Hunters

"With blood?" Elloreah asked, pulling away from him instinctively, eyes wide. "What does that mean?"

"Runes, the kind that stay, must be set with blood," Mingan explained patiently. "They will need to be inked later, but scars will hold for a while."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "If you must," she said resolutely.

"Good. I think your back, on the shoulder will be best. My blade is sharp. I'll make them small," he added, as a reassurance.

She nervously worked her way out of the borrowed shirt as he cleaned his blade. He paid her no mind, his thoughts on the seven runes he must set into place. They were simple marks, mostly lines, and should take little more than quick, precise incisions. Inking her later would be more time consuming.

She had pulled the remnants of her gown off, covering herself with the shirt he'd provided her with. She pulled the long tangle of red hair over her shoulder, twisting it in her hands. She'd smudged the protection spells on her arm in the process, and he could feel her anxiety, her fear and shame as. She sat curled in a tight ball, at least as tightly as she could manage. Bandages wound round her torso, and he knew she must still ache from the wound.

He knelt beside her once more. "I'll be quick, but don't move. If I mess this up, we'll have to start over in another place."

She nodded.

He put a hand on her shoulder to hold her steady. She trembled beneath his grasp, but to his relief, did not flinch. One stroke, then two.

The blood welled and he wiped it away. Three, four, five, each a half inch at the most. Soon, he'd lost count, only focusing on the marks.

Once the runes were marked out on her flesh, he wiped away the blood before setting the spells ablaze with a whisper of words. She stiffened, then relaxed as the magic ebbed.

"There," he told her. "Get dressed. We need to get moving."

She turned to him. "I don't want to stain your shirt."

"Easily replaced." He dabbed carefully at the marks. They were shallow wounds, the blood clotting in clean lines. "They're healing already." He went to his pack, gathering up his meager supplies. When he turned back to her, she was dressed, frowning down at her tattered and stained slippers.

"I don't have any spare shoes, I'm afraid." He shouldered his pack ready for the final leg of their trek to the ranch.

"I'll make do." She glanced up at him and forced a smile. The cracked lip and swollen eye were fading already. Her own healing abilities were mores sluggish than he'd expected, but they seemed to be working now. Perhaps helped along by the Wolf's powers.

It was strange to see her like this. To no longer be put off by the not-quite-human quality of her. She was just a girl in that instant, travel soiled, her hair hastily pulled into a tangled braid, dressed in his ill-fitting spare clothes.

"What?" she asked, and he realized he'd been staring.

"The glamour suites you," he commented before turning. "I can almost overlook what you are."

***

The forest was alive, though brown and dry in this particular part of the mountains this time of year. The closer they drew to Zephyr Ranch, the more green and lush their surroundings became.

"I must admit, I am rather fond of your forest." Elloreah had paused to examine one of the great trees of the region, a redwood. "There is history here, not only in this lone vessel, but in the roots far below." She laid a hand on the red-hued bark, closing her eyes briefly.

"There are long stretches of groves of these great trees elsewhere in this range." he said, nodding at the solitary tree. "Strange that there is one here by itself."

"Indeed." She gave the tree a comforting pat before starting off after him once more. "It is a lonely soul. It knows that there should be others...."

"You speak to trees?"

She shook her head. "Not so much as I hear them. Their voices are muffled since you placed the spell upon me, yet I still hear them. It was not like this at home. The hum of magics in the air muted the cries of nature. Your world is strangely silent, devoid of magic and yet, my senses have become painfully sharp."

That would account for her being able to sense him so clearly. Her perceptiveness was troubling, she had guessed at far too much already.

A gunshot sounded, not far off. It echoed off the surrounding mountains. She stared at him, eyes wide, startled by the sound.

"A rifle, a weapon of the mortals. Nothing to worry about, it's hunting season. They're hunting deer for their meat and hides." Mingan explained. "We'd best get moving, we don't want to be mistaken for a dear and be on the receiving end."

Elloreah hesitated, staring hard into the forest, as if attempting to see through the thick stand of trees. "Mingan," she called as he made his way further up the trail.

He turned, annoyed at the delay.

"There is something, someone in trouble."

"They're not our problem," he told her. It wasn't any of his concern if some fool hunter shot his foot off.

Elloreah, though, had other plans. She was moving off the trail, stepping gingerly due to the deteriorating condition of her slippers. "I am concerned for this person..."

"Damn it, girl." Mingan grit his teeth, moving back down the trail and catching up with her in a few long strides.

He couldn't sense what it was that had drawn her into the trees. There was nothing in the way of magic that was worth noting, no reason to be straying off trail. He scented humans and a cook-fire. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"I don't know if you remember, but there are a couple of monsters after you," he snapped.

She shook her head, red hair wild and falling loose from its tangled braid. "There is a woman. She is afraid. Someone is hurting her." She turned to him with a piercing, accusatory gaze. "Is this the normal course of things in your world? Do your people seek out lone women to victimize?"

He raised a brow. "Not all of us." She shook her head again, a sour look of contempt twisting up her face in a way that he found rather amusing.

"This is serious, Mingan. There is someone in need of help, and we are in the position to provide them aid."

"Helping you used up my generosity quota for the month."

She turned from him. "Then I will go alone."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're injured and..." he sighed and gave up, watching her disappear into the waist tall grasses and ferns. He had no choice but to follow. They came to a clearing, revealing a tent and dwindling fire.

Mingan growled. He smelled blood and could pick out the scents of five individuals. Rustling and a cry from the far side of the tent gave him a good idea of their location. Elloreah had paused, frozen in place, her breathing coming in short hitches. Tears coursed down her cheeks. He couldn't sense whatever it was that she did, but he could guess well enough the situation.

"Damn it." They were humans after all, easier dealt with than any sort of mythic creature. "How many? I scent five, but I assume at least one is the victim."

Elloreah nodded. "Her companion is... barely alive. Three. There are three men." She looked to him once more, her large green eyes pleading. "Please, Mingan. Do something."

"Stay here," Mignan ordered. He was walking into trouble, and there was no telling what may become of her should she chose to attempt to involve herself. Elloreah obeyed, crouching down in the grass, rocking slightly, her hands clamped over her mouth. He could only hope she stayed put as asked.