Of Sunsets And Night Skies

Chapter Thirty-Five: My Right By Force Part Three

Bumblebee

The last thing you see before you exit your tent is your healer cuddling into your pile of furs, and more specifically, one you had gotten her some months ago as a gift. It was the pelt of a wolf, a dark grey wolf with scatterings of black in his fur. His fur was extremely soft, and did an excellent job of keeping your healer warm during the night.

As you approach your men to plan out your day, your mind is cast back to the day you had gotten it for her. She was much more wary of you back then, and you understand why. Despite freeing her, your words and actions had been rough, and she had shied away from you, fearing you. She had feared that she had simply had ownership transferred, from one cruel owner to another.

You didn't want to be impatient and harsh with her, but out here, survival was difficult, and she was going to have to learn quick or die.

There was no way you were going to let her die. So she had to learn, through whatever means necessary.

"Vanir," You greet, adjusting your sword dangling at your side. He nods to you from where he sits in front of a dying fire, gazing into the burning embers.

"I need you to accompany me on a task." You say. He raises his head to fix you with a piercing stare, his small, beady black eyes studying you intently. Vanir is shorter than you by quite a bit, but built wide. His long, dirty blonde hair is secured to his head in a messy bun, and a mostly blonde beard adorns his face, although if you looked closely, you could see flecks of red throughout.

"What are we doing, Yaegar?" He asks, addressing you with your battle-name. You ignore it, despite preferring to be called by your given name, Yang.

"The snow will be flying soon, and we will be faced with a brutal Northern wind. We have a good place to set up camp for the winter, but our stores of meat are running low, and my healer isn't built for the winter like we are. I want to acquire a pelt for her."

He nods as he studies your expressionless face.

"Wolf." It is not a question he asks, rather, a statement.

You nod wordlessly.

He sighs, then heaves himself to his feet.

"I'll grab my axe and my bow." He replies, turning away from you and stepping around the dying fire.

You thank him, before turning away and looking out into the forest's edge some distance away. The sun would be rising soon, so it would be best to get moving as soon as possible.

As the wind stirs up and blows through your blonde locks, Vanir steps wordlessly to your side, now armed to the teeth with weaponry.

The barren rocky ground under your feet makes no noise as you two proceed to the forest's edge with murder on your mind. You aren't sure what the likelihood is of finding a wolf to slaughter, but you figure it's worth the chance.

Wolf tastes mighty good over a fire, you think.

Stepping into the forest, the pre-dawn darkness swallows the two of you up.

It's some time before you find tracks in the dirt, your eyes straining against the dim morning light filtering to the ground through the thick canopy of trees overhead as you crouch down close to the dirt. They appear to be fresh, with large pads pressed deeply into the soft earth and deep nail marks embroidering the edge.

You glance at Vanir, and he returns the look, nodding.

"Fresh, heading North." His voice barely reaches your ears, so quiet was his whisper. You look back down at them and follow them for as far as you can see before you lose sight of them.

Nodding, you straighten.

"Let's go." You breathe silently. Behind you, Vanir shoulders his bow, careful to place his foot exactly where you place yours for fear of making noise.

You track the wolf for what you assume must be an hour, if not longer, before you come to a gentle rise in the terrain. Unsure of what is on the other side, you lay low as you creep up the small hill.

Pressing yourself flat against the dirt, you crawl forward until you can see over the edge.

The hill gives way to a small valley. Down at the bottom of the hill seems to be a natural clearing, and there's a small creek that winds it's way through the terrain, providing clean running water to whoever should stumble upon it, and sufficient ambient background noise to cover up a stealthy hunter's sounds.

There! You point with your middle finger down toward the creek's edge. Vanir looks toward where you are pointing and spots your prey. A large male wolf, seemingly alone. His fur is beautiful, a large full coat of dark grey fur, interspersed with patches of black near his shoulder blades, chest, and haunches. He is at the creek's edge, lapping up the water as his sharp ears swivel back and forth in search of predators.

Slowly, carefully, you adjust a sturdy metal bracer on your right arm. You make sure it covers your wrist and is securely fastened as you plan your next move.

