San's eyes flashed open. Somebody had entered the forest. And the forest did not recognize them. She slowly stood from her cross-legged position on the mossy rock where she had been pondering. Her wolf brother Tsume looked up from his rest, massive head rising from between paws that were each longer than her dagger, long ears tracking potential dangers. They shared a glance, not needing to speak. San tugged her spear out of the ground with a graceful spin and they went to investigate.
She slipped away into the underbrush, silent save for the rustling of the leaves in the wind and the songs of returning birds. San was glad for the silence. There had been quite a lot of noise recently. She snorted in amusement, drawing Tsume's glance. That was quite the understatement. The land was alive, the animals were back, and the trees were growing once again. But the scars of the recent conflict were still visible, and San doubted they would fade in her lifetime. She raised her arm, and looked at the faded blotch on the back of her hand. Some scars couldn't fade.
Tsume drew up next to her and halted. San followed his lead, listening intently. She might have been a wolf by inheritance, but her senses were unfortunately all too human. His snout raised to sniff the air, and San heard the sighing of the trees. What still disconcerted them, was what they had felt. They were not sure if it was evil or malevolent, just… unfamiliar. The language of the trees was a subtle one, but anyone could learn it.
Tsume turned his large head towards her, stone-gray eyes solemn. "There is a stranger here. Human."
San nodded and replied quickly. "Armed?"
Tsume's ears twitched, uncertain. "He is dying."
She remembered another warrior, bleeding out from a gaping hole in his side, San holding a blade to his throat. She shoved those thoughts away. He had forgiven her with no effort, but she couldn't get over what had happened between them. Besides, he still hadn't come to visit her.
"Let's go, then." Without further conversation, she took off into the forest, feet making hardly a sound as she whipped through underbrush and vaulted over boulders. Tsume, surprised for hardly a second, joined her, a toothy grin on his long face. He was excited. Kiba, his twin, would be jealous. He was busy patrolling the northern borders for any remnants of the samurai army that had invaded this land, but they all knew that they were long gone.
She would never admit it, but she too was excited, heart pumping with the anticipation of facing a potential enemy. Her fingers tightened and loosened on the wrapped haft of her spear. Finally. Something to do! All her time before the War had been consumed with plans to kill the leader of Irontown, to destroy their iron and drive them away. Now? Well, they were at peace.
And peace, even if it was uneasy, was quite boring.
San slowed, and Tsume followed suit. As they approached a rough trail leading through the forest, San placed her necklaces inside her shirt to muffle their clinking. One was made of fangs, but the other held a blue crystal in the shape of a small dagger. She tugged her cloaking mask over her face, covering her teenage features. Despite her apparent youth, her dark blue eyes were hard and crimson war paint was meticulously arraigned on her cheeks and forehead. The cloak she wore was of white wolf fur. It had belonged to a wolf-sister she had never known, killed by the humans before Moro had found San. Her name had been Dela.
They approached the edge of the road, shadows of the trees and boulders hiding them in the waning light of day. San held up a hand, and Tsume halted and stayed where he was. He would wait until she gave the signal. They could both hear halting footsteps, and the occasional grunt of pain. And the clinking of armor. She placed her spear carefully on the ground, and began to edge around the great stone, steel dagger rising in front of her in reverse grip. She looked down.
A samurai limped down the trail, black armor reflecting the light piercing the canopy. She could not yet see his face, the shadow of the helmet obscured it. One hand clutched his side, blood seeping from between fingers, dripping to fall on the rocks below him. He had taken quite a beating, and he had been wounded for a long time. The lacquered steel armor he wore had once been fine, but was now covered in the rusty stains of old blood, dents and scratches marring its gleaming face.
None of this was new to San. She had seen many wounded in her days. It was what was in his other hand that grabbed her attention with an iron grip. A small animal, black with shocks of white fur swirling through, sat curled comfortably in the crook of the warrior's elbow. It was a wolf cub.
"C'mon, legs, don't give up on me now. Not when we're almost there!" He exclaimed, bright voice laced with an undertone of pain. He stumbled on a jutting rock, and barely caught himself with his free arm, his life flowing out on the stones once again. His wound had recently been reopened. The sharp scent of blood iron caught in San's nose. She was growing tired of that smell.
"Well, Hitori, what do you say? Should we keep going, or take a break?" He looked down at the wolf in his arms, and the cub yipped up at him. San's breath caught in her throat, eyes going wide. That was no common wolf. It was like Moro, it was like Kiba and Tsume… Like her.
She heard Tsume growl softly in surprise behind her. The samurai spun, surprisingly quick. His wakizashi flashed out of his scabbard like lightning on a clear night. The blade was clean.
"Who's there?" She could see his face, now. He was young, but older than she or Ashitaka, early twenties. Her eyes widened behind her mask. His eyes were a bright shade of blue, like a clear morning sky. Beneath the pain that twisted his expression, she could see the laugh lines clearly. He held the cub protectively, away from where his short sword pointed. It whimpered, cuddling closer to him. He had a wound on his forehead as well, covering the left side of his face in dried blood.
