back at his back in an instant, noticeably sharper than before.
“Don’t be a smart ass, you’d be dead if it wasn’t for me. On two occasions, actually.” She said with agitated condemnation. “At a heavy personal cost, I might add.”
“Could you explain how you saved me? Preferably without something sharp piercing my spine, not that I’m complaining.” His sarcasm brought another painful crack to the head, but thankfully the sharp pain didn’t return. He was shoved forward into the clearing, nearly tumbling over the log into the burning fire which he imagined was intentional. He turned and was facing the woman from the shore, Knife in hand, her eyes danced with the memorizing reflection of the fire. She squinted impatiently, a warning for him to not do anything more stupid than he already had done today. “Is the knife really necessary? I've almost died twice in a very short amount of time. At this point I’m kind of wishing someone would succeed. Besides,” he took his blood-soaked hand away from his stomach, the pain now returning from his overexertion. “I’m not in any condition to fight.” He opened his jacket slowly and tossed the sheathed knife at her feet.
She rolled her eyes sheathing the knife behind her back. She walked towards the log opposite John and kicked the knife back to him as she passed. He picked it up from the ground and purposefully placed it out of his reach. The woman sat with her bow beside her sitting on the edge of the log, her quiver stayed looped on her belt as she rested her hand on it. The orange and yellow lights of the campfire hardened her face as she inspected John, her eyes flashed with the flicker and crackle.
“Who are you loyal to? Why are you here?” She asked harshly after a few moments. John felt as if her eyes were drilling into his soul.
“My loyalties are to myself and my family.” He said nervously, hoping she trusted his honesty. “I’m here looking for a missing girl. She was supposed to be gone for a season but hadn’t returned. I was sent to find her and return to Granjun.” The woman’s eyebrow raised as he mentioned the village. “Supposedly she was seen heading into this forest. I found an abandoned camp a few days ago but there was no trace of her. I figured she either didn’t actually come this way or had been taken by tribals.”
“So, you decided to wander the forest by yourself, with that?” she pointed to the knife. Admittedly, John knew it was a bad idea but with few other options he didn’t have much other choice. “Do you even know what tribe might have taken her?” she pressed, her expression telling him that she already knew the answer. John knew better than to lie in moments like these, his mother’s eyes seared into his mind.
“No, I don’t. To be honest, I didn’t think there was much difference between them. Insane forest people are insane forest people.” He told her, taking an air of indifference toward the matter. It might have been a trick of the light, but he swore he saw a glint of contempt in her eyes before she stood up.
“Well, you’re not wrong.” She stated dryly as she rummaged through a large sack by the hut. He recognized the style of bag; the same rucksack he wished he had when he started this journey. The pattern was different than his father’s though, a combination of blocky dark and light greys covered her bag. His father had given him a brown and green one as a child, but his mother burned it along with most of the other things his father had given him when she left the village.
“You know I’ve been looking for a rucksack like that. It would be extremely useful to me on this trip. Do you know where I could get one?”
The woman went stiff and looked back at him through squinted eyes. “How do you know what this is? I thought you were from Granjun?” she questioned, her eyes searching for any form of deception.
In truth, he knew it was a bad idea to identify himself as a gov to strangers, but since she owned one, he assumed that she was a gov too. He started to sweat and regretted putting his knife so far away. The intense moment dragged on for eternity. He didn’t want to reach for the weapon, he knew that would lead to his very quick and painful death, but he certainly didn’t want to remain defenseless if she turned on him.
How did this faithful, if he was a faithful, know about rucksacks, or the military for that matter? She couldn’t tell what he was, but with that kind of knowledge he was dangerous. Even she was careful to leave the rucksack where people couldn’t see, if drifters or paladins found out it could mean trouble for her or at the very least her livelihood. She hadn’t expected anyone else her age to know what it was.
“You better start making some sense. First you wander into an irradiated zone and drink contaminated water, bringing nothing with you but a knife. Then you trick a Glasscat into killing the largest tusket I’d ever seen, ruining its pelt so I can’t turn in my bounty.” Her glare intensified as she spoke, her olive eyes engulfed in flames and power. “As if that wasn’t enough, you know about military gear that was almost completely destroyed or hoarded before you were even born. So, this next question is going to decide if you get that wish of yours. Who the hell are you and how do you know so much?”
