Chapter Two
Jawn looked at Uta over the fire. “You were needed because you are the Last
Blood Virgin,” he said causally, and resumed poking the fire.
She froze, and dropped her brush all together. “A-are you serious??”
“All the others were killed or raped by Rakudo’s forces,” he half-smiled, “Most
were raped, then killed.”
Quite suddenly hot tears streamed down Uta’s face. Memories of her friends and
comrades from her days at the temple flooded her mind, followed enviably by
thoughts of their horrible fates. She looked toward her rescuer, but was shocked
to see a amused grin on his face. How? How can he be doing that?? With his face
tormenting her, and her thoughts tormenting her, and her very life tormenting
her, her calm exterior shattered into a thousand million pieces. “YOU SICK
BASTARD!!!” She leapt up, and literally jumped across the fire, and caught
Jawn’s throat with her right hand, and started blindly swinging with her left.
“How!! How can you laugh at their pain!?! HOW CAN YOU!?!?!”
He started to his feet, only to watch her fall, with her nails still attached to
his neck. He jerked her hand away. She grabbed his legs, and knocked him down,
and continued her unorganized assault on the stunned half-elf. He scurried up,
and got about five feet away from her before he stopped. “What the FUCK is wrong
with you?”
She curled up in a ball, and sobbed, “You aren’t even human, are you....”
He looked down at her, and bared his fangs. “WHY should I care about people I
never met!”
She hugged herself tighter, and whimpered, “You don’t have to care... Just don’t
laugh at their suffering...”
Jawn’s face screwed into a look of horrible pain, “Everyone laughs at my life,”
his voice was stone-cold, and just as hard, “No one gives a damn about me...
That’s the way life is.”
“No! It doesn’t have to be!” She looked up at him, “I was beginning to even like
you...” She meant to continue until you started acting like such a horrid twat,
but the look in his eyes stopped her cold. Those yellow eyes that must have been
his ‘scarlet letter’ all his life, they begged for all lot of this, probably
most notably of all right now was hope.
He took several steps toward the tear-streaked maiden, and murmured, “ You did?”
His voice was so small, unsure, so unlike him.
She sighed, and looked back at him before firmly replying, “Yes, I do.”
“Why?” He barely breathed the word, and in truth she could not actually hear it,
but she didn’t need to anyway.
“Why not?” She sat up, and looked out into the woods. “In the end, all we have
is each other.” She glanced back at him.
He frowned, and averted his glaze. “It’s time that we got some rest.” He quickly
retreated to his side of the camp.
Uta nodded sadly. She then when to makeshift bed, as well. She finished her
hair, lay down, and promptly fell asleep.
But Jawn couldn’t sleep for hours.
The two got up at first light, ate, broke camp, and left, all with a minimum of
words. After the intense night before, neither seemed ready to initiate
conversation again. They silently walked for about five hours on well marked
trail without incident. The next trail was more perilous, with rocks jutting up
randomly, and creeks cutting the path quite often.
Two hours after following that road, Uta tripped on a root. She said nothing,
simply got up, brushed herself off, and resumed walking. Jawn noticed a wound on
her arm, yet made no comment. He maintained his silence when she fell a second
time, but when she tumbled to the ground at third time, he picked up her pack,
and said, “We should rest. There is a clearing just up the road.” He supported
her arm as she stood.
After a few more minutes of walking, they reached a green opening that had been
made and maintained by travelers over the years. There was a neat fire circle in
the center, logs of varying sizes around it for seats, and a clear stream
nearby. He deposited her on one of the logs, and stood back up. “I’ll gather
some food for us now,” and he turned away from her.
“Don’t leave Jawn,” the girl’s soft voice pleaded. This surprised him. She
hadn’t spoken to him since the incident the night before, and he had thought
that she was still too mad at him to speak. His brow furrowed and he looked back
at her.
“Why not? Aren’t you hungry?"
Her face was down, so he couldn’t read her expression, but she seemed agitated
and worried. The half-elf unconsciously moved toward her to comfort her, and put
his on her shoulder. Her eyes lifted, met his, and he could see they were filled
with tears that just hadn’t quite spilled over. “Don’t leave me. Something’s
coming. Something I am too weak to fend off.” Her obvious frustration and
vulnerability struck him, but it was just not practical for him to sit around
because she was paranoid.
