Crimson

Closed for Aussie_Wolf

"Stay here, Red. I won't be gone long. Overnight at most. But if anything happens..."

The young, petite girl of nineteen years stared out at the speckled window in to the forest grounds. It had been three days since her mentor, the woodsman, said those words before he headed out in to the woods. He had spoke of heading for the nearby village to check out the rumors of a large serpent creature eating away at the barn animals. As much as Red wanted to come along as usual, her mentor insisted she stayed in the cabin, mentioning that Red had not recovered just yet from the attack done to her by the man eating stymphalian birds.

Just several hard pecks to the shoulders and back of the neck. But still, he insisted that she needed to recover.

By the third night, Red couldn't shake off the feeling that something happened to the woodsman. Hunters came and went when it came to exploring the areas or committing to their duty of battling creatures but to be gone for days without any contact raised alarms.

Grabbing her cloak in the cupboard and an oversized scythe, Red headed out of the cabin and to the twisted paths. Serpents...serpents. Land or sea or a dual creature? The path continued on until it split in two. To the left was the main town village while the other led to the small lakeside mostly consisting of farmers.

Tightening the knot on her hood, the breezy weather welcomed her to the clearing.

“I’m going.”

The others turned to look at Stygian. He was sitting at the side table, where the pack can always find him when they need him to run their tasks. Usually he keeps his mouth shut when they plan things like this, not like what he just did.

“You’re going,” Beta stated in as much a dismissive tone as it was sarcastic. “One lone wolf against the huntsman. Asking to get killed.”

One of Beta’s runners joined in. “And what will you do, lead him to a place he can escape. Plan to get another scar are you?”

Beta scoffed as he turned away from Stygian, “Besides, why would we let you do this, what makes you think we would leave you to this opportunity.”

“Am owed this,” Stygian replied. He sat at his table, tearing the last pieces of the cooked rabbit left for him and shoving the greasy flesh in his mouth. Leaning over the plate, his coal black hair fell over his face.

Battle, one of the other of Beta’s cronies piped up. “You know you can’t kill the beast that took the hunter … Scar!” And there it was, the nickname often said behind Stygian’s back, and often to his face as well.

“There is your point exactly why,”Stygian growled as he looked up from his plate. His hair fell back to his shoulders, and the scar that gave him the sour nickname came into view in the light. It ran from his mouth to the bottom of his eye. Years of poor healing left it blood red against the rest of his tanned skin. “The hunter gave me this. If any beast deserves to kill him, it is me.”

The grumble and the noises from the pack raised, now taking Stygian’s demand more seriously if not still negatively.

“Let Him!” Into the hovel came to one that could end it. He was still in wolf form, gray fur billowing over his large form, blood caked to his claws from his hunt. This was Slate, the Alpha of the pack, and as the whole pack knew this is was the only voice that mattered. “Stygian is an embarrassment to this pack, but even he is owed his revenge.” The wolf walked up to Stygian’s table, his yellow eyes looking into the darkness of the sacred werewolf. “Return with him alive so we can watch you finish him. That, or never return to this pack again.”

Turning on the path heading towards right, Red could have sworn that she heard rustling in the bushes. Reaching for her scythe strapped on her back, she pulled it out, anticipating for an attack. The movement in the bushes persisted until it exploded.

Exploded may be an exaggeration, although a bit of light prodding was enough to have a flock of birds fly out in every direction. After their encounter with stymphalian birds not long ago, Red would be quite content on not encountering any birds larger than a pigeon for a while, unless if she were tempted to shoot them for dinner.

The winds grew stronger in the day with the leaves picking up. What path would the huntsman have chosen?

Of course it would be her.

With the wind to his favor, he smelt a hunter along a trail. He was blinded by his desire to revenge to not consider the girl would show up once more. Girl … she was no longer a girl … weapon in hand, she was clearly a hunter now; and likely as dangerous as the woodsman who should have killed him those years ago.

He followed her for some distance, keeping up wind and as out of sight as he could. He moved as the wolf, knowing the wolf would move quicker if seen, even if he would react more aggressively. The wolf could smell better, could see better, could kill better. In time, he wasn’t following her -- the wolf was stalking her.

Yet the wolf makes mistakes.

He wandered from the path. Found himself in front of the hunter, and there was nothing large enough for the wolf to hide. So he turned, lifting himself to be the man, finding a place behind a large tree to keep cover.

That’s when the man’s mind took over and the question started rising. Of course it would be her. The woodsman was her protector, why wouldn’t she venture forth. Yet does she know what she faces? Does she know she will not be able to free the woodsman alone? Then again, how will he do the same alone, even as the wolf.