Glancing at Vanir, you tilt your head toward the wolf, then your eyes fall to the bow slung across his back.

He understands, and slowly pushes himself up into a kneeling position. Silently unslinging the bow from his back, he takes one of the three arrows he keeps strapped to his left leg, nocking it on the string and drawing it back as he takes careful aim.

The bow creaks ever so quietly in the still morning air, but it is overpowered by the sound of wind chasing through the trees, rustling branches as the creek babbles on quietly below.

Suddenly the wolf raises his head from the stream, licking his chops as he looks around alertly for any sign of movement.

You both freeze, and he seems to not notice you as he lowers his head to the stream once more, lapping up the cold water.

With a twang, the arrow is released, streaking toward the animal almost too fast to see. It's an unlucky shot, however, as the arrow only partially grazes the wolf's flank.

You curse as you jump into a standing position, hand on your sword. You fully expect the wolf to run now, and you resign yourself to a fruitless chase, but as the wolf whirls around and spots you, you can't help but wonder if you're on it's territory as it lets loose a ferocious growl.

You advance forward with your right arm held out at chest height in front of you, elbow bent so that your arm is across your chest. Every instinct inside of you is screaming at you to grab your sword, but you fight that instinct as hard as you can as the wolf leans back on his haunches, clearly getting ready to fight.

It happens so fast. No matter how many times you hunt wolf, you're always stunned at how fast they are. One second he's leaning back on his haunches, the next he's gone, a shower of dirt kicked up as his nails find purchase in the soft earth.

You brace yourself for the impact as the wolf crashes into you. Your guess is that the wolf weighs nearly one hundred pounds, and you buckle under the force of the impact, and fall to one knee. Everything has gone to plan however, as the wolf's sharp jaws latch around your proffered forearm, teeth grinding against the metal bracer as it protects your flesh.

You're jerked side to side violently as the wolf tries to rip flesh from bone, but his teeth cannot find purchase upon your bracer. Quickly, before the animal can react or try to bite elsewhere, you reach down into your boot and withdraw a small, razor sharp blade.

With a furious growl, you plunge the blade into the wolf's neck as hard as you can. Due to the thrashing and tugging, however, your strike is not immediately lethal. Blood coats your hand and the blade, and as the wolf thrashes in pain, you lose your grip on it. You're almost pulled forward onto you knees as the wolf jerks you forward, and your heart hammers in your chest as you make eye contact with the wolf, his dark brown eyes boring into your own.

You need to react quickly, having instructed Vanir not to interfere unless absolutely necessary. You didn't want any axe wounds or sword slashes marring the beautiful pelt, and had restricted all weapons to small knives and arrows.

Another violent jerk almost destabilizes you, and you resist the urge to stand, where you know you'll be more easily knocked off balance. You admire the tenacity of the wolf to not just turn tail and run, and part of you is glad for that as you don't want to spend time tracking a wounded wolf through the forest.

The wolf growls loudly, twisting his head side to side as his teeth slip off the edge of your bracer, sinking into your upper forearm near your elbow.

You grunt loudly in pain, then anger flares up inside you as you pull the animal closer to you with all your strength. His teeth strain against your flesh, and the wolf seems to know that he's made progress as he redoubles his efforts.

You can feel warm blood soaking into your arm, and you grit your teeth as you pull the wolf ever closer.

When the animal is close enough to your body that you can feel the heat radiating from it's muzzle, you reach over the top of it's head with your left arm, fingers finding the bottom of it's jaw. With a powerful twist you jerk the animal's head sharply to the left, and a high pitched whine cuts through the air before you're rewarded with the dull, hollow sound of bones breaking. Instantly the wolf falls silent and it's body goes limp as it falls to the ground, and your chest heaves with every breath as you pry it's teeth from your arm.

You fall to the ground, sitting beside the corpse of the wolf, and you take a moment to catch your breath. Your mood is soured by the fact that your gift to your healer will be accompanied by more work for her to do, and you briefly consider hiding the wound from her.

It's a foolish idea though, you think as you cast your gaze down to the beautifully colored wolf.

Your healer would be quite upset if she discovered you hiding wounds from her, and you didn't want to risk infection in your shield arm.

