Chapter Three:
Kagome woke with the gray calm before dawn, her eyes falling first on the length of rope lying twisted beside her face. Because of this, her first thought was again that they had come to hang her, and she scrambled to her knees away from it frantically. Her attention was then drawn away from the rope though, leaving her staring, half-asleep and disoriented: for the first time ever, she awoke not inside a house, but outside.
The towering maples above her swayed slightly in the early morning breeze, and she was lying on some sort of reddish blanket. The sheer openness of it all numbed her--waking up outdoors was a very different experience--and it was several moments before she remembered the previous night.
That's right, she thought, the Indians. She'd been kidnapped by Indians. She wasn't in her house because her house had been burnt down.
Somehow that didn't reassure her.
She looked at the spot where White-hair, as she'd unofficially dubbed him in her mind, lay the night before, and realized with surprise that it was empty. Unsteadily, she got to her feet and the rope around her waist fell forgotten to the ground.
"Hello..?" she called out timidly, turning and searching the trees for any sign of her captor. Everything was suspended in a sleepy, almost tangible quiet, and a low mist hung in the distance. She was all alone; the white-haired man was gone.
Irrationally now, her first reaction was a mix of indignation and disappointment--strange as it may seem. She wasn't sure why. The thought that she was so unworthy as a captive that the Indian man had simply left her was just another insult added to the burning of her house, dragging her through the forest, and sleeping next to her shirtless all night. Being raised a good wholesome Christian girl, she could not get over the lack of shirt.
The thought was quickly replaced however with a much more logical, much louder instinct: Run.
Run now.
Run now and escape.
Go!
She turned to flee, but had not gotten three steps before the now-familiar voice broke the morning air, somehow both bored and commanding at the same time:
"Kyeh."
Kagome started at the disembodied voice, and stepped back ..and that's when her eyes fell where she hadn't thought to look before. Up.
White-hair, idly braiding one of the snowy locks that draped over his shoulders, was sitting cross-legged on a branch. About thirty feet up, acting like it was the most normal place to sit in the world. Kagome watched wordlessly as he finished the first braid, tying it off with a small string of colored beads that chinked lightly when he moved. He then glared at her darkly, snorted, and proceeded to braid the other lock.
It figured that he was an early riser.
When the strange Indian finished, he sat back and folded his arms, diligently not looking at her. Kagome frowned at this; it wasn't like she had meant to be captured. If he didn't like her so much, why didn't he just let her go?
"So, what are you doing up there?" she asked politely, attempting to break the tense silence between them. It was a reasonable question; most men didn't sit in trees.
The look he gave her could have shattered glass. "Feh. Ama'no, taya matsuku."
Oh, right. No English.
"Up," she said slowly, moving her hands upwards in an exaggerated motion. Best she learn how to get around the language problem now. "You--" she pointed at him, "up--" she pointed at the tree, "why?" She shrugged her shoulders and indicated the tree again.
White-hair lifted an eyebrow at her bizarre antics. For the moment at least, he seemed distracted enough by the possibility that she was mad to forget to glare. After a short pause he pointed up as well, then nodded at the branch he was sitting on. "Seto na?"
"Yes!" she cried, elated at her success. "Yes, up. Why are you up there?" She waved her hands at the tree again.
He now seemed quite convinced that she was mad, but shrugged his shoulders anyway. "Ako." Then, with a look of 'if you say so' on his face, he dropped from the tree, grabbed her by the waist, and leapt back up into it with her in tow.
"What're you doing?!" Kagome screamed, clinging desperately to the branch beside him. She felt slightly faint--she was thirty feet up a maple tree, perched on a branch, next to a wild Indian savage with strange ears, strange eyes, and still no shirt.
White-hair smirked at her loss of composure, mimicking her own hand gestures. "Ehet maye." Then, a carefully pronounced: "Up."
Kagome faltered and clutched the bark in dismay. He'd interpreted her question as a request to be up in the tree.
This wasn't going so well at all.
The young girl clenched her eyes tightly together, taking several deep breaths to calm her shaken nerves. She opened them again and determinedly looked down to see how far up she was--and found that the day had gotten considerably brighter during their 'conversation.' Shafts of morning sunlight filtered through the leaves around her, spreading out in white curtains across the forest floor. From her vantage point she could make out the tribe stirring a short distance away, lighting cookfires and untying prisoners. It occurred to her that that's why he was up there--he was keeping lookout. Somehow the observation calmed her, maybe because he was showing some real concern for the other people. She had forgotten that she was captured not only by an Indian, but by the apparent leader of this war party.
At some point her gaze must have drifted to the strange-eared man, because White-hair noticed her eyes on him and the scowl abruptly returned. "Baha kot, chi'taio," he growled. Without any sort of warning he then leapt out of the tree, disappearing through the branches.
"Wait," Kagome pleaded, panicking. "Wait--don't leave me up here!" He returned several minutes later however, bringing a birch-bark container of ground cornmeal and berries that was baked into something rather like bread but not quite. It was still warm; he must have gone to the cookfires to get it.
