The Brambles were a maze of meter high thorns, fallen logs, hollowed and large enough to walk through, and poisonous plants and insects. It was home to wild boar, and dryads, and it smelled of rotting leaves and mushrooms, a favorite porcine meal. Shiloh wondered not for the first time, why the sanctum of the twelve would be in such a place. She looked down at the offerings she held in her hands, three in total, one for each member of her family. The etchings on the fine, flowering branches could barely be seen in the low light. She looked up at the sky, through the leaves and tall thorns, it was blue tinged with orange and red, the sun was setting, although it was nearly dark as night where she was. She cursed not being born a keeper of the moon, then the night wouldn't be a problem, her bright pink eyes blinked back fearful tears, she was lost. What a stupid place for a shrine.
The young Miqo'te scowled then steeled her spine, pressing forward. Her feet were doing their best at finding every unearthed root, and her clothes delighted in finding the thorns, tearing holes, and cutting skin. Tears streaked her dirty face, and she held her offerings close to her body. Little wonder her father had told her she was to stay in Gridania. She had bristled when he called her young, he had called her foolish to want to rush off to war with him and her mother and elder sister. The wizened healer had explained that they fought so she wouldn't have to. Together with her archer mother and lancer sister, they had marched with the Twin Adders to push back the encroaching Imperial Garlean army.
Up ahead, she could see an opening, the newly risen moon shining light on the clearing. Please, please, please. She ran on uneven ground until she was in the clearing, and face to face with a rather large, and unimpressed wild boar. The creature snorted, and shook its tusked head. Small eyes narrowed on her.
"I'm sorry." She squeaked quietly at the agitated beast.
The apology was met with cloven hooves stamping the ground. Shiloh looked to either side of her, and then back through the hollowed tree trunk she had come through. She wouldn't be able to out run the animal by running back the way she came. The night filled with the snorting of the boar, the stamping changed cadence when it began to charge, Shiloh squeezed her eyes shut, frozen by fear. Wake up, stop, it's a dream. But the sounds of the beast didn't abate. Stop, she covered her head, she was screaming in fright without knowing it, her throat raw, her final breath. She was a foolish and young girl, she should have listened to her father, she should have listened to her grandmother and waited for an escort to the shrine. She was about to die for her stubbornness and pride.
Her screaming was joined by an even louder and high pitched squeal. Her eyes snapped open, half a meter in front of her was the boar, screaming its own death throws, small legs kicking feebly. Its thick side was speared through the heart, and on the other side of that spear stood its wielder. Strong hands held the weapon in place, fangs bared, black tipped ears pressed flatly against head, long tail swishing and snapping like a whip. White eyes lifted from his prey and bore into her, and all Shiloh could do was blink.
"Get up and get behind me!" Ordered the gruff, deep, voice of the lancer wearing the Twin Adder livery.
Shiloh looked from him, then to the still struggling boar, and scrambled to her feet, doing exactly as she was told. Once safe, the Miqo'te lancer, pulled his spear from the boar, the animals blood sprayed from the fatal wound. He spun and thrust in a dance Shiloh had observed her sister execute a thousand times on training dummies, there had never been another life on the receiving end of her spear, Shiloh soon learned it was the dance of death her sister had trained so hard to learn. The lancer grunted and growled as the spear parried and deflected sharp tusks from the mortally wounded boar. The two circled each other wearily, the boar leaving a trail of crimson in its wake, short legs shaking, squealing with each breath. The spear spun furiously until it pierced the animals soft throat with such force it pierced all the way through to the other side, bloodied tip glistening red, ending the high pitched squealing once and for all. The forest was eerily quiet, the heavy breathing of her rescuer seemingly too loud in the sudden aftermath. She realized she was holding her breath and let out a long shuddering sigh. The lancer looked over his shoulder, pulling his spear from the beast with a sickening crunch, wiping the blood from the blade.
"Shiloh Mitka?" He asked, no preamble in his tone, direct and to the point, a hint of annoyance even.
Shiloh nodded, she looked at him, spattered in blood; his eyes, upon closer inspection were icy blue, not white as she had initially thought. He grunted, and grabbed her by her upper arm and started walking. He held her tightly, fingers smearing her ripped tunic with boar blood. He was leading her away, and Shiloh rebelled against the idea, pulling away, after how far she'd come, after all this, she wasn't going to just turn back.
"Stop, I need to go to the Shrine." He seemingly ignored her, her struggling ineffective within his vice grip. "Would you let go! You're hurting me!" He looked sidelong at her, and released his grasp.
"My orders were to find you, and bring you back to Gridania. Not to entertain a petulant child by bringing her to the Sanctum of the Twelve in the middle of the night. The brambles are hardly a place to be wandering at the best of times." He gave her a stern look. "And I will carry you over my shoulder if you don't come of your own free will." A warning.
The promises she made to the twelve when she thought she was about to die were forgotten, she lifted her head chin jutting out, making herself as big as her fourteen year old frame would allow.
"You bring me back, and I'll just run off and go looking for the sanctum again. It would be easier to just bring me there, so I can make my offerings, and then bring me back." Her statement earned her a raised eyebrow.
"Or I could bring you back, and let you die if you're truly foolish enough to run back here again." He cocked his head, with a hand on his hip. He wasn't buying the bluff.
"But we're so close! Please! It's for my family, my parents and my sister left this morning for the front." Petulance gave way to desperation; she wiped away traitorous tears marking her youth and her helplessness.
"You're not the only one with family who left for the front today." His voice was quiet, tinged in anger.
It dawned on Shiloh that he had been left behind as well, upon closer inspection, under the blood and bravado he wasn't much older than she was. Sixteen or seventeen, still a cadet, left behind to guard the Shroud while the seasoned soldiers fought in the war.
"Listen, Shiloh, I'll bring you to the Sanctum tomorrow morning. The boar will attract scavengers, it would be stupid to stay any longer." His voice became kinder as he tried to reason with the younger girl in front of him.
"Promise?"
"Promise." He sighed in annoyance.
"What's your name? A promise has no weight if I can't hold you to your word." She was still suspicious; worried he was just trying to pacify her to bring her home.
"Vesuvan Nijian."