Your breathing slows, and you find your strength returning. Vanir looks down at you as you raise your gaze up to him, and he wordlessly offers you his hand.

You take it, and he hauls you to your feet with ease.

"Would you like me to carry the wolf, Yang?" He asks, using your given name now that the hunt is complete.

You cast your gaze down to the corpse, and shake your head.

"No. This is my gift, my idea, I'll bear the burdens."

He nods, then leans down to help you pick up the wolf. With a bit of difficulty you get the animal slung across your shoulders, and when you're comfortable, you begin the long trek back to your camp.

It is nearly midday when you and Vanir make it back to camp, and you heave a sigh of relief as you fall to your knees before rolling the wolf off your shoulders and gently onto the ground.

The other three men, well versed in skinning and preparing animals, don't even need to be told what to do as they pull out long sharp blades, but you cast them a warning anyway.

"Do not damage the hide whatsoever." The tone in your voice tells them you're deadly serious.

"It's a gift for my healer." You warn.

Nods of understanding follow your words, and you leave them to the grisly task of carefully slicing open the beast as you rise to your feet and make your way to your healer.

You push your way into the tent, and your healer immediately turns her gaze to you to inspect you for damage. Her eyes fall to your arm, and she rises from your bed and makes her way to you. Her head is bowed in fear, and she refrains from eye contact as she slinks to your side. Her ears are pressed flat to her head, and her hands tremble ever so slightly as she reaches out to strip you of your slightly crushed metal bracer.

"Not here, in the middle of the doorway." Your voice lacks anger, but she can sense your exasperation.

She tries to say something, but her voice catches in her throat and she falls silent. You move toward your bed and gently lower yourself upon it. Immediately you relax as you stretch out your legs, and the raven-haired girl falls down to the bed beside you, dark hair cascading over her shoulder and hiding her face as her delicate fingers undo the clasps on your bracer.

In seconds she has it free, and she pries it from your forearm before setting it aside. Your eyes fall to the slightly deformed piece of armor, and you think that your most skilled metal-smith, Hegg, will have that straightened out in no time. You make a mental note to ask him to lengthen it slightly to reduce the chances of an injury like this reoccurring, and to add another notch to the steadily lengthening count of wolves you've slain.

With your bracer off, the healer reaches toward the foot of the bed where she keeps her pack. Pulling it close, she reaches inside and grabs a clean cloth. As she wipes the blood and dirt from your arm, you get your first glimpse at the puncture wounds in your skin. There are three on top of your forearm, and four on the bottom, although you got lucky this time. They weren't very deep.

The healer's shaky hands slowly get steadier as she loses herself in her work, and you stare at her as she disinfects your arm with a strange smelling blue liquid.

You analyse her as she works, the way her hair falls to her waist, the way her cat ears slowly perk up as she seems to forget how nervous she is around you.

She's absolutely beautiful, you can't help but think.

You didn't realize what you were doing until your fingertips brush against her cheek, and she jerks, a cute gasp escaping her lips as she shies away from you. Her eyes squeeze closed and she flinches away, a murmured "Sorry!" reaching your ears as she assumes she's hurt you.

Your hand falls to your lap as your heart falls to your stomach, and you turn your gaze away to look anywhere but at her.

"I... sorry... " Your voice is soft, and you stare at your lap.

She looks at you, then down at your arm. Slowly, she reaches out and resumes her work on your arm. Her touch is gentle as she wraps a clean white bandage around you, and she holds the bandage against your skin with one hand while the other reaches into her bag. Grabbing a strip of adhesive, she wraps it around your bandage to hold it closed. Bending down, she brings the end of the adhesive to her teeth to tear the end as her ears brush against your bicep.

You ignore the feel of her breath on your skin, the scent of her hair as best you can, until she pulls away, satisfied with her work.

"Thanks." You mutter.

She looks up at you, then nods meekly as she puts her supplies back in her bag. You briefly consider reaching out to touch her once more, but you fear that will do more harm than good.

Sighing discontentedly, you push yourself off your bed. Casting one more glance down at her, you shake your head before exiting your tent.

