The Thrill of the Hunt | ONC 2022

twelve - mother and father

For the first time, Theresa didn't dream. Her anxieties didn't follow her through the night. As she wakes, the glow of the sun tears through the tent. Birds chirp softly outside, background music to the movement of people outside. Beside her, Leela sleeps on a separate cot, blanket up to her chin. She looks at peace. Theresa wonders if she looked like that when she slept.

Sitting up slowly, she finally takes in the rest of the tent. Exhaustion had hit her too hard last night, despite her day of rest. Eighteen years of running and not sleeping can't be made up for in a day. She had no energy to pay attention to her surroundings when Meline brought her and Leela here. There are Naturians sleeping in cots that circle around with the shape of the tent. Some of them are bundled in thick blankets, others sleep with just one. Theresa's blanket is on the ground.

At the end of each cot is a little table holding a set of clothes, and things that look like a long bowl, but the opening is shaped weird. She stares at them for a while, trying to figure out what they are, when she realises it's what humans wear on their feet. Swinging her legs off the side of the cot, pain sweeps over her, digging at her side and her arm. They're better than yesterday. Nyko was quick to inform her that Naturians heal faster than humans, but the process is still painful. She grits her teeth as she rises, pressing her feet into the ground covered with cloth. It feels weird under her toes, but she doesn't let her senses take control.

Theresa walks away from Leela and the others, leaving the clothes and shoes behind. Covering her is only a thin tunic and small trousers; clothes of Meline's. They're wrinkly and molding at the edges of the creamy colour, but it's more clothes than she has ever worn at one time. Her broken arm, shoulders and back are showing, and her trousers only reach halfway down her shins. She should change, but that thought escapes her as the curse purrs deeply within her. 

Using her shoulder, she pushes against the opening of the tent, stepping out into the rest of Valhaven. The sun is still rising; its rays can be seen, but the sky is still a bluish grey. The cold bites at her skin like a bug, insignificant and survivable. She's worn much less on much colder days. Everything looks different without the rain or cover of darkness, but that doesn't inhibit her ability to retrace her steps. Unsure where else to go, she sets off to find the pavilion, leaving the tent in her wake. It doesn't take her long to find—no, hear something to lead her the rest of the way.

"Stop making excuses, cousin. Look at me in the eyes and tell me you don't know. Just admit it!"

"I'm almost there, I promise!" Meline's voice strains. Theresa's ears flicker and she follows. "I'm telling you, we just need to talk to the Elders. If I bring my information and their information together, there has to be a link."

"We're running out of time, Mel. Don't be so naïve."

"Enough, please." Arthur is there. "You'll give me a headache before the day even begins."

"Really, Arthur? I'm trying to think here. I don't need your nagging." And Laurie. Definitely Laurie.

Theresa comes around the corner, stepping between the tents. The pavilion sits as it did the night before, a smaller fire crackling in the centre. She watches the three of them from a distance, listening as they argue. Although she has no idea what a cousin is, she can only assume it means they're family somehow. They all share the same nose and cheekbones; even their mannerisms coincide. It's almost like they take turns in chewing on their fingernails. Laurence has brown hair, though, and his eyes are darker. But that is the only thing that separates them.