10
She could not stop shaking. Even as Shihiri nudged the massive head of the dire wolf with her leather booted foot, Únik imagined the creature would rise to its paws as big as her head and attack them once again. Looking at her whale hook, blood dripping from the curved tip, she saw it fall from her fingers and she stepped away, rubbing her slick palms against her furs.
Barsa lay to the side, licking the three stripes upon his fur where the beast had clawed at him. He seemed unperturbed by his injuries and, in truth, the dog appeared to have avoided worse. As Únik stumbled towards her hound, she saw the claw marks were only skin deep and Barsa's ears pricked up as she neared him. Grabbing him by the fur on his neck, she bent almost double to bury her face atop his head, holding him tight.
"We cannot stay here." Shihiri moved towards the other, normal sized, wolf that she had killed, ripping the arrow from its eye and wiping the blood on the wolf's fur before returning the arrow to her quiver. "The other wolves will want to feast upon their dead leader."
In a daze, Únik rubbed Barsa's neck once more, nodding, even though she didn't know if Shihiri saw the nod or not. She didn't want to stay here anyway. The place had taken on a dark, miasmic tinge to her eyes. It had become a place of death. Standing, she felt the discomfort of her wet clothing beneath her furs and felt her ruddy face flush. She, a grown woman, losing her composure in such a way! She didn't doubt Hatyara would have something to say about that.
Thinking of the Ice-Kin, she looked around for her and saw the girl still with her back against one of the boulders. Her eyes remained wide, the now extinguished branch still held away from her body, shaking as her arms shook. As her entire body shook. Shihiri moved to Hatyara, taking the branch from her hands and tossing it upon the scattered remnants of the fire.
Hatyara blinked several times and looked at her now empty hands. If Únik didn't know any better, she could imagine the Ūtharan beginning to cry. That is, until the girl pushed herself away from the face of the boulder, brushing down the furs tied about her and then running thin, delicate fingers through her hair. Her face became composed and calm, but, behind those almost white eyes, Únik still saw the fear.
"Is anyone injured?" Lifting her chin in the air, Hatyara looked around before setting eyes upon Barsa. "Oh, no!"
"He's fine. He'll live. Don't fuss over him or he'll start to expect it." Únik said the words, but she had only this second stopped hugging Barsa, herself. "Shihiri says we should move."
"We still need rest, but we'll find none here." The Fae's head inclined as the sound of howls erupted from beyond the boulders once more. "They won't bother us now. They have feasting on their minds."
"They will eat ... this?" Wrinkling her nose, circling away from the dead dire wolf, Hatyara moved towards Únik and Barsa.
"They'll eat anything, especially if its still warm." Laughing, Shihiri bent over, sticking fingers into the blood dribbling from the beast, rubbing the liquid between finger and thumb. "Still warm. It'll keep them from starving for a week or so."
Hatyara made a visible swallow, her hand reaching out to grip the fur sleeve of Únik's coat. Únik didn't tear her arm away, as she would have in the days before. She understood how the Ice-Kin felt. The presence of the dire wolf, even dead, gave her goosebumps. Moving away, allowing Hatyara's fingers to slip from her sleeve, she began to gather their belongings.
She saw the whale hook, discarded on the ground, and realised she had come along on this journey without any preparation. Events had forced her to react without thinking, without pause. Now, she stood beside a dead monster, with two people she hardly knew and her hound, her favourite creature in the world, lay injured at her feet.
The whale hook, and what it meant to her, was only a symptom. Even had she a proper weapon, she doubted she could have performed any better against the beast. Were it trained warriors that she had faced, she didn't doubt that she would have fallen as the dire wolf had fallen. She was no warrior. Barely even a hunter. She was a scavenger and she had become dragged away from everything she found comfort in.
"The dog? Can it walk?" With a new look of respect, Shihiri smiled at Barsa as Únik nodded. Lifting her nose into the air, the Fae looked as though she sniffed for their next destination. "Good. There's another stand of trees, not far, with a freshwater pool. Not as defensible. It'll have to do."
Patting her leg, Únik called Barsa to his feet and he struggled to stand, his tail wagging with furious strokes as he brushed against Únik's leg, gazing up at her. She scratched his head and, bending to retrieve her whale hook, began to follow Shihiri through the gap in the boulders.
Únik felt Hatyara gripping onto her sleeve once again as they moved and began to feel a little sorrow for the Ice-Kin. She had, Únik surmised, never had to deal with anything like this in her life. Neither had Únik, but at least Únik had struggled and fought to survive in the wilderness of the wastes and the remote loneliness of Tracis' Midden.
Hatyara had led a life of privilege. That much seemed certain. A life of parties and nobility. Of kings and courtiers. Far older than Únik, if she was to be at all believed, she had not seen half the things Únik had. As Únik watched the back of Shihiri, sliding between the trees without any effort, she knew, instinctively, neither she, nor Hatyara, had suffered what the Fae girl had suffered. Hatyara, possibly the eldest among them, had seen and done nothing with her life in comparison.
