This winter was going to be a devastating one. Maka could feel it in her bones and see it in the nature around her. The bears had gone into and early hibernation, and the squirrels were stocking up twice as much on the nuts throughout the forest then they usually did. The tribal leader sensed it as well, and he sent everyone out to get ready for the winter. Maka trekked through the narrow passageways of the mountain, dexterously working her way around the dangerous slopes and rockslides. Even with almost all of her furs and her warmest moccasins on, the chilling air was beginning to get to her, and if she didn't hurry, it would soon be dark. She needed to find some food to hunt, and quickly.
She pushed further to the caves, hoping to find a moose or perhaps some northern elk. Lucky her, not 20 yards away, stood a large brood of a moose. She crouched low and moved slowly to the brush, steadying her bow and aiming for its massive chest. Before she could let go of the bowstring, the beast jerked its head to the right and froze. There was something over there. The creature took off, leaving Maka alone with no food, at almost sunset. "Now what am I to do? If I return to the tribe without more food for the winter… I don't think-no. I know we won't survive." She looked to sky, seeking to the spirits for help. What should she do? It was starting to get dark and she needed to find something, but her prize had been scared off. By whatever is over… there. She slowly trudged through the ever-darkening forest, towards the object of her lost-prize's attention… and fear. The closer she came, the clearer the space became. She could make out an opening of some sort; a cave? She kept her bow in hand, swallowing her fears and entering the cave.
She let her eyes adjust to the sheer layer of darkness looming over the cave. Her eyes scanned for any movement, ready to attack if needed. There. She whirled to her left, her bow readied. What she thought to be a bear or maybe some terrible beast of the mountains, was a man. A tall, red eyed, snowy haired man. "Ay, Smaik, what are you doing in my cave?" His crimson eyes peered through her, worsening the chill the mountain air gave her. "Well? Are you going to answer or not, ye Smaik? Can ye not speak at'll?"
"Smaik?" Her curiosity of the man had distracted her. She shouldn't be wasting so much time here. The creatures of the mountains come out in the dark, and it was already coming too close to nightfall for comfort.
"And she speaks alas!" He threw his hands in the air in an exaggerated motion, vexing Maka further. "A puny girl like ye shouldn't be up here so late. The trogs'll get ye."
"Trogs?" What is he speaking of? Is that what they called the monsters of the mountains? Trogs?
"Do ye know nothin'?" His face was in hers, his scowl etched onto his face like a carving.
"Excuse me?! You have no right to say such things! Why, you're a man who can barely speak worth a damn himself!" Her voice carried through the cave, blaring back at them both. "Prigs like you should be roped and fed to the dogs like the terrible things you are!" His eyes narrowed, the scowl on his features only deepening. She seemed to have hit a nerve. Good.
"Prig, huh? That the best ye can do, Smaik? You're lucky I haven't gutted ye yet!" Maka was furious.
What the hell is a Smaik, anyway?! It sounds ridiculous! "I'd like to see you try, old man!"
The caveman raised a brow, scowl replaced by shock. "Old… man?"
Maka began to grow impatient. "You have white hair, don't you?" She gave him another look over. Even in the dark she could see his odd features, but she could also see that despite his shimmering hair, he looked quite young around the body and face. He couldn't have been any older than sometime in his second marking.
His sigh took her attention back away from his queer appearance. "I suppose I don't look twenty- five, but-"
She hadn't meant to interrupt him; she was just intrigued by the strange tongue he was speaking in. "Twennifive? What… is that?"
Her question seemed to peek his interest as well, "Do ye not use the numerical system to represent yer age?" She stopped to think. She had never heard anyone in her tribe speak of this 'numerical system' before. They used the spirits to determine the age groups; every 120 moons after a child is born, the spirits would mark the tribal member to commend them on reaching a new marking in life.
"The spirits mark us every 120 moons after our birth," she pulled up her fur sleeve, revealing her 2 markings on her forearm. "I am 48 moons into my second marking." The man stood still for a moment, staring unconsciously at her markings. His red, blood-like eyes mesmerized her. If his eyes are this alluring, he must be a demon of some kind! Maka quickly yanked her sleeved back down and thwacked him on the head. "Stop staring, Prig! It's rude!"
The man fell back, rubbing his now aching head. "I'm rude?! Yer the one who just hit me!" He stood back up, marching closer until his seething rage was being spat in her face. Literally. "N' stop callin' me Prig, Smaik. That's not my name."
"Oh, really?" She gave him a smug smile and tapped his nose. "And do you really suppose my name is Smaik?" He flinched back and the grimace returned. "Maka," she held her hand out to him, "my name is Maka."
He cautiously took her hand, shaking it slowly as he eyed her skeptically. "Soul." She turned her head to the side, eying him conspicuously. "That's… my name. Soul." He pulled his hand back and listened to her test it out. He wouldn't admit to himself, but he liked the way his name rolled off her tongue. Maka's voice had a way about it… he liked everything when she said it. It had its own melody, like a wolf in the distance. Yeah… like a wolf.
"Well, Soul. Seeing as you chased off my moose and distracted me 'til far past dark, how about you let me stay in your cave for the night?" Soul was about to protest, but she beat him to it. "Or I could just kill you seeing as you have put my entire tribe in danger." Her smile was sickeningly innocent; enough so that he didn't dare argue with her.
Soul slouched further than he had before, only to turn around and start heading further in the cave. "Are ye comin', Smaik?"
Maka could only groan. This guy is a serious pain. "I told you, Prig," her voice was oozing with disdain, "my name is Maka."
"Eh. I like Smaik. Besides," He turned to face her, crimson eyes still glistening in the dark, "this is my cave. And yer forcing me to let ye stay." He continued ahead once more, beckoning her deeper into the cave. "Although, ye have yer warning. Even I know not of yer fate in the mornin'."
Maka halted, stuck in place as he lit up the torches in the farthest part of the cave, revealing a cluttered mess of foreign objects, and many rooms in this complex cave. What did he mean by that? Is he not alone?
"Ay, Smaik!" Maka jerked her head over to Soul, who was currently making her a place to sleep on the ground with his spare furs. "Ye shouldn't ignore others when they speak to ye; they'll think ye rude."
Who does he think he is; scolding me like a child?! "And you should not treat others with disrespect; 'they'll think ye rude.'" She lowered her tone to match his, watching his brows furrow in anger.
"Are ye mocking me?" This woman is unbelievable! Soul couldn't understand her. From what he has seen, she is just some tribal girl with a decent education and a very short temper. She is like nothing I have ever seen before. "Never mind it. Just get to sleep; you'll have an early mornin'." Earlier than you'd like.
If he didn't seem like he was actually helping her, Maka would've considered Soul to be high-strung mountain scum. After all, his manners were atrocious and his hospitality was lacking greatly, but there was something more to him than that. But what? What could this man be hiding beneath the surface?
She curled up beneath the nest of furs and watched as Soul put out the torches, walking further into the darkness of the cave.