It's the next day, and your arm no longer hurts. Your healer insists that it stay bandaged for a few more days, and you humor her by keeping it on.

You're sitting on your bed, and in a rare moment of peace, your healer sits next to you. Your arm is in her lap, and she's gently massaging your forearm, her fingers caressing you through the bandaging. The sun warms the tent and makes you both drowsy, and as her fingers slow upon your arm, she gently slides over until her head bumps against your shoulder.

The touch bumps you from your thoughts, and you become aware of the weight of her head on your shoulder, her hands clutching your forearm. For the first time in your life that you can remember, embarrassment floods your body and you squirm uncomfortably.

An unfamiliar desire wells up inside you, pushing you to be closer to your healer. You bite your lip as you glance down at her, and your eyes are drawn to her cute little nose and soft, beautiful lips. Her raven bangs obscure part of her face, and you reach over and gently brush her hair from her face.

The touch startles her awake, and she jerks away from you. Her golden eyes widen in surprise, and she looks around before her wide eyes settle on you.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before a dark red tint rises in her cheeks. Slowly, she moves back toward you, breaking eye contact as she looks down at her lap. Ever so gently, she rests her head on your shoulder, and black and yellow strands mingle softly.

You stay like that for a few minutes, listening to her quiet breathing. You aren't sure why, but your desire to be closer to her hasn't faded away, and you need to do something about it before it drives you mad.

Gently you pull away from her, and she immediately brings her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and bowing her head.

"Hey." You speak quietly, and her ears twitch at the sound of your voice.

"Look at me." Your voice is a bit more stern, and her head whips up to look at you, a dark blush adorning her cheeks.

You look away from her for a moment, scanning the side of your bed for the item you saw earlier. Finding it, you lean over to grab it before straightening up.

"Come closer." You command, patting the bed in front of you as you sit up and cross your legs.

She hesitantly moves closer on her hands and knees, and you insistently pat the bed once more.

She sits in front of you, unsure of what you want. You raise your hand, bringing the item in your grasp into her view.

"Let me brush your hair."

She hesitates, then nods. Turning so her back is to you, she snuggles up close to you.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you stare at her adorable cat ears perked up ever so attentively atop her head, and you close your eyes for a moment as you try to calm your nerves.

Opening them, you focus on her hair. Starting at the top and working ever so carefully as you try to avoid pulling her hair, you began brushing her hair in long, languid strokes.

After a few moments, you can tell she loves it. She relaxes in front of you, no longer sitting quite so stiffly.

Her ears twitch every so often, and you listen to her breathing slow as you slowly, methodically, draw the brush through her soft raven hair.

It doesn't take long for her to fall asleep once more, and as she sways side to side in front of you, attempting to retain consciousness, you can't control the smile that lifts the corner of your mouth.

Soon, the tranquil peace is broken by a rustling at your tent, and it stirs your healer awake. Instantly, she stiffens, straightening in front of you but not daring to move without your word.

"Yang."

You hear Vanir's voice outside your tent, and you tear your gaze away from your healer's soft shiny hair.

"Yes? Come in."

He pushes aside the tent flap and steps into your tent. In his hands is the neatly folded wolf pelt that you slaughtered yesterday.

"Your fur, it's ready."

"Bring it here." You order.

He steps closer, placing the fur beside you on your bed.

You thank him, and he exits.

"I got this for you, you know." You speak softly as you set the brush down. Reaching out, you grab the fur by an edge and unfold it. It has been well prepared, the flesh soft and supple. The fur bears no weapon marks, and is incredibly soft.

"M-me?" She speaks for the first time in a while, her voice timid.

"For you." You repeat, reaching around her to pull the fur into her lap. You wrap it around her, then without warning, wrap your arms around her and pull her backward into your chest.

She yelps at the sudden movement, and you chuckle as your arms encircle her waist. You pull her tightly to you, and rest your chin on her shoulder. With her soft hair against your cheek, you inhale her scent as you pull the wolf fur over the both of you.

"I got it for you... " You murmur, your voice low, "To keep you warm when I'm not here."

Author's note: Yang cares, in her own special way. Reviews are always appreciated, let me know what you think.