As they moved through the green wood that surrounded the clearing with the four boulders, Únik could feel predatory eyes upon them. Every so often, she would catch a glimpse of something moving, out there among the evergreen branches and thin, tall trunks of the trees. Once, she felt she saw glaring, intense yellow eyes, staring out from beneath a fallen, rotting log, but when she looked again, there were no eyes to see.
After a while, they began to hear the howls of the wolves, the barking and the growling, recede from their ears. If what Shihiri had said was true, the wolves no doubt now fought among themselves for the tastiest parts of their fallen leader. Únik felt grateful for that. She wasn't certain she could fight anymore. Not even against normal wolves. If another dire wolf appeared, she doubted she could lift her whale hook, let alone fight with it.
Passing the tree line, Shihiri pointed towards another clutch of trees, a few hundred feet away, and their pace quickened. They needed to rest and to sleep, especially after the battle within the boulders. Únik couldn't complain about a little extra speed, she doubted she could feel much more exhausted. Hatyara, however, had other ideas.
"I must rest." The Ice-Kin had held Únik's sleeve since leaving the boulders, now her fingers slipped away, and Hatyara folded her legs beneath her, drawing in deep breaths.
"No, princeling. Not far now. Keep moving." Turning back with a look of impatience, Shihiri pursed her lips, looking across the vast plains towards the west, from where the pyramids sat in their long, uninterrupted line. "We stick out like flames in a window! Keep moving!"
"I can't! My legs wobble, my heart crashes against my breast! I am tired!" Raising her voice, Hatyara slapped the ground before her. Únik sighed. "And I'm not a prince! Only the eldest can succeed my father and be called a prince. I am only a High-born."
"Take my supplies and I'll carry her. She weighs little." Slipping her sacks from over her shoulder, Únik held them out for Shihiri to take, but the Fae girl shook her head. She strode towards Hatyara, gripping the Ice-Kin beneath her armpit, dragging her upright.
"No. She walks, or we leave her. Get moving." With a flick of her wrist, Shihiri sent Hatyara spinning towards the next stand of trees. The look on Hatyara's face could have killed at twenty paces.
"How dare you! Don't you know who I am?" With little hands balled into fists, Hatyara faced up to Shihiri, though the Fae did not look as though she felt in the least intimidated. "I am Hatyara Virrisenshi, third born of Ūlassiara of the ..."
"Don't care." Grabbing Hatyara's shoulder, stopping the Ice-Kin in mid-speech, Shihiri spun her around, pointing her towards the next clump of trees, lifted her leather booted foot and pushed the Ice-Kin forward.
Hatyara stumbled forward a few feet before catching herself. She turned, her face a mask of fury, ready to berate Shihiri even more, but, with a quick, aggressive step forward, Shihiri caused Hatyara to jump back with a yelp. The Ice-Kin's furious face burned even more, but she clamped her mouth tight, glared at Shihiri with undisguised hatred and then turned, holding her head high as she strode towards the copse of trees ahead.
Únik fought to stop herself from laughing, but, to the side, she saw Shihiri had no such qualms. The Fae girl laughed, her whole body shaking as she set off to follow Hatyara. As she passed Únik, she gave her a cheeky wink. In that moment, Únik began to admire the young Fae.
-+-
Barsa lay upon his side, enjoying the attention as Shihiri placed the mixture upon his wounds. His tail made lazy wags, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. As soon as they had reached the small collection of trees, surrounding a small pond fed from a stream that ran from a set of hills to the north, Shihiri had begun searching for, and gathering, several plants. She had mushed them together to make a paste that smelled awful, but appeared to soothe the painful looking scratches in Barsa's side.
Únik had taken the opportunity to undress, removing her furs and then her woollen clothes beneath. Still embarrassed at losing control of her bladder, she turned her back to Shihiri and, especially, Hatyara as she scrubbed them clean. She knew Hatyara would have something to say about the layers of excess weight she carried, but she no longer cared what the Ice-Kin thought.
Naked, she felt the bite of the cold until Shihiri built a fire and then, as she placed her clothing over sets of branches to dry beside the flames, she sat with her arm across her modest chest. She had taken the opportunity to scrub herself in the cold waters and felt much better after rubbing away the sweat, dirt and urine that had gathered over the last few days.
Both Hatyara and Shihiri followed her example, after a while, though they did not need to wash their clothing. They only washed their dirt ridden bodies and then returned to the comfort of their clothes. Únik wished she hadn't allowed the fear to take hold, not in the way it had. Now, she felt like a child that had suffered a nightmare, wetting the bed and awaiting admonishment from a parent.
"Your dog fought well." Breaking off a piece of bread she had pulled from her pack, Shihiri nodded towards Barsa. The hound had fallen asleep, his legs twitching as he made low growls, still fighting in his dreams. "If not for him, I doubt we would have triumphed."
"He's a good dog." She felt her face soften as she looked towards her dog. "I once saw him stand up to a snow bear. It reared up at him and he stood his ground. Luckily, the bear decided it didn't need to eat that day."
"My coin would have been on the dog." Chewing upon the bread, the young Fae chuckled as Barsa's hind legs kicked out. "You did well, too. That hook thing is a dangerous tool."
