Warning!: English is not my native language!. Also, this story is an AU.
Since I'm no good at this sort of thing, I'll let the story do all the talking. So read it and weep. Or don't. You decide.
Disclaimer: I don't even own a car, yet alone Claymore
Hunter's Moon – scene 1
Slowly, she crept under the sheets that covered him. His serene face looked even more beautiful in the moons dim light. Gently, she brushed aside one of the rebellious strands that covered his forehead.
Startled when he softly whispered her name, she traced with one of her delicate fingers the now barely noticeable scar above his left eye. She faltered for a second before bending down and placing a kiss on his dry lips.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes. "Clare". He whispered as his eyes filled with what seemed like fear and compassion, instead of passion. Her mouth turned into a toothy grin as a sigh left his lips. A tear fell from his now closed eyes.
A flash of light. A sound of ripped flesh. Blood covered the walls as it sprayed out of his body.
Her eyes snapped open as she jerked herself up from her resting spot at the base of a tree. Breathing heavily, she wiped away the heavy drops of sweat on her forehead. She glanced around, as if she was searching for something, something that would prove to her that everything was just going on in her mind. A couple of feet further from her a small fire was crackling mildly. To her right, next to her, lay her only companion – the claymore. Neatly folded, her short cloak had served as her pillow through the night.
She breathed freely as she got up. Slowly, she made her way through the low mist of the morning to a waterfall she knew was nearby.
A dream. It was all a dream. Same nightmare that keeps repeating over and over, she thought as she traced a hand through her shoulder long, blond, wet hair. Leaning on her palms against the rocky wall of the waterfall, she let the cold water caress her naked body as it fell. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back. With her pounding, slightly departed, cherry red lips, soft silky skin and flawless body, she could make even Aphrodite of Cyprus green with envy. She stood for minutes like this, as if she awaited the kiss of an unseen lover.
Lying down, she curled up into a ball beneath the pouring curtain. "Forgive me, Raki…please, forgive me", she barely murmured as she pulled her knees tightly to her chest. Her words were filled with misery.
For minutes she stood like that in the cold embrace of the murmuring river. The sound of water drops falling in the shallow water echoed in her head like the cries of a weeping widow.
She awoke from her trance as a bird took off from one of the nearby bushes.
"Right. Time to go.
The streets were teeming with life. Men with scythes were heading to the grain fields as women swept the dust off the low steps in front of their houses. Here and there a cart passed lazily on the main street, the sound of wooden wheels and hooves rising above the blatancy of roosters announcing the dawn of a new day. Just another ordinary day in one of the western villages.
Nobody seemed to pay any attention to a blond boy as he entered the local pub. He wore a long, dark blue cloak over a simple white, flattered shirt and black pants tucked inside silvery sabatons. His short, golden hair was tied in a small ponytail. Two braids framed his angelic face on each side. He sat on a stool at the counter and waited.
Soon, the innkeeper appeared: a jolly, old man with a chubby, red face. His large side curls underlined even more the boldness of his scalp.
"So, what will it be?"
"Water. And an apple."
"That's all?!"he asked in disbelief. "No eggs, no meat? We have some freshly baked scones, if you'd like some"
"Do you have cherries?" the boy said flatly.
"Yes, but…"
"Then I'll have some cherries. Skip the apple"
"Two berras",replied the old man with a defeated sigh.
Taking his food, the young blond made his way to a table in the back of the room.
"I'm telling you: there's going to be a full moon tonight. It's bound to strike again"
"Oh, come on!"said a pudgy man rolling his eyes. He sat at a table left to the boy's. Although he wore simple clothes, his breakfast was quite substantial: cheese, a partially eaten roasted chicken, an apple pie and a flagon of red wine. A rich man's meal, thought Clare as she peeked at him. "That's just a myth, a fairy-tale…a children's bed-time story."
"Then how do you explain the lack of yoma activity in this region?"asked another one.
"Yeah! There hasn't been a yoma in these parts for 3 months!"
"Who knows?"said the fat one shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe those damned Claymores finally did their job and killed them all." His sarcastic remark was shortly followed by a cracking sound coming from the boy's direction.
"I'll go get you a new one",came the voice of the innkeeper, seeing the young man was holding a now broken clay jug.
"…or maybe they've all migrated or something",the aforementioned man continued in a lower voice.
"Yeah? And the bodies? How do you explain the bodies? I'm telling you: THE STORY IS REAL!"
"Excuse my intrusion, gentlemen, but I seem to be the only one in the dark here" Everybody turned towards the owner of the smooth-silky voice. "What story are you all talking about?"
"And who might you be?"asked a tall, bony man.
"Just a traveler."
"You're not from around here, are you, lad?"said a woodsman, eyeing him suspiciously, intrigued by the boy's appearance.
"No," Clare answered simply. "I come from the north. Bad harvests up north forced me seek my fortunes here in the south."
