After about thirty minutes, the tension had settled completely between the four women. Everyone but Azabela's grandmother was walking alongside the slow wagon. Sorella Havers had decided it was best for her feeble bones if she sat inside the carriage, and Iris certainly didn't argue. None of them wanted to share in the woman's presence at the time.
"So," Iris was the first to talk. "How long have you and Hench known each other? Outside of guardian business, that is," She spoke to Azabela casually, but Iris said it in a sort of jab at her mentor --a way to let Hench know that she had caught her in her lie. Because surely the two were acquainted outside of the annual wagon-guarding. The mighty woman said nothing right away, but gave Iris a glare that sent frost right into her bones.
"I'm sorry," Azabela sputtered, a sudden hint of intense amusement present on her face. "What did you just call her?"
Iris was confused. "Hench. That's what she goes by."
Azabela's next laugh was jovial and gut-wrenching at the same time. Iris was still puzzled, and Hench only shut her eyes and took a deep breath in. Azabela saw the guardian's expression and began to laugh even harder. "Hench." The word danced playfully on the archer's lips. "Did you give yourself that name, Rhalla?"
"I did not," Hench said. "It was what was assigned to me after I completed my guardian training."
"You never told me?" Azabela stifled the laughter.
"But of course, girl," Hench said, casting eyes over to Iris. "It is only customary. Guardian names are only generally used by guardians in the sanctuary. I didn't think it important. But yes, they do call me Hench."
Azabela cocked her head to the side, grinning like she had more than a little to say. But, after a minute, she sobered and only nodded. "Hench suits you."
"Do you know her, Azabela?" Iris asked. "Outside of these missions?"
The archer looked at Hench once, and the both of them shared a look of understanding --a look of agreement. Then, Azabela replied, "I do not. She was the first guardian ever to help with our shipment. We've always requested her since and she's ever been kind enough to accept." Iris narrowed her eyes at the both of them. She still believed Hench was lying to her... and had successfully brought Azabela into the ruse. Iris couldn't understand why it mattered so damn much where Hench met the girl.
The rogue only shook her head as they continued on.
The rest of the day was a fairly quiet one. Hench and Azabela were polite, but the apparent closeness of the two had halted the moment Iris had pried. All day, Hench was giving Iris the "stink-eye", if ever there was a such thing. The wagon moved slowly down the path and it took all Iris had to not run off somewhere.
By the time they made camp that night, Iris's feet were sore from the constant prodding of her ground beneath them. All the women were peaceful as they minded themselves. Sorella was quietly warming her hands and Hench was busy setting up tents. Iris kneeled on her bedroll, absentmindedly sharpening her weapons while Azabela seemed to be surveying the area. The archer paced around for a few minutes and then stopped at Iris's side.
The rogue felt a rough pat on her back. "Feeling bored?" came Azabela's question, accompanied by a sly smile. Iris didn't even get the chance to answer before the archer spoke again. "I can see it in your face. Come now, get to your feet."
Everyone at camp stared at the two girls now. Iris shook her head in surprise. "What?"
"You heard me, legend girl," Azabela quipped. "Stand up. I hear you're sneaky enough. You're coming with me."
"To where?"
"To hunt," Azabela shrugged. "I'm bored. You look bored. I haven't fired my bow in a few days with all the transport preparations and plus," Azabela paused and grabbed the bow off her back, "extra venison never hurt anyone. Come now."
"Is that wise?" Hench asked, eyeing the archer with sudden intensity. "Things prowl the woods at night."
"Kind of counting on that, actually," Azabela countered with a wink as Iris stood and dusted off her black robe. Iris wanted to laugh at the words, but decided she'd already pulled Hench's strings enough one day. She held it in, but indeed... the rogue liked Azabela. She had a sort of fun, playful spirit.
"Dangerous things," Hench emphasized. She grabbed her hammer. "I'll come and make sure you both are safe." The words were kind enough, but Iris hated the notion that she had to be protected. She was no longer a little girl --hadn't been for a long time.
Azabela pointedly rolled her eyes. "Truly, the elk would never see you coming." Sarcasm dripped off the words like a leaking spigot. Just then, the archer grinned again. "Come off it, Rhalla. I know the hunt. I know the wilds. I am fine."
Hench narrowed her eyes. "There is still the matter of my trainee."
"Your trainee," Azabela began, "has fought worse than wandering animals, I'm sure."
Try as she might, Hench found she could not refute the girl's logic. It wasn't often trainees wore big shoes upon coming into the guardian order. With a resigned sigh, she only said, "take care. And please... please stay safe."