Standing there behind the tree with her nearing him, he made a rash and likely regrettable decision. He stepped from behind the tree and onto the path, and awaited her approach.

The wind continued to pick up, flinging a small twig at her eye. Irritated, Red furiously rubbed her eye lid to soothe the inconvenience. Her boots kicked at the leaves as the blade of the scythe lazily dragged along. Aside from the wind, the occasional cries from the birds, and footsteps crunching along the dead leaves, the silence was heavy. There wasn't a village or farming town for a little over a mile.

Just as Red approached one of the trees, an unfamiliar man stepped out and blocked her path. Out of instinct, she readied the scythe in her hands and pressed the curve of the blade to his throat. For a good minute, she studied him while keeping a hard gaze at his own stare. Something was strange about this man. The scar line that ran from his eye to his upper lip was rather unusual yet the way it marked him...there was something vaguely familiar that she couldn't quite make out about it.

She kept the blade to his throat while taking a moment to look him over.

"Who are you?"

It took the man inside of him to keep control, because the wolf wanted nothing more than to leap forth and rip the hunter to shreds - even if she had the upper hand. From his gut came a the gutteral ripple of a growl. His eyes flashed over the yellow of the wolf’s. Even his hands gripped ready to extend the claws.

Yet he kept his control. Without moving or letting that blade cut, he lifted his chin and sneared.

“You don’t remember me, little girl? Surely you weren’t that young. That night my pack attacked and your hero left me with this?” He tilted his head to the emphasizing the scar going across his face.

His tone and demeanor was indignant. If she was going to kill him, she would have done so. Besides, indignant keeps the wolf at bay.

“You don’t remember me, little girl?"

Red kept her gaze but the stranger's words had hit a nerve. As he tilted his head enough to expose more of the scar line, fragments of that night came back to her. For a moment, she felt like the child she was, lying on the ground with the face of the monster above her. So close he was that it wouldn't have been long until he bit her head off an easy snack. The only thing she recalled after that was the weight of his body was quickly lifted off of her, the frustrated cries of the huntsman, and an angry growl from the wolf. The memory had been a bit hazy for her to recall in full detail, snippets of a long night.

While she was aware that her mentor caused the wolf to cower from a large cut, Red wasn't aware just how long and deep the mark was.

What got to Red the most was his eyes. The way his gaze kept on hers as they both anticipated for the other to attack, waiting for a chance to defend themselves. The way he stared, not only at her chance to attack but at her specifically. Perhaps staring in to her own soul.

He knew. She knew. They were the same hungry eyes that she came face to face with before her near death. Did he come back to finish off what he couldn't accomplish?

Red pulled the blade slightly from his neck. If he was back for another round, she was not going to be the one lying down while he continued where he left off. Gripping the handle of her scythe more firmly, she spoke.

"Then have another one."

With that, she brought the tip of the blade from his shoulder and, with a quick flick of her hands, cut down to the middle of his chest. She was sure she did not cut as deep as she would like to match the scar on his face. Perhaps, in her sense of bravery, she wanted to toy with and make the wolf suffer a slow nightmare that he had put her through. From what Red could see, she managed to make a nice slit.

Stygian gritted his teeth so hard that his face strained against his own skin. His fists balled, with the nails digging into his palms. When the blade stopped crossing his chest, he lowered his chin, bore his teeth, curled his shoulders, and let his heavy breath steam the air between them.

Yet he made no move at her.

Only when the pain from the new cut oozed new blood through the cut leather shirt did he let himself react. He just started smiling.

“You want to kill me? Kill me!” He voice was nearly growling at her, leaving no doubt that facing the blade left him fearless. “You got your chance now, little girl, kill the wolf from your past. You got more steel there than you need to do the job. So what’s stopping you?”

Then the flash of wolf came across his eyes, yellow and sharp. But the human pushed the wolf back to his home, took control, and continued his challenge to her. “Just ask yourself, what’s stopping me? You’ve been stomping around in these woods for a long time, and here I was standing in your way. If I wanted you dead, what’s stopping me? Even if I couldn’t get you dead, why haven’t I attacked yet.”

He took a long hard breath pushing the last of the immediate pain away. So he decided to lead her to the point. “Maybe I know what happened to your huntsman.”

Over and over the wolf referred to Red as a little girl, which had gotten her slightly miffed. It definitely was not used in terms of endearment. Still, this creature should know that she was no longer the same child he stared down years ago. She pulled back her scythe, readying herself to behead the dreaded wolf that lingered in her nightmares for years.

"Maybe I know what happened to your huntsman."

