Chapter 9 Know Your Enemy

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"Wake up, lass!" the hunter whispers, grabbing my shoulder and shaking it. I groan softly and blink my eyes a few times, taking in the world about me. It's dark, icy cold, and silent as death, the same silhouettes of the trees pressing against the grey glow of the air.

"Here," he says, pushing pieces of dried meat into my hand.

"Thank you," I say, my voice hoarse. Day three. I wish I could mark this somewhere. Oh, his skin of ale! "Here, I forgot." I pick up his skin off my lap and offer it to him.

He shakes his head. "Keep it. I dinnae need it."

My eyes widen. How…he said he does not need it, but to tell me to keep it...he has lent me his coat, fed me, protected me—because of the deal I made with him. Still, the price he has asked for to deliver me to Hammond's is far too cheap. Sinister plot or not, there's...yes, he's keeping me alive, but he's also being...generous with me. He has given me something I can call mine and mine alone. "Thank you," I whisper. I wince. Damn it, will he mock me thanking him for this, too?

"Yer welcome." He turns from me and paces about the clearing. I sigh. At least he didn't mock me for thanking him. While he paces about the clearing, I scarf down the salty deer meat. The salt quickly dries out my mouth, so I pull the cork out of his skin—my skin—and take a few cautious sips of ale, making sure to save enough ale for the next three or four days.

"Are ye done?" he whispers.

"Yes."

"Then let's move." He turns and walks through the trees like a nightcat on the prowl again, his steps as silent as a ghost. I scramble to my feet and follow after him, wincing from the burning pain in my back. The burning recedes to a dull, throbbing ache. My stomach churns. This infection is starting to take hold. I pray we get out of here in time to find a healer.

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The hunter slows to a stop. "Let's rest for a moment."

I lean against a tree, granting some relief to my aching legs. God, I have never walked so much in my life! I sigh to myself and shake my head. There will be a lot more walking than this and I must be able to keep up. I glance at the hunter's shadow. He swings his rucksack around to his side and rummages through it, pulling out another skin. I watch him uncork his skin and take his first swig of ale for the day. Or perhaps he drank a little this morning while I was still asleep. I frown. What a depressing thought, for something to have such a hold of someone as ale does of him.

I look down at my skin, though all I see is its faint shadow against the black void of the forest floor. I lift it higher to hold it against the grey air, its lumpy oval silhouette and wood cork now visible. A small smile spreads my lips while my heart lightens. I have my boots, my belt, my half torn dress, all of which I scavenged from corpses. I had my chamberpot, but I had to leave that behind. This skin is a gift that was given to me just for me to have. I didn't have to scavenge it. It was not given to me to facilitate my imprisonment. This is just something for me to have, and the hunter—Eric…he gave it to me.

I look at him. I open my mouth to thank him—wait, will he mock me if I thank him for this as he did when I thanked him for lending me his coat and feeding me...though, perhaps he was not mocking me, but rather basic human decency? God, I don't know! Ah hell, I want him to know how grateful I am for his gift. "Thank you again for this skin."

He lowers the skin from his mouth and turns the shadow of his head to me. "Yer welcome," he says flatly, his words lacking the power behind his action.

"No, you misunderstand." I lower my skin to my stomach. "You've given me something that I haven't had in…" Should I tell him about my imprisonment? He asked me what does a young woman like me know about sorrow and I couldn't answer him then. I swallow hard. If I answer his question, I will be opening myself up to him more than is safe.

He laughs once. "It's just a skin." Though the words could be mocking, they lack the tone to be mockery or sarcasm.

"No." I shake my head. "It may only be a skin to you, but…well, I haven't had something given to me for fourteen years, something that I can just call mine and not have some horrible reason as to…" He will never understand what I mean. "I don't know how to say it, so forget what I said." I look down at the black forest floor, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Forget everything I said except my thanks."

Tense silence falls between us for a moment.

"It can be the wee thin's that mean the most," he says softly, pulling my gaze up to him. Even though I cannot see him now, I feel the weight and the intensity of his eyes on me. "Is that what ye mean?"

My heart softens towards him. He didn't forget my words like I told him too, but instead he is trying to help me find what I was trying to tell him...or is he trying to understand what I'm trying to tell him?

"It's more than that…Eric." His name leaves a foreign feeling in my mouth. I've never said that name before. "It's more than just this skin. It's the meaning behind it."

"What, the act of givin' it?" he asks.

I frown. "No, that's part of it, but…" I sigh. "I cannot find the words."

He stores his skin in his satchel. "Maybe the words'll come to ye later." He throws his rucksack around his back and treads onward with silent steps. "Let's move."

I follow after him reluctantly. Perhaps the words will come to me later, but I cannot see how they can without me spilling too much of myself out to him.

