Disclaimer: you guys are going to end up sending me to the loony bin if you keep making me type these stupid, redundant disclaimers.
A/N: I don't know why I wrote a note . . . I guess it's just a habit . . .
The Hunt Game
It seemed that Queen Boudica had gotten her wish, when, five months later, her second daughter was born. Like Rahne, the little baby had red hair, but nothing else was really known about her. Boudica named her second daughter Camile, for she was as sweet and beautiful as the little chamomile flowers that grew throughout the compound, and also as promising as the mistletoe the druids cut from the oak trees.
Rahne wasn't that happy about having a new baby sister, because now, Boudica wanted Rahne to spend time with Camile – time she could be spending with the horses. Boudica didn't know, but Prasutagus suspected, the reason the horses were always so well groomed was Rahne. On the rare occasion Rahne got bored of the horses, she would go into the compound where the other children lived, and play hunt.
Hunt was a fun game, and Rahne, being the smallest and fastest, nearly always got to play the prey, whether it be a deer, fox, wild cat, dog, or even wolf. She didn't mind that much. The big kids would put woad berries in their slingshots and try to hit Rahne. If she denied it, they would look on her dress and shawl for the telltale blue stain that woad berries made. Rahne had only gotten hit once, on the heel as she rounded a corner. The shot had fallen low, and just barely gotten her foot. The "hunt" was over and the fox she was playing was "killed" and "taken home," code for Rahne getting tied up and hoisted onto the boys' shoulders and carried back to her roundhouse, which was pretty much the base of operations.
Today, though, the roundhouse wasn't base of ops, and Rahne was stuck watching over Camile while Boudica was out with Prasutagus, hunting for real. She didn't like to leave her days-old daughter alone with Rahne. It wasn't that she didn't trust Rahne, but thought that she was likely to run off to the horses and leave Camile alone. Prasutagus was fine with leaving Rahne at home. Rahne was her father's daughter, truly; Prasutagus, as a young boy, would always run off to the woods or the horses, and taught himself to ride at age seven.
Camile started bawling, and Rahne looked around wildly for the pail of cows' milk Boudica had said to give to Camile.
"Eh! Camile," Rahne blustered, stumbling up from her bed, which she was sitting on. There, in the darkest, coolest corner, was the wooden pail of creamy milk. Rahne grabbed the pail and carried it over to Camile's little bed. Though the pail was quite heavy, little Rahne had no problem with it. She dipped her fingers in the milk and let Camile suck on them. She stopped crying, much to Rahne's relief, and fell asleep.
"Rahne! Hey Rahne!" One of the kids from the compound kids called from outside the roundhouse. Marcus, one of the big kids at six, poked his head around the roundhouse doorframe. He saw Rahne and stepped in.
"Can you play today?" he asked. Rahne shook her head and turned to the fire. Marcus looked over the edge of Camile's bed. "So this is Camile?"
"Yes. She's more of a –" Rahne started to say, but caught something in her sufficiently sharper peripheral vision. Prasutagus, standing in the doorway. He must've gotten back early from the hunt. She stopped talking very quickly and looked up at her father.
"Go on talking, Rahne. I'd like to hear what you have to say." He said, a slight smile on his face, under his beard.
"Nothing, father." Rahne said quickly, turning her eyes back to the fire, which had faded from a crackling flame to smoldering embers. The dim light reflected in her wide, dark eyes, staring blankly into things nobody else could see in the dying fire.
"Right then, if you say so. How was Camile?" Prasutagus asked, entering the roundhouse and noticing Marcus. He frowned at the boy and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Marcus hurried out quickly, eyes averted.
"Good. I know you'd want to be outside, so thank you for watching your sister for a while. Off you go." Rahne smiled up at her father, the empty, brooding look gone from her eyes. What had she been thinking about?
*
Rahne crept through the ferns by one of the roundhouses. She flattened herself to the ground as some of the kids, playing hunt, stampeded by, slingshots cocked and ready to hit Rahne. She smiled to herself. She was so much older than these kids in the way she thought and acted, she was so much stronger and more compact, too, and she knew it, though by the druids' calendars, she was a year or two younger.