"I did nothing." She glanced away, reaching out with the hand that didn't cover her breasts, checking her woollen clothing. The furs would take all night to dry, but the wool only needed another hour or so. "You can handle that bow, though. I never learnt how to fight."
"I learned from my father, before slavers killed him." Shrugging, Shihiri leaned down, picking up her bow. She didn't seem at all concerned about talking about her father's death. Stringing the bow, she held it out to Únik. "Here. Test the pull weight."
Hesitating, not wanting to show her nakedness, or her overhanging belly, she took the bow. It felt heavier than she expected, giving it a sense of strength. Around four feet from one tip to the other, the bow had a deep curve, the tips curling away. The string felt tight and, glancing at Hatyara as she moved her other arm from her breasts, she tried to draw the bow back.
Únik was not a weak person, Tracis' Midden and the wastes devoured the weak, but, try as she might, she could not pull the bow back more than a couple of inches before she had to release it. Surprised, she tried again and managed to draw it back a whole extra inch. Shaking her head, she handed it back to Shihiri and the Fae girl nocked an arrow, drew the bow back and loosed in one fast, smooth motion. The arrow thudded into a tree around twenty feet away.
"How can a child your size do what a brute of a woman like her cannot?" Striding across, Hatyara tried to take the bow from Shihiri, but the Fae did not release it. Not straight away. Hatyara fell back when Shihiri did let go.
Setting her feet shoulder width apart, Hatyara held the bow as though she had used one before. Holding it across the top of her legs, she placed three fingertips upon the string, took a breath, and then raised the bow upright, attempting to draw it back. The string barely moved. Scowling, Hatyara lowered it, took another breath and tried again, with the same result. She frowned as she passed the bow back to a chuckling Shihiri.
"Don't be ashamed. It takes practice to draw that bow back." Unhooking the string, she slid the loop down, releasing the tension upon the bow before placing it back beside her. "Given enough time, either of you could draw it. Size has nothing to do with it. You both need weapons. If not a bow, a staff, if not a staff, a sword."
"I'm fine with my hook." Únik shivered, checking her clothes again and then hugging herself, surprised that she felt the cold on such a mild night. She saw Shihiri shake her head. "Why not?"
"You did well with it, but it requires a long, high sweep, dropping down on an enemy and leaving your entire body exposed." Shihiri illustrated the point with her arm, bringing it up and down in a long arc. Then she waved a hand towards Únik's body. "What you need is something fast. Something you can use to block and thrust. I say, break the hook from the shaft and use it as a three-quarter staff."
"I can't." Dipping her head, she avoided Shihiri's eyes. "It's the only thing I have left. The hook and my dog. Everything else is gone."
"Fair enough. This bow? That's my favourite thing in the whole world. I love that bow." Leaning down again, Shihiri picked up the bow and tossed it behind her, raising her eyebrows to make her point. "Gone. I can get another. Property is a prison of your own making. As soon as you're not bothered whether you have anything, you can have everything."
Uncertain what point the Fae actually tried to make, Únik thought she couldn't agree. Things gave her a sense of belonging in a world that did not seem to want her to belong. A world that had wanted rid of her from the day she was born. She and her mother had almost died, the day of her birth, were it not for a wandering priest of Elia Kha who happened to choose that day to pass through the village. Her father had always blamed her for almost killing her mother.
"I have lived knowing I could have anything I wanted." Since returning the bow to Shihiri, Hatyara had sat down, listening to the exchange. Now, she had stood up again, moved behind Shihiri and retrieved her bow, placing it back beside the Fae. "Having everything does not make you happy. Having nothing does not make you happy. But, sometimes, having one special thing in your life? That can. Be it a bow, a hook, a dog, or a duty. One thing can make the difference."
The Ice-Kin turned, then, returning to her spot beside the fire and laying down upon the fur bedding. Shihiri exchanged a look with Únik, but Únik could only shrug a shoulder. She had no idea the Ice-Kin loved or cared for anything and this show of empathy did not sit right with how the woman had acted up to now.
"We can't afford weapons, anyway, even if we knew how to use them." She reached for her clothes once again, but they still felt too damp. She wished they would dry sooner. Not to stave off the cold, but to hide her large body.
"Couple of hours in a tavern, with those lovelies, and you'll have a purse full of coin." Laughing, Shihiri pointed towards Únik's breasts. Únik didn't think the girl could be so cruel.
"I'm not a prostitute! And no-one wants a fat woman spreading their legs for them!" Not caring whether her clothes were wet or not, she dragged them from the branches and began clothing herself, her cheeks burning.
"You're not fat! What gives you that idea? You're curvy. Womanly. Men like that." Shihiri didn't seem to notice her words had upset Únik. "Besides, you wouldn't have to spread your legs. I know a few places where you could get a few silver Claws, just for a grope. How do you think I could afford that bow?"
Shihiri gave Únik another one of her winks, laughing, and Únik wondered if there were any truth to that statement, or whether Shihiri only played games with her. Regardless, she would not allow anyone to grope her breasts, not for silver Claws. Not even for gold Talons. In fact, she doubted any man's hand would touch her ever again and, as she laid down in her uncomfortable, wet clothes, she realised she was quite happy about that.