Was he pushing her buttons again? Red glared at the wolf for a moment, wondrering if he had anything to do with the huntsman's disappearance. He had every reason to get back at the wolf for the permanent scar and perhaps humiliation from his pack.

Still, she could use it to her advantage. Allow the wolf to accompany her, perhaps manipulate him to be useful when it comes to warding off any other creatures lurking around and maybe the truth of the huntsman will be uncovered.

No, no, no, no, no! Red fumed at such a thought. She was trained and capable of working on her own. And given that she and the huntsman were the only two hunters left, they had no choice. Of all the living things she considered taking along, she actually considered letting the wolf lead on, even if the risk was great that he would finish what he started.

In her anger, she raised her scythe and brought it down, intending to slice his head open.

Or so she hoped. Instead, she took her frustration on the tree he leaned on. The blade landed a mere inch from his head, only grazing his ear.

"If you know where he is," she pulled her scythe out of the tree and rested it on her side. "Then I guess have no choice but to have you show me where."

She could have killed him, yet again he didn’t flinch or dare to stop him. She clearly tried to kill him, maybe calculating that the blade would only leave him wounded further. The wolf would have ripped at her, not stopping until she was torn as much as he was. Stygian the human didn’t. He knew the score, knew the ends to this. Too much had to go right, the road too difficult, and he would never be able to beat the beast on his own. There was little chance he would end up being anything other than vulture food before this adventure ends. Without her, he would fail his mission, cast out of the pack. Their younger kind would hunt him down for fun, play with him, let him linger as his hope faded to survive. He’d be dead in a week.

Every option in front of him would most likely end in death. The girl’s blade was the fastest. So if it comes, it comes.

“I know where he is.” His words were breathed more than spoken, and each word was deliberate. “I will not tell you where he is, but I will take you too him. You may think you are strong, little girl,”he mocked while running his hand over the open wounded in his chest covering his palm with blood, “but you will not be able to save Your Huntsman by yourself. I have my reasons for helping you on this, but that is my own secret.”

He leaned forward, the yellow of the wolf flashing over his eyes once more. “Just know this - where we are going, you will find no allies. You are all alone. Kill me, and Your Huntsman dies.”

He reached for the cut ear, stroking the gash until his fingers were covered in the same blood he touched from his chest. He turned his palm towards her, his fingers spread, his blood covering all his skin to show her, and asked, “Are you still called “Red’.”

Red saw the flash of beastly eyes for a second, tightening the grip on her weapon. The wolves she knew that wander about on the grounds were known to let their bestial attitudes get the best of them, switching to their natural form from their human guise like a change of clothes. As the wolf before her went on about how his demise by her hand will mean the huntsman dies along with it, she raised her blade once more, the tip lightly touching his chin.

"Is that a threat?"

The stench of blood wafted as he ran his fingers through the cuts to his ear and chest. She looked on with suspicion as he held his hand close to her face, the blood dripping down to the palm before creating droplets to the dead leaves below.

"Are you still called Red?"

Slowly, she lowered the blade back to her side though anticipating that he may emerge for another attack.

"The hunters called me such because of my cloak." There was no point in sharing so much as her name with her enemy.

“Ahh then, a false name,” he sneared back at her response. “Well then, feel free to call be by the false name your hunter granted on me as well.” With that he drew a line down his cheek that followed the same line left in his flesh. “Scar.”

Stepping away the tree that stopped the blade, he stepped out onto the path, turning his back on Red confidently. “And call the wolf whatever ya like, he won’t like you regardless.”

With that he began walking, generally in the same direction Red was just before their first encounter. “Well, comeon then,” he called over his shoulder. “We got a long way to go, and the scavengers will start to smell all this blood.”

There wasn't a worst time than now for Red to stifle a laughter when the wolf pointed to his scar and told what she considered a pitiful story of what the hunter nicknamed him. Scar. Sounds quite fitting for a creature who bore such a mark and who caused a mental one towards his adversaries. Still, Red managed to compose herself. There was no need to provoke the wolf so early to attack her for mocking him.

Not yet, anyway.

As she followed him, she heard the wolf saying something about how scavengers will come for them once they caught a whiff of the blood. Red walked beside him, although keeping a distance between them apart. On occasion, she glanced at him, but whenever he decided to return the favor, she either looked away or gave a small sneer.

"If they smell blood," she said. "The creatures will go after your head."

He could sense the occasional stare, the eyes falling on him by his traveling companion. Suspected nothing less. If the one thing the girl proved to him with their recent encounter was that she didn’t trust him. For that matter, maybe this is the first time she has seen a wolf since back when they first met. Still, the girl was starting to annoy him.