She was faster than them, and could run like a dog on four legs, at the speed of a dog. Sometimes, she even growled like a dog, or bared her teeth if she got really upset. Everybody assumed it was an act. For Rahne, though, it was instinct.
"You'll never believe this, but I got one of my father's deerhounds to come with me to track and find Rahne!" Marcus's voice boomed nearby. Rahne's acute hearing and sense of smell picked up on the sounds of a dog snuffling the ground and the familiar, strong dog-smell. The other boys with Marcus congratulated him and whooped, thinking they'd finally get Rahne. From her hiding spot, Rahne peeked around the roundhouse and saw the great, wiry-coated dog standing a bit away from Marcus, nose to the ground.
Marcus tapped it on the shoulder, making its head jerk up and wheel around. The dog eyed the boy with something that was not unlike resent. Marcus was "master," at least for now, so the dog had to obey him. The boy held out a piece of cloth, and Rahne realized, with a jolt, it was her spare shawl. How dare he steal from her! Rahne sank back down into the ferns, lips drawn back like a dog. She didn't even realize she was growling.
She coiled up and sprang from the ferns, charging at the boys, who didn't have their slingshots even loaded, so they couldn't get her. Rahne ran on four legs, barreling toward them. She was supposed to be a deer, but that was forgotten a while ago. Many of the boys scattered, and even the deerhound jumped back in surprise. The shawl was snatched from Marcus's hand, clutched in Rahne's teeth, before he even knew what had happened.
Rahne straightened up and took the wool shawl from her mouth, shaking it angrily at Marcus. For a second, she figuratively towered over Marcus, very much like her mother.
"How dare you steal this from me! You filthy, thieving commoner!" Rahne shrieked. To be called a commoner was a big insult. Marcus shrank down. From their various, quickly found hiding spots, the other boys regained their sense and loaded their slingshots. Rahne heard the twang of the sheep tendons and had dropped down to four legs quickly, woad berries flying over her head, where her chest had been a second ago. It would have been a disgraceful "kill" for Rahne. The hunt never paused, so any shot was a fair shot, no matter what.
Rahne transferred the shawl back to her mouth and took off, trying to not step on her dress. She heard Marcus shout to the dog, "GO!"
The deerhound started cantering after Rahne, its long legs taking it much faster than Rahne's ill-adapted (in the sense of running on four legs, or "ground running") legs. Rahne scrambled up on two legs and kept running, throwing glances over her shoulder to see the deerhound after her, and hear the boys a ways back, shouting and making a huge racket as they chased Rahne and the deerhound through the compound.
Suddenly, Rahne's dress snagged on the thorns that sprang up near the gate. There was a ripping noise and a huge section of Rahne's dress tore away, leaving a huge slit right up to her hip. She couldn't do anything about it at the moment, but kept running, bounding right into the woods. The deerhound chased after her, leaping over any obstacles easily, flying through the woods after Rahne, his "prey."
The deerhound started to gain on Rahne, who was slowing with a combination of hard terrain, flagging stamina, and overheating. Any normal kid – any normal person, for that matter – wouldn't have been able to keep the sprinting pace Rahne had beat through the compound and the woods being chased by a deerhound, in a heavy wool dress and shawl in the summer. The deerhound was cantering along after Rahne, waiting for her to falter before putting on a burst of speed.
Rahne's ripped dress caught on a bramble and she stumbled – what the deerhound was waiting for. The dog took a flying leap and landed square on Rahne's back, front paws on her shoulders, flooring her. Rahne struggled to throw the dog off her back before it bit her neck. That would be fatal. She flipped over beneath the dog's clawed paws and bared her teeth, growling and reaching up to grab the dog's neck. Rahne widened her eyes and growled more loudly, sitting up and toppling the dog off her. She was asserting her dominance.
The dog tried to raise his head, but Rahne fastened her teeth on the dog's neck and growled into the dog's fur, making him cower in submission. She stood and planted her hands on her hips, the picture of dominance.
I am not the prey. I am the huntress.
Chapter 2! I'm sorry I made you wait so long . . . I promise [author's honor!] that chapter 3 will be updated more quickly! You have my author's honor, so ping (PM) me if I don't update within three days. Cheers!