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On and on we walk in silence, me following him as he weaves through the trees like a skilled weaver pulls the thread through his stitch work. What if the hunter is wrong about Finn? I know Finn will be fortunate enough to survive this forest and the black blight shrooms, but what if he was able to recover quicker than the hunter said and is already on his way here with a new hunter, or a search party this time? My mind turns to the poor horse that I stole and rode to the border of this forest. My heart aches for the beast. Did the black glass knights pull him out? Or did they abandon him to slowly sink to his death?

I quicken my steps, wincing from the brief stabbing burns in my back, but I manage to come close enough to the hunter to whisper, "Hunter, may I speak with you for a moment?"

He glances back at me and looks ahead. "What?"

Thank God, he is willing. "On your way here, did you see one of the Queen's black horses in a muddy pit?"

"The horse ye rode here, aye. I found his corpse sunk in the mud. Why do ye ask?"

I gasp, tears springing to my eyes, my heart aching terribly. "God, that poor horse. That poor horse." I weep to myself, but I manage to keep up with him. The hunter stops abruptly, so I stop and turn my back to him, hiding my face in my hands. Guilt weighs on my heart. He carried me away to safety and he ends up paying for it with his life. I care not if anyone tells me that he was just an animal and not worth my life. Certainly human life takes priority over animal life, but to just write off animals like that—"Why do ye care?" the hunter asks softly, his tone…caring, almost. There's no condescension, no mockery, just curiosity.

I draw in a shaky breath and lower my hands from my face, trying to compose myself enough to speak without tears. "I know he was just an animal, but he saved my life. I tried to pull him out of the muddy pit. I tried! But he refused. The fear he had in his eyes…he didn't want to die."

I look back at the hunter, waiting for his response, either his scoffing or his mockery. He is a hunter. Of course he would not see the value of animal life. I wait…and wait…he just looks at me. Though I cannot see him, his eyes burn into me like fire.

"Let's keep movin'," he says softly. He turns and walks onward, waving his hand for me to follow. I sniffle, scrub the tears from my face, and follow him more closely. There's something different with the air about him…something welcoming. He moves a little slower, making it far easier for me to keep up with him. He glances back at me and looks ahead…checking on me, I think.

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We walk in silence for what seems an eternity before the hunter stops in a small clearing.

"We'll rest here tonight," he says. With a little more comfort, I go about the clearing and help him gather kindling for the fire. As I drop my collection of twigs and branches in the pile, he comes up beside me, his elbow brushing against mine as he sets his chopped logs down. A fearful jolt shoots down my spine, making me tremble briefly, but I fight the urge to jump back from him. I glance up at him, the shadow of his head looking down at me.

"Go o'er there." He points to the other side of the pile. I go to the other side of the pile and sink to my knees, his thick leather coat providing a layer of protection between my knees and the thorny brambles of the forest floor. I hug myself tightly and breathe out a shaky breath, my teeth starting to chatter. My cheeks tingle from the cold and soon grow numb while the hunter rustles our gathered kindling to build a fire.

STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!

Just like the last two nights, one of the sparks eventually sticks to the darkness. He blows gently on it, grows it to a small flame, and sets it down at the base of the fire. I force my eyes to stay on the growing flame and not on him. I don't want to feel that bolt of lightning pass through me tonight. As soon as the flames grow large enough, I move closer to the fire until I feel the slight burn on my cheeks and forehead. I sit back on my heels and let my eyes drift shut to savor the warmth. Each day has grown colder. Soon, even the hunter's coat will not be sufficient protection from the cold. I will need to acquire proper clothing, but how? I have no gold nor any skills I can offer to earn a day's wages. I breathe out slowly. I suppose I have decent sewing skills. Perhaps once we reach the settlement, I can try to find a day's work with the local healer or a seamstress.

"Lass, why were ye imprisoned?" the hunter asks. All my muscles tense. I force my eyes open and look at the hunter across the fire. His eyes are hidden beneath the shadow of his leather hood, his gaze focused on his rucksack while he packs his skin away—the same square-shaped skin that he poured the oulinder's blood out of last evening. He must have gotten up and poured the blood border while I had my eyes closed.

"I told you, I did nothing wrong," I say, feeling defensive.

He lifts his eyes to me and scrutinizes me from under the shadow of his hood. "I'm no' accusin' ye of a crime, but yer very valuable to the Queen. Why?"

My stomach knots up with fear. "Why are you pressing this matter? That's not your concern."

He tilts his chin back and narrows his eyes at me, striking me nearly frozen with fear. "It is my concern," he says lowly. "We're both fugitives from the Queen, which makes her our enemy. The more I know about our enemy, the greater chance we have of reachin' Hammond's."