"Yeah, I guess you're right, Hitori." He muttered, swaying slowly. "We should get out of here. She did tell us to hurry." He began to limp down the path, keeping his blade ready, wary. San looked back at Tsume. Her brother returned her gaze, expressionless. She slid the mask to the top of her head, and slowly began to shadow the samurai along the trail.
This was something. A samurai would be occasion enough, only the stupid or desperate took the forest trail. A thought made itself know to San. He could be comfortable here… She shook her head. Foolishness, nobody from the-
Ashitaka was. The though made her halt in her tracks. He had been comfortable in this forest. And this man… was carrying a wolf cub in his arms. Down the trail, the man collapsed with a shout that ended with a crash of metal on stone. San approached, knife still held ready. He groaned, head turning. His kabuto had come off his head in the fall, revealing dirty blonde hair. The cub wiggled itself out from under his armored body, completely unharmed. Another sign of its lineage. It ran and tumbled to a stop near the fallen warrior's head and began to lick the blood from his wound. As San rounded the pair silently, she could see the wan smile on his face as he stroked the small animal softly.
"Now back up, Hitori, I'm gonna try this walking thing again."
He raised himself shakily to his hands and knees, and in a rush tried to stand. His hand, slippery from blood began to slide on the smooth rock, and San winced as again the earth welcomed him to its hard embrace. He groaned again, and Hitori yelped and scampered over to him. Hitori whimpered pitifully, pawing at his head, wondering why he wouldn't rise. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and he coughed blood onto the stones.
"No. NO! I cannot fail her now, not when we're so close! We must reach Irontown." He sat up stiffly, groaning. The little wolf looked up at him imploringly. He began to unbuckle the armor from his chest.
"If the gods will that I die here, so be it. But it will not happen until I have given up." He removed his chestplate with a sickening rasping, and dropped it before looking down at his small companion. Hitori, seeing what he was doing, had bit down on the leather strap of his right shoe and began to tug on it.
"Hitori! I still need those!"
San looked back to Tsume. The samurai looked very bad, and San knew that no one could survive such wounds without immediate attention. He had collapsed against the boulder behind him, breathing heavily. He had successfully removed most of his armor, but now she could see the bandages beneath. Those were blade wounds. San felt a twinge in her heart. This man had been wounded by other men, helping something that could not help itself. Just like… Ashitaka.
"He will die before sundown." Tsume stated quietly, no hint of emotion in his voice. "Those without strength do not deserve to survive."
"You can see he has strength, Tsume." She met her brother's eyes. "If he dies here, we will not do anything. But if he continues…" She fought down an involuntary shiver. "I will go to help him."
Tsume gazed at her, saying nothing, but San could sense his disapproval. A curious mix of emotions rose in her. Shame at dishonoring her tribe by sympathizing for a human, but another brand of shame at leaving a person to die. She hadn't used to feel that, she wouldn't have cared less if all humanity had been destroyed, leaving her to be happy with her mother and brothers. But Moro was dead, and because of a boy her humanity was in constant struggle with her wolf. Damn that Ashitaka!
But another feeling kept her from leaving him to his fate. Curiosity.
"I will not force you to help him. But he has traveled far, so there must be a reason why he has come. Possibly even something to do with that small god he carries." She stated softly. Tsume looked past her again, to where the warrior was attempting to stand, Hitori yipping anxiously up at him.
"Allrighty, third time's the charm. Here, hold this." The samurai pulled out a red ribbon from a side pouch, and dropped it where Hitori caught it in her mouth. It was simple, like a hair ribbon. "For luck. But if I don't make it… Take it to whom it belongs." He stood shakily, arms spread for balance. He looked at the surrounding forest, letting his exhaustion show.
"Gods of the forest. I plead your blessing to guide me safely to Irontown. I have a message for the Prince of the East, and I hope that he may be alive and well." He bowed his head slightly, and after a second, began limping down the path once more. What samurai respected the gods of nature? "C'mon, little pup, we don't have all day!" Hitori barked happily and followed him, ribbon in mouth, trotting after him. Tsume's grim eyes rested on her again.
"Go. Help this human. But find out about the little god, if you can. Mother told us of other tribes, whom we have not seen. I for myself would like to know if we are alone, San." She nodded, a small smile emerging on her face, and her arms wrapped around Tsume's broad neck. She may be human, but Tsume and Kiba would always be her older brother.
With one glance at the retreating samurai, she bolted through the forest, neither tree nor rock blocking her inexorable speed. Her excitement curbed the distaste that she felt at the prospect of having to speak to that woman. Only she and Ashitaka could save this man in time, and San didn't want to waste time seeking out Ashitaka. Who was that prince the samurai had mentioned? It was probably nothing important.