"I don't like it. There's something suspicious about him"the woodsman whispered in the rich man's ear, earning a surprised look from him. "Just look at him! He looks more like a girl then a man!"
All eyes turned towards Clare yet again as the woodsman continued"In my entire life I've never seen a man with such a fair complexion. Just look at his cheeks: they're as soft as a baby's bottom - not one hair or a wrinkle … not even a mild trace."
The tension grew more and more as every pair of eyes narrowed in expectancy of an answer.
"Maybe if I had your looks, my beloved wouldn't have left me",said the skinny man, heaving a sighing,"You must have broken a lot of hearts in your life…"
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me anyway," she answered, trying her best not to suggest anything more than they could imagine.
The suspicious woodsman grinned. "Try me," he challenged. "I used to be the most powerful, adventurous, dashing young…"
"Oh man, here we go again!", someone said sarcastically. "Keep your adventures to yourself!"
"Obviously he must've lost something to end up a woodsman after all his adventures!" the innkeeper added.
Everyone laughed at the suggestion. Clare, grateful for the innkeeper's comment to break the tension, gave him a smile.
"Now, back to my original question: what story were you all talking about?"asked Clare, taking advantage of the more relaxed atmosphere. Hearing her words, everyone gave each other grim looks as they lowered their heads. Silence took over the place as suddenly as it had left it before.
"Just a local myth, nothing more. It's the ancient story of The Hunter, a creature of darkness that comes for its prey in nights with big full moons. That's why folks around here have named them The Hunter's Moon. But like I said, it's just a MYTH!"the rich man explained calmly. He nearly shouted out just a mythas if he wanted to make sure everybody in town heard him.
"I've seen it!"came the voice of an old man from the back of the room.
"Oh for crying out loud!" said the other one as he nervously slapped his forehead.
"Head like a lion, teeth like a bear…claws that could tear a plank to splinters",the old man continued as he slowly approached Clare's table. "It comes in the mist, always in the darkest … and once it set its eyes on you, there's no escape." With every spoken word, silence took over the room. People started to shift uncomfortably in their seats. "Then the morning comes and we find the bodies", he said nearly whispering, quickly looking left and right, like he had just revealed a horrible secret.
"Bodies of…?"the boy asked apathetically.
"Yoma. So far. We found a couple of yoma hanging upside down in the forest nearby. Beheaded",answered the tall man with a sadistic grin. "I don't know about you, but I'm glad someone's killing these bastards."
Interesting, Clare thought as she slowly tapped the tip of her fingers together.
"But The Hunter isn't real! It's just a story. Folklore!"
The vociferation inside the inn died off as the young man closed the door behind him.
"Oh, can you here him coming? There's a dark man, you better keep running, running!".
Startled by the words she just heard, Clare turned to face a small, wrinkled man. Absorbed by the man's mad chuckle and weird dancing, she barely noticed the innkeeper coming out behind her.
"Don't mind him, lad. He's jut the local idiot." His words broke the invisible spell that seemed to have bound her to the spot. "Hey, you! Get out of here!", the old man yelled as he grabbed his broom.
I wonder if the story has some truth behind it, Clare wondered as she walked along the road that went from the village straight through the nearby forest towards the next small city. "It's an accursed place. No one dares to venture there anymore", the words of the old villager rang in her head as her silver eyes inspected the top of the trees on each side of the road. Their branches looked like menacing hands in the moon's light. Doesn't look like a cursed forest. Just your average trees, bushes…"Squirrel", she thought out loud as the small rodent cut her path.
It's big. "Hunter's moon." Looking at the full moon above, she uttered barely audible, remembering the story. I wonder if Miria knows anything about the killings here or the story. The story…Raki would have loved it. A faint, bittersweet smile appeared on her lips.
Her thoughts were disturbed by a burning feeling in her gut. Yoki!Narrowing her eyes, she barely distinguished a humanoid form running fast towards her, stumbling and looking back from time to time. "Yoma", she murmured as she unsheathed her sword, hidden from the eyes of the world under the long,blue cloak. Throwing down the small bag that contained her official uniform and other items, she began running towards her victim.
The demon avoided her attacks, quickly sidestepping left-right. "Out of my way, bitch!"it barked as it jumped over her.
Astonished, she watched the creatures' back for a couple of seconds as it ran away. Aiming, she threw the sword at it. The yoma hit the ground with a loud thud.
Well, that was new, she thought as she retrieved her blade. And the expression on his face…that wasn't bloodlust…or anger. It was fear. Pure fear! It wasn't trying to attack me…it was actually running for its life! She took a defensive stance as she reached the conclusion, slowly eyeing the surroundings.
"Who dares come between me and my prey?" A deep baritone voice sent icy chills down her back with every word.
Notes:
Many thanks to Shelter and Ryochanx2 for their relentless beta-reading, editing & comments on this story. Hope I won't disappoint you guys!