"We will," Azabela promised with a courteous tuck of her chin. Her mentor only heaved a deep breath before permissively nodding back in response.
Azabela grabbed Iris's arm and quickly pulled her from the camp and away from the trail entirely into a thick encumbrance of trees. Hench watched over them as they left, and for a second, the woman swore she could feel grey hairs sprouting from her head.
Both Iris and her new companion slowed their pace once they were about a hundred steps into the moonlit wood. The archer gestured quietly for Iris to follow, surveying the ground for tracks. In this moonlight, they'd be harder to see. With a hand, she felt the earth, hoping the sense of touch would yield upturned dirt. The archer's keen eyes now moved about the area, searching for clues.
Did she find any? Hell if Iris knew. The rogue just followed behind, as quietly as possible. Suddenly, Azabela's focus fell on a nearby tree. She walked immediately and began inspecting its trunk. A satisfied smile curved on her lips as she looked now from one tree to the next. Iris didn't understand what she had found, but the archer knew that the bark was marred on each respective tree. Oh yes, something had certainly sharpened its antlers on them. And not only that, she found fresh indentions in the soft dirt below.
There were the tracks. Azabela followed them, finding signs of a small herd of deer that had passed through maybe an hour ago. A bit of fur here, a bit of droppings there. Fresh ones, by the look. And by the smell too, holy gods. The animals were getting ready to bed down for the night. But where? To Azabela's knowledge, they shouldn't be far. And she certainly meant to find them.
Iris watched immediately as the archer's entire gait changed. She now stood on the balls of her feet. Her hips swung confidently as she moved smoother and quicker than a snake sliding across grass, making no noise whatsoever. As she went, she observed random bits of nature for gods only knew why. Even in the starlight, Iris saw the ferocious, untamed way Azabela stalked after her target...
Her prey.
Surely, Azabela was the predator... the huntress... the quiet cat in the darkness.
Finally, she stopped altogether. Iris came to a quick halt behind her, still making sure to keep as silent as possible.
Azabela said nothing, but motioned above the both of them. Without further ado, she scaled the tree nearest to them. The muscles under her thin leather armor rippled in perfect accordance and dexterity. Watching her climb was watching elegance in its deadliest form. Iris did well enough --very good by normal standards, even. But it couldn't match the effortlessness of Azabela, who Iris presumed had done this many times.
Once they got well enough towards the top, Azabela readied her bow, stringing it with three sharp-stinging arrows.
"Three at a time?" Iris dared to utter, noting that there were only about seven left in her quiver. "But what if you miss?"
"I can make more," she mouthed. It was then that she met Iris directly in the eyes. "And I never miss."
Without another word, Azabela stood on the branch and walked to its edge with unwavering balance. She motioned forward, and Iris squinted her eyes to see... deer? Iris could hardly tell what they were looking at. Whatever the animals were, they were resting for the night. Now, the archer took aim. The arrows left with a thrum of her bowstring.
Azabela seemed satisfied enough, but Iris couldn't see enough to tell whether or not she'd hit her target. No sounds of distress came from the herd, however. No sound at all. It didn't seem a good sign for the archer.
"Well?" Iris asked.
"Now we spook the rest of them," Azabela shrugged. Her gait broke and she scaled back down the tree. Iris followed suit. And sure enough, once they got close enough, the animals indeed spooked. The first to sense their approach almost seemed to hiss a warning to the others, who all immediately jumped up and ran away.
All except one. Iris looked on in amazement at the only deer still lying down. It was dead as she'd ever seen anything, all three arrows gouged deep, the top half of each shaft buried into the thing's eye.
"It didn't cry out!" Iris whispered.
Azabela nodded courteously. "It didn't suffer. A principle of mine."
Iris noted the handiwork with extreme respect. "Hench said you were lucky, indeed. But this... I find hard it to believe this was simply due to good fortune. You are a fantastic shot. How did you learn this?"
Azabela began pulling out the arrows as best she could. "You'd be surprised at what you can learn and how quickly you can learn it when you have hunger as a motivator."
"You went hungry?"
"Yes," Azabela replaced the two arrows she'd been able to salvage. "I did. We did... for a time. I was eleven when I started hunting, right after my mother was murdered. She was a seamstress --and a good one at that. That was how we'd fed ourselves. And when she was gone, well... someone had to keep us alive. My grandmother surely couldn't go out with her age, and my father had a bad case of..." she stopped, and took a deep breath, "He had a bad case of bloody neck gash."