John had no doubts she meant that threat. She tried to sleight something into her hands from the sack, John's heightened senses picked up on the threat immediately. It was the first time he considered that the water was contaminated by radiation, it certainly explained a few things. That was about all that John felt was explained as she spoke. He figured the glasscat was what she was calling the gulper, but he had no idea how she knew about the water he drank or what a military was. His father just called it a rucksack and said it could help carry more on trips. He knew that he needed to calm this discussion, or he would certainly get what he had wished for moments ago.
“My name is John, but everyone in Granjun just calls me Gov. I’ve been tinkering with machines for most of my life. I didn’t think anyone would want me dead for being one outside of the village though.” He spat out as calmly as he could, but he could feel the wave in his voice. Maybe he should just go back where it was safer for him if this was what he had to expect going forward. If he got that opportunity. A numbness took hold in his stomach that quickly stretched across his entire body. His head and eyes grew heavy, the world around him began to spin and the hard ground rose up to greet him into a dreamless sleep.
A Gov? Him? She doubted if this kid could be a gov, especially since he claimed to be from a village of faithful. They wouldn’t have let him stay if he was, but she could hear the fear in his voice and the hunter in her soul told her that he was telling the truth. She went to press him for the information when he started to sway on the log before closing his eyes and fell forward. She checked his pulse, still alive. She wasn’t surprised, all of his wounds had reopened. He passed out more from exhaustion than blood loss, she quickly deduced. She looked him over before retrieving her limited supplies for a second time that day. If he was a gov, he would be the dumbest she’d ever met.
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After retreating his wounds, she took stock of her supplies; two days of rations, enough material to repair her gear, reagents for her various serums, and enough herbs for a single dose of medicine. The huntress considered her options. She could leave the boy with enough food for a day and make her way home, his luck was enough to save him so far, and without a trophy she couldn’t collect on her new status. On the other hand, her uncle would have wanted her to escort the helpless boy back to Granjun, where she could try to explain what had happened and possibly still collect. Since he was from the town, she could at least get some credit and the preacher might still be willing to consider her a member of the community, even if he was a Gov. She knew that she really didn’t have much of a choice, a minor reward was better than no reward.
The huntress put her infirmed escort on her bed roll for the night, which meant she was pulling guard, alone with her thoughts. This forest could mess with people’s minds, a thought that brought her back to pack fang warning. Two “guardian beast”, as the tribe had called them, were dead now and that could lead to the river maw expanding their hunting grounds. She could scratch this forest off her list if that was the case, she had no intention of being hunted by “insane forest people”.
She wanted to be home with her father doing research and listening to him ramble on about his beloved Sam. She smiled at the thought, he would get so passionate when he talked about her. The smile faded quickly as she remembered that the council had not been too welcoming of her there and doubted they had forgotten her last stunt. She wished her uncle were here, he would know how to make the council accept her return. But he wasn’t, and there was no point in considering hopeless dreams like that. It only distracted the huntress, something she could not afford. She pushed away the girl and let her instincts take over. The shadow watched the forest, waiting for any unwanted guests.
The morning came, bright yellows breaking through the canopy with highlights of greens and shadows dotting the dewy grass of the clearing. Much to her dismay, no guests found their way into her bow’s sight, however she was able to catch a squirrel who made the mistake of turning its back to the seemingly empty shadows. Breakfast cooked on the skewer, the huntress relaxed and slept until the scent of perfection wafted in the air.
John roused at the smell of cooked meat, a delicacy he hadn’t tasted since leaving his home to find preacher’s daughter. He rolled slowly out of the makeshift hut, which was far more comfortable than sleeping in the open and saw the girl laying on the log asleep. His instincts told him she wasn’t, he had seen for himself that she could do just fine on her own and wouldn’t be so careless as to be fully asleep. He took a seat on the opposite log and produced his breakfast from his pocket. The hardtack was mostly still together, at least he wouldn’t spend a few minutes trying to break off a portion for today.
“Coffee is on my side.” The girl said without moving from her relaxed position. “Just make sure to leave me some, we have a long day ahead of us.”
“Thanks. But where exactly are we going?” he said, making his way to her side of the fire. He didn’t see anything that could be used to hold coffee, until he spotted the steam coming from a pile of ashes off to the side of the main pit. He carefully removed a beat-up kettle from the ashes, warm but not hot. Better than nothing he supposed. He produced his folding cup from his satchel pouch and poured a cup for himself and replaced the kettle.
“We can discuss that after breakfast. For now, we will sit here while I rest since I stayed up all night keeping you safe.” She opened one eye towards john. “Again.” She finished, hints of annoyance in her eye and voice.