“It’s okay, I’ll be back soon.” His lips formed a sort of half-smile, which was
the best he could muster, as he was not used to dealing with this sort of
situation. Still, the look on her face made his chest hurt. “I will be alright,
this is a safe place.”
“Please-please don’t go.” She begged again.
He sighed resolutely, shook his head, and melted into the forest. She’ll be
fine.
After twenty minutes, he returned with the appropriate amount of provisions. The
forest was ripe, and he had found enough to last them for a day or two, with
some satisfaction. He felt quite pleased with himself and justified when he
stepped into the clearing.
All the contentment of the moment before was swept away, as he took in the
scene. He dropped all the things in his hands, and quickly moved to the spot
where he’d left Uta. She was no longer there. She wasn’t anywhere in sight. He
knew it was impossible for her to have left on her own, she was to tired and
frail, not to mention frightened. It was at this point that he noticed the fresh
tracks of something. Something big. A crimson rage covered his eyes, and he
fluidly took off into the forest after whatever had invaded the campsite.
Sa'ame stumbled through the
thick green tangle of brush and trees, trying not to show his fear to the human
female. He was being hunted, he could feel it somehow. Sometimes when the wind
would shift suddenly, he could get a hint of a scent. He could only perceive it
for a moment, thus the identity, even the species of his hunter remained a
mystery to him. This unsettling thought occurring to him, he pushed himself even
faster.
He had kidnapped wenches for his dinner more than once before, but this one
didn't weep. She didn't beg, she didn't scream, she didn't DO anything she
should be doing. In fact, she hadn't struggled, nor did she make any noise at
all. This didn't seem right. Even though she was slung over his shoulder, and
her face was hanging half way down his powerful grey back, he could tell her
expression was calm and confident. He hadn't smelled an ounce of fear from her
since he had started moving. This only added to his panic.
He scrambled across a shallow stream, but he splashed so much he was soaked from
his claws and to his broad chest. He was anxious to get back into the safety of
the wood. He was moving so fast, he didn't even try to keep the burrs out of his
normally clean course fur. Most minor wolven like him didn't usually bother, but
he was almost compulsively clean for his species. His tribesmen often thought he
was odd, but his large size and ferocity kept them from saying anything. A
branch came back and hit his snout hard. He sneezed and shook his head.
Suddenly he realized that the wind had changed several times and he had gotten
no scent. Now he had no idea where the Hunter was. Sa'ame increased his speed to
the point where he was just blindly running, occasionally smacking hard into a
branch or shrub. He kept going like this for several minutes without even
thinking, before he was abruptly stopped in his tracks.
The Hunter was not tall or particularly large in size, but he looked more
dangerous than a than any creature had ever seen before in his life. He held a
heavy red-metal sword that was coated with deep crimson blood. The scarlet fluid
also was splattered all over his body in a wild fashion. He had glowing yellow
evil eyes with vertical pupils slicing through them, dark as death. He had the
pointed ears and sharp fangs of a half elf, and his blonde hair flew wildly over
his head.
But none of this was all that threatening to the frightened wolven. The truly
terrifying thing about the Hunter was the look on his face. Sa'ame had seen the
expressions of rage on the countences of Angel Vampires who'd gone insane. He'd
seen the eyes of Sorcerers who'd watched his family die. He'd seen the looks of
wrath written in the eyes of proud Pixies who'd been made to look like fools.
Even so, nothing he'd seen before was half as horrible of the hatred that now
met him. He knew in that moment he was going to die.
He flung the female away, and turned to flee. He made two long strides before he
felt that giant sword slice through his chest. He looked down in shock to see
that his heart had been ripped out through his back. The last thing he thought
was how it hurt so much more than he'd imagined.....
Uta sat up swiftly and painfully. Being thrown full force into a tree by an
adult minor wolven is not generally something one can just shrug off. She took a
ragged breathe and took in her surroundings. Jawn stood over the corpse of her
former capturer with emotionless eyes. She sat silently for a moment, letting
the sun, that poked through the forest's canopy, soak into her skin. Then she
began the dreaded task of checking herself for wounds. When she tried to move
her left arm, it burned like fire. Slowly and carefully she got to her feet. "My
left arm is broken," her voice was gentle but firm. When he didn't reply after a
few beats, she started limping back toward the creek. "I am going to go set it,”
and she left him to his demons.