"If they smell blood, The creatures will go after your head."

He trudged on and with a purpose. “What, do you humans all believe we are completely stupid? Of course they would come after my head. They have my eyeballs pecked out and my inners wrapped around their necks like scarfs before they even have a look at you.”

They hit a cross road, and he turned. He was taking them towards the granite mountains, known to be filled with creatures liared in caves.

“But that ain’t a good thing, get that through your cute little head.” Looking directly at her with less fury and more desolation. “I need you, you need me. We are in this together.”

"Not at all. Normally I would welcome it and maybe even look forward to watching the maggots fester in your eye sockets long after your dead."

The hood from Red's cloak blew back, revealing a head full of chestnut brown hair reaching down to her shoulders. She brushed the hair away from her face before putting the cloak back over her head. She followed the wolf's footsteps, tagging along a few inches behind.

"The hunters are mostly self-reliant." Red tied a double not on the ends of her hood before she added. "We just don't have a choice with each other."

Red looked up at the face of the wolf when he faced her. The hungry and angered look that she was used to in his features had turned in to a blank slate. Should she be anticipating an attack from him? She looked up at the entrance to the cave, then to the wolf, then at the blade at her side before mumbling something along the lines of "...if I had a choice"

"...if I had a choice"

The last words hung in the air like the growing clouds over the twilight sky. He rubbed at the drying blood crossing his torso and face. The were in his system sped the healing to close his wounds, but the scars will remain, stiffening into scabs. It teased at his senses like the ‘choice’ he had made to be the way he is.

Yet she still had said it first, questioned it first.

“You didn’t have a choice but to sling that blade? You didn’t carry it when I first met you,” he spat at first then rethought the comment. “That is, what choice do you mean?”

"I am a hunter. My only duty is to eradicate the creatures that wish to wreak havoc. You were just damned lucky that night that they picked the little girl who didn't have formal training at the time to purchase goods from town. You're a wolf and like the others, you see us as blocks getting in your way to achieve your goals. Why go against the norm?"

Red was surprised that the wolf picked up on her mutterings. But then she shouldn't have been. Someone like him was bound to have better hearing than any mere mortal. She glanced at the wolf once, then slowly strolled along inside the cave.

"We're not given a choice in this life," she spoke with her voice slightly faltering. "We're born in to what we are and that's that."

Indeed, the life of a hunter is vastly different from a mere human. You're told stories of creatures and hunters of long past, trained in weapons, and taught everything there is to know about living a life as a savior to mankind, as they call it. The very few who are brave enough to stop these monsters. During their down times, Red watched as humans moved about freely, speaking of nonsense and socializing in an odd manner.

Her biting statements, her strength, her need to be the good hunter - it tried to make Stygian snap back in return. It made the wolf wanted a chance at her. Yet the human trudged on. Then the voice faltered next to him. Then it touched something else. Not like when her words would trigger the wolf … no the other side of it all.

“Heh,” he gave a little laugh in realization, “we are not so different, you-and-I, hunter. You have your duties, I have mine. I follow my Alpha or I will be killed. If you wrong that pack, you fight for scraps, hope for a warm bed in the cold, wait your days until they find no more use to them. Yet it is our life. We’re not given a choice in this life either”

He took a long deep breath. “It is a curse, we all agree it is. The wolf doesn’t care what we call it. But, I am the wolf and that’s that.”

Too much. Too much sharing. Sharing with his enemy. He coughed, gritted his teeth and pointed up the slope. “We need to camp. Cave up there, that’s what we want, but stand no chance if we go in at night.”

Eyebrows raised up on the light skin of young Red. Did she and the wolf have some sort of understanding with one another? She looked up at the slope that he pointed out: a bit steep but something she'll be able to manage. The caverns wouldn't be too far away from where they will set up camp. Her pace quickened as she approached the hill.

"You know nothing about curses." She said as she marched upwards.

By the time she got to the top, her knees burned from the exertion. It didn't take long to find a spot with its own high rock walls to conceal their presence from the northern lands. Looking about to be certain that there weren't any nearby creatures, she leaned up against the wall and let out a slow breath. She untied the cloak, letting shoulder length chestnut hair fall on to her shoulders.

"I've only got a few matches."

“You only need one,” he grumbled as he opened up his pack. Pack wasn’t a fair assessment. It was an elk fur strapped together to hold in a few essentials and clothing. “Here,” and from the mess he threw her a dried bird nest, complete with light twigs and threads perfect for kindling. “I have ham too, but need some for me. I go hungry and the wolf will want to go hunting. And he won’t tell the difference between you or the ham.”