“You keep saying that like I’m supposed to remember you doing something.”
She gave a heavy sigh and sat up, seemingly giving up on the notion she was going to get any rest now that he was awake. “How much do you actually remember of yesterday?” she questioned him.
His memory of the events was still hazy from before he woke up leaning on the tree. All he could recall was the fear and pain that was in his stomach. “Not much before meeting you at the river.” He admitted.
“Which time?” her only answer was the confused look on his face. She sighed again, pulling the skewered meat off the flame and separated it into two portions. She handed one to john and left her hand out. He handed her the piece of hard tack and took out another for himself. “Honestly I’m not overly surprised you don’t remember anything before the glasscat, you did drink from an irradiated river.” She said as he took a hard bite of the tack, washing it down with the much-needed coffee. “I saw you drink from the river and get attacked by the tusket, which I had shot with an arrow and thought I had killed. Then you ran away from me screaming. After you collapsed, I gave you some medicine and bandaged you up.” She looked at him with irritation, “But now all I have to show for my effort and loss is an idiotic faithful pretending to be a gov and a ruined tusket pelt that I can’t turn in for my reward.” She gave a fake smile to John. “But hey, at least I saved a life.”
Despite his own irritation at his circumstances, he was quite appreciative that she had saved him. He looked at the animal hides on her shoulders and realized she was the pooka that he had remembered, though he was much more afraid of her now than he was in his delusional state. Her humanity was far more intimidating than her potential of being a mythical creature. At least he could know with certainty that the pooka would have killed him, he couldn’t read this girl. He would certainly rather believe that she was responsible for saving him than any deity the faithful or tribes believed in.
“Well, if it’s just a pelt you need, I know where to get one. But it won’t come cheap.” He offered after a moment of silent contemplation over his breakfast. Her eyes drove into him at the mention of payment. “But not from me, I suppose I do owe you for the supplies at minimum.” He corrected quickly not wanting anything besides the eyes to pierce into his skull.
“You know someplace I can get a tusket pelt without having to kill another one?” she asked, her curiosity peaked.
“I know a man who collects samples of the animals around the area. He trades good salvage for intact animals, and he’s been known to sell hides after he cuts them open.” He hesitated briefly, “But he has a prized trophy tusket in his study, if you have a decent offer, he may be willing to trade.” He wasn’t completely certain the researcher would be willing to trade anything for it, but he felt that his attempt to even the debt between them was enough to be a start.
She leaned in over the fire, pointing the stick of meat at John's face. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to play me, but I don’t think you’re dumb enough to lie to me in your situation.” John felt moderately offended by the insult but was indeed not dumb enough to tell her. She wagged the stick at him. “If you can take me to this researcher, I will call our debt even. I’ll even escort you back Granjun when I go back.” her eyes grew dark. “But if this is a trick.” She left the threat hanging like a noose in the air. John ate his food in silence, hoping that the researcher still owned the trophy.
“So why were you even out here?” the huntress asked as she finished her meal and sat drinking the coffee from a stone cup.
“Honestly, I’m not sure anymore.” He resigned. “Like I said, I was out here searching for a missing girl. I found a note with Breader.” He saw the confusion in her eyes. “One of the faithful she was traveling with” He clarified. “But he died in an empty camp a few days ago, eaten by...” he let his voice fade away as he remembered the lights that had both drawn him to the camp and chased him away from it. The woman’s eyes had a hint of recognition but said nothing. “It doesn’t matter. I lost the trail and have no idea where she could be.” He sighed and stared at the meat in his hands. “At this point I’m just wandering around, hoping to find a body or another clue as to where she went. The note mentioned someone with a name, so if she would be anywhere, I suppose it would be with a gov.”
Even as he said it, the words didn’t make sense. Why would the daughter of a priest go looking for a man with a name, a gov? It also didn’t make sense that she would tell Preacher so offhandedly, seeming to try to put his fears at ease. There was something wrong with the situation, he knew. He looked up at the woman, who stared quizzically and bored at the same time at him.
“But I can’t go back to the village until I find a definitive answer. So, you need a pelt, and I need answers. We can get both in Mineton, on the other side of the mountains towards the ruins.” He pointed off in the direction of the old world. She looked in the direction, nodded with a look of tiredness and watched him finish his meal in silence. John mulled over the growing list of questions for Preacher and his daughter. Something was going on, and he wanted to know what.