"He was murdered too?" Iris's stomach curdled at the thought.
"As it were," Azabela answered. "He got into a fight with my mother. He did that a lot. When I was young, I was instructed to go lock myself in my room when it started and not come out until the morning. Usually, I came back to a battered mother, making breakfast and assuring me that daddy was okay now. Except one morning, I came back to her lying on the floor, cold and rigid. Things were broken and her head was bashed in from the back. Naturally, that night when he fell asleep, I snuck in and slit his throat to the bone." Azabela spoke in an eerie calm. "Only human life I've ever taken. It was horrifying, true... but never shall I regret it."
Azabela paused, letting the news sink into Iris. She went on, "So I lived alone with Sorella after that, ever since then. She is my mother's mother. She's a troubled woman indeed sometimes, and believe me when I say she can be difficult, but she's the only real family I have left. I love her. And so I learned not only to hunt, but also to identify plants for her sake. She always had a knack for salves and medicines, especially because she was always caring for my mother's injuries before. Once I was capable of bringing her the plants and herbs she needed, she found her new zest for life. And such is our business now. I suppose we saved ourselves."
"Damn," was all Iris could think of to say. "I guess you did save yourself, then. That and you're a damn good archer."
"Aye," Azabela now grinned. "Thank you."
"You surely didn't need me at all tonight, that's for sure," Iris pointed out. Now, the rogue narrowed her eyes in curiosity. "Why did you bring me?"
Azabela laughed at Iris's straightforwardness, but answered the question nonetheless. "So that you might convict me of being a liar away from Rhalla --so that you might accuse us both far beyond her earshot. I'm saving you some tough love, later. Really. Though you might have already earned it."
Iris had already forgotten that bit of earlier suspicion, especially with Azabela's morbid recounting. Even still, she grasped at any details she might learn of Hench. "So you did know each other."
"Was there ever any doubt?"
"How?" Iris dared to ask.
"That, I'm afraid, I will keep to myself," Azabela said, and held the rogue's gaze. "Now for the other reason I brought you with me. This is regarding... your curiosities. You've done no wrong, of course. But I want you to hear what I say now... and I want you to hear it clearly. I would not dig into Rhalla's past if I were you. Not yet," Azabela's eyes went soft. "She's stubborn and won't tell you anything for what might be a long while. And for good reason. She's known horrors beyond even my imagination."
Iris went cold at that statement. What could be so bad that the archer, with what happened with her dad, couldn't even comprehend it?
"But," Azabela continued after her words sank in. "If you give her time, she'll give you her story in full. If you give her loyalty, she'll return it tenfold. I know she will. She has to, Iris." The archer gave her a serene smile, and her eyes now almost looked through Iris. "You don't know it yet, but not often does she let people into her life at all. You should be honored by that and you should know that she's got an endless capacity of love for everyone who wriggles their way in. Just don't push her."
Iris nodded. "Understood."
Now, Azabela beamed. "You must be something special indeed, Iris Gwenneth. Now make yourself useful and help me skin this deer."
The rest of the conversation was about Iris's adventures. Azabela had asked about them with great interest and the rogue recounted the details for what had to be the five-hundredth time. Even still, it warmed Iris's heart that she seemed to enrapture the girl. And as they talked, Iris began to understand why Hench took this mission every year.
Azabela was kind, still having a kindred innocence to her despite the horrible circumstances of her upbringing.
In turned, the archer found she liked the trainee as well. She might've been impulsive, but her sincerity shined through her very persona.
They walked back together quietly, bringing as much of the deer back as they could to the camp. Surely, it would feed them well. For many nights even, if they salted and preserved the meat they didn't eat. It wasn't a terribly long walk, and when they got back, both could hear the crackle of fire and... a conversation?
Iris watched as Hench spoke to Sorella. The words were cryptic, seemingly. "How is he doing, Sorella?"
Now, the grandmother's face no longer held a scowl. Instead, it held a measure of sympathy. Whatever relationship dynamic the women had was far beyond Iris now. "He's doing well. I promise," Sorella told the mighty guardian.
Iris could have listened in --figured out what they were talking about. Yet she remembered Azabela's talk earlier. Anything she'd learn of Hench she should learn from Hench herself.
And with a single nod at Azabela, Iris made their presence known.
A/N -- Sorry for the morbid! Let me know what you guys think! Also, 3:14 a.m. here... so forgive the typos or whatever because I'm going to go fall into a coma now.