He pulled his shirt off over his head, leaving his bare chest and back naked. He squeezed his water pouch to get some liquid onto the torn remnants of his shirt, and used it to wipe away the remnants of the dried blood from their introduction earlier. His strong bare chest was marked with the red lines from where Red had slashed him earlier, but it shared a number of other wounds from older deeper cuts on his torso. His back was spared some, but instead of cuts, it was hash marked with proof of lashing.

Finally, he stopped long enough to look up at her. With her clock off, her hair presented itself over hard worked shoulders. There was no denying it, the girl had grown into an attractive woman. A killer, but nothing short of beauty. Maybe in a differnt time, or if he was more of a man ….

When he was sure he would have caught her staring at him, he coughed and looked back at the pack. “I have furs here, it will get colder.”

Out of instinct, Red caught the small nest with ease. Her fingers gently gripped at the light twigs, being careful not to crumble them. Well, this would be enough to start a small fire. After placing the nest well in the center of the area, she reached in her pocket and fished out a few matchsticks bundled together. Using a rock, she struck the first match when the head and length broke in half.

Damn. Unamused, she reattempted with the second match. This time, she was able to produce a small flame. Before the fire had a chance to die out, she laid the flame on to the nest. Slowly but surely, the fire began to grow, eating away at the twigs.

From the corner of her eye, she managed to get a glimpse of the wolf undressing himself. The light from the fire exposed his bare back and torso and what she could have sworn were...lashes? They didn't come from her clan of hunters as neither of them were known to own whips as their choice of weapons. Had he not been a sworn enemy, maybe she would have felt some sympathy. What did he go through to endure that sort of savagery?

"Oil and plumeria."

The skills of both of them created a nice camp. His piles of furs laid down to the ground. Her fire blooming with warmth and light. Free of their burdens, both physical and acceptance of their enemy, they made for a spot that at least a mutual place to rest could happen without the threat of killing each other.

When she asked about the Oil & plumeria, he was off guard. Not in the way a warrior is caught by surprise, or how many times the rest of the pack took advantage of his weaknesses. No, this was something different. It tapped into a something that was deep inside of him, deeper than the wolf could reach, where the lingering parts of true humanity lie. But it was just because it was so deep, he was left confused, unsure, and had to fight the instinct to fight back. It was something that touched deep enough that he wanted to know that feeling again.

He stood only in the worn woolen pants and boots. “Oil … and plumeria,” he repeated with reluctance as he continued, “I don’t. I hadn’t before. I wouldn’t know … what to do with it.”

Your chest," she said, referencing to the scars adorning his torso. "Some sandalwood helps also. Not that it would ever truly erase it."

Red stretched out her tired legs, taking in the warmth of the fire not far away. Tossing a few twigs in, she too began her own unpacking. Unlacing her boots and setting her scythe close enough to her, she watched him. While her fingers lightly twitched at the chance to snatch up her weapon, she watched the wolf more out of curiosity than suspicion.

If her comrades were still alive, they would have been screaming at Red to quickly finish off the creature standing not far away. Still, something about him got her wondering.

"It's not as bad."

Such a strange practice, oils on skin. Oils on scars. No wonder why such a concept was foreign to him. To temper the pain. To put it behind you. To let things forget. He shook his head, “No not as bad.” He repeated.

The wolf was long gone. Something of this place, and her presence once again left the human alone in him. The man could rest, relax.

“We heal quick. The wounds at least. Cut me, I bleed, I quit bleeding. But the pain remains. The scar remains.” With a deep breath the moment let him talk further. “When I was younger, I wished to be cut, just to show the scars later. But you can still feel the pain of each, and the scar of each is memory of the cause.”

With a laugh he shook his head. “Here I am the fool. Telling a hunter how a wolf bleeds. Either I tell you what you already know, or I hand our enemy information that can only make you the stronger.”

"Yes, it would make us stronger," Red tossed a stray twig in the ever growing fire. She paused at her words. Funny how something trivial as a campground can turn in to a place of being exposed. Perhaps it was the way the flames cackled, or the way she or the wolf stole a glance at one another without having killed one another, despite the temptation. From the corner of her eye, she caught him approaching closer towards her before he sat across from her.

Something about the wolf's eyes made her uneasy. The huntress inside of her wanted to perform the task she had known most of her life: Finish the wolf. And yet the way they followed her gaze; something about them caused a strange sensation to stir inside Red. A wanting? What is this feeling?

"Whatever you're telling me now, it would be useful when the time comes. But if the Hunter and I are the last two left and die because of it..."