I swallow hard. I've tried to avoid answering this question, but how can I possibly evade it now without raising his suspicions? I see it in his eyes, the suspicion he already has of me. If I raise too much suspicion, he will easily leave me behind. He'll leave me far behind while I sleep. I'm not sure what he would do about his coat, if he would force me to give it up, or if he would cripple me so that I could not follow him, or if he would just snap my neck right now. I need to give him a satisfactory answer, some way to not raise his suspicio—"Well!?" he asks, impatient.

I shake my head, just becoming aware of my quivering body. "I was imprisoned the night Ravenna usurped King Mangus' throne. I–I don't know why Ravenna has kept me alive for fourteen years! I wish I knew!" God, please let him buy this codswallop. Please! Granted, it's not all codswallop. That brutal winter, Finn said she kept me alive. It must have been out of her guilt. Only recently she ordered my death because the last shred of her goodness must have been consumed by Maacthis' evil, but is all her goodness truly gone? I just…I cannot bring myself to believe that. My eyes sting and my sight of the hunter blurs.

"I don't know why!" I bury my face in my hands and weep. "She—" I scrub my face with my hands and look at the hunter across the flames. "She showed me this…awesome power of hers, the power to take life away and sustain it. She told you that she could resurrect your dead wife, right? I'm sorry, but from what she taught me, no one can give life to the dead. Life is a gift given to us by God, but with the gift of life He also gave us the gift of free will. This power she showed me is pure evil. This evil takes the gift of free will and abuses it."

"This evil," the hunter says. "She cannae bring someone back from the dead, but ye say she can take life away and sustain it. How does she take life away? How is she able to sustain it?"

I choose my words as wisely as I can. "I don't know how she does it, but I know that she can take into herself all the years, the days, and the moments that a man would have lived, and she can put his life wherever she wills. She could bind a mortal wound. She could heal illnesses that have no cures. She could make an old man young again. Or she could use the life for herself or for her brother. I gouged out Finn's eyes." The hunter's eyes widen. "Yet when I saw his shadow in this forest, he acted as if he could see. I also have no doubt that he will survive this forest and make his way back to Ravenna."

"Hmm," the hunter hums, mulling over this new revelation. He narrows his gaze on me suddenly, his pondering gone from his eyes. Or hidden. "He did have eyes when we came here to hunt ye down." Hunt ye down—those words send a chill down my spine. He shakes his head slowly, disbelief shaping his face. "In all my travels, I've ne'er heard of this power."

I frown at him. Despite Ravenna's egregious crimes, she once committed these crimes believing she was doing the right thing. Perhaps she still believes she is doing the right thing. Does that mean she still may have a shred of goodness in her heart?

"I don't know, hunter." My mind lights up in different places, connecting the dots together for the perfect lie! "Perhaps that's why she wants to kill me now after fourteen years; because I escaped with this hidden knowledge of her power. I cannot wield it myself, but what she taught me of it, she warned me to keep it secret for men's hearts are selfish and they would seek to wield this power for themselves. If they did, then there would be chaos."

The hunter looks at me, scrutinizing me, his mind hard at work behind his eyes. My body tenses more, wanting so desperately to flee from him, but I force myself to stay put. If I turn and flee, he would chase after me and kill me out of suspicion.

He breathes out through his nose, flaring his nostrils, and nods slowly. "It's a temptin' power." He stares into the fire, his eyes softening around the edges. His attention drifts away from this moment even though his eyes remain fixed on the fire. Perhaps his thoughts have turned to his dead wife? A small pang enters my heart for him.

"A good man would seek this power to save the ones he loves, but it's pure evil," I say. His eyes lift up to mine, something heavy in them. Do not speak of a man's sorrows, he said. His dead wife is a sorrow of his, but he told me to not speak of a man's sorrows. What more sorrows could he have?

I say as gently as I can, "It's an evil that corrupts the best hearts." I know that all too well. Maacthis' evil within me has been kept at bay for the past two years, but only because I try day and night to not hate others even though their hearts beat with evil. I fail sometimes, but I win enough of the fight to keep his evil at bay.

He nods slowly and says, "It's an evil we need to get far away from. Ye should eat, then go to sleep." He pulls more dried deer meat out of his satchel and rises to his feet. I watch him as he comes up to me and offers me the meat.

My heart softens more for him despite my knotted stomach. "Thank you," I say and accept the meat from him. He only nods and walks to the edge of the blood border, pacing within it, his eyes scanning the trees for any oulinders. I breathe out slowly, relief washing over me. He bought my answer. While it is not all a lie, I have omitted what truth I need to so that I can reach Hammond's fortress alive. I reach into his coat and grab hold of Sara's ring without thinking, clutching it tightly in my fist. I will fulfill my promise to Greta and the favor Sara asked of me no matter what it takes.