"Thank you," she blinked in surprise, both relieved and grateful. He only rolled his eyes and glared impatiently. Nothing more was said as she ate, but the moment she finished a dangerous smirk flashed across his face. That was her only notice before he grabbed her again and dove from the tree as fast as he'd carried her into it.
The march was about to begin.
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"Het! Mara-ro sai, squaw. Het, het!" Inuyasha glared mercilessly at the girl and gave her a shove, wishing that he could will her away with the power of that glare alone. His captive stumbled forward and gave him a blank look. The hanyou sighed and repeated the command. "Het." She finally seemed to get the message, because she turned back around and picked up pace. Honestly, he was afraid he'd have to carry her again she was so slow.
They had packed up and set out soon after dawn, beginning the long, long walk back to the tribe's village. It would take many days, perhaps even weeks to get there with this many captives. He had not said another word to the girl that had ended up as his charge, just pointed at the other Englishmen marching and given her a scathing look. He'd then ignored her from that point on, following close behind; except when she was lagging.
The entire tribe was talking about it, and he seethed quietly. For the first time, their mysterious, solitary leader had taken a captive. And it had more than gotten their attention--he could hear their blatant speculations while they walked, as much as they tried to conceal them. He had led every war party for years, yet, unusually, had never taken prisoners like most and always vehemently refused to; surely then, they reasoned openly, he must favor this girl. The talk centered about her almost as much as him.
Stupid wench, he cursed inwardly. Stupid, stupid brainless wench. I'll kill Miroku when I get my claws on him. I'll kill him. As if on cue, the dark-haired Indian glanced over at him from the other side of the crowd--he had the good sense at least to stay away right now. Inuyasha glared murderously back at him and Miroku quickly looked away, but not before letting his eyes pause appreciatively on the girl. Which only riled the hanyou's blood further.
Alright; so it wasn't really the English girl's fault that he'd torched her house, or that he was then the only one capable of getting her out of it safely, but that didn't make the situation any less infuriating and he had to take it out on someone. Now he was stuck with one of those arrogant, savage human invaders.
He didn't trust them. At all.
He didn't even like associating closely with people on a normal basis, close as he felt to the tribe; social interaction made him uncomfortable. He walked alone. And now this..what the hell was he supposed to do with a foreign girl?
But he was stuck with it. For once he wished the tribal laws were different, because they were why he had so staunchly argued against getting her, why he wanted Miroku to do it, and why he couldn't just pass her on to anybody else or get rid of her. It was tradition: the first to touch a captive owns them. In other cases it prevented disputes over who was who's, but in his case it stuck him with this unwanted burden. Damn it all.
His attention was brought back to the journey as he noticed the girl trying to say something to another Englishwoman crunching through the leaves near her. Surprisingly, the older woman gave the girl a contemptuous look and moved further away, causing the hanyou to lift an eyebrow in puzzlement. Why would the others avoid his captive?
He decided to dismiss it as foreign human irrationality, and went back to studiously ignoring her. But now she soon caught his attention a second time: she had slowed down again.
Shaking his head, he made a few quick bounds and was striding alongside her, glaring suspiciously. But she didn't notice; her eyes were downcast, looking sadly at the ground as she walked. Almost depressed. Inuyasha was startled; whatever the other woman said had obviously upset her more than he'd thought.
Having no idea what to do in this situation, he lightly tapped her shoulder to get her attention. She jumped and looked at him with wide, fearful eyes. Relaxing only slightly when she recognized the white-haired man, her expression turned to one of confusion.
"Het, squaw," he said firmly, pointing ahead.
The girl's face fell a little, and she stopped walking. Now what? Narrowing his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak-when she held up a hand for him to wait.
"Kagome," she said slowly and deliberately, pointing at herself. Inuyasha blinked. Hn? Ah... That must be her name. She must have known or figured out what 'squaw' meant, and wanted to be called by her own name. Something made him bristle inwardly though. Well, she doesn't have to say it like I'm stupid. Of course, that might have something to do with the tree incident, but.. that was beside the point. He was just testing her then.
Well...and amusing himself.
The hanyou folded his arms and smirked, mischief in those golden eyes: "Squaw."
The girl shook her head emphatically, acting like a mother or a schoolteacher. "Ka-go-me."
"Squaw." He grinned.
"Ka-go-me."
"Squaw."
"Kagome!"
"Squaw."
The girl--Kagome--stopped, and looked at him critically, her gray eyes unsure. Realizing she was being played with, she threw up her hands in frustration and began stalking away angrily, heading after the main group. Who had all stopped to discreetly watch the scene, but now found random leaves on the ground or birds in the sky to be strangely fascinating.
So caught up in getting away from him that she wasn't looking, Kagome stumbled over a gnarled oak root and fell--and found herself abruptly in his arms as he leapt forward and caught her.
Inuyasha felt her stiffen against him and heard her sharp intake of breath, but simply stood her back upright, gently, and let her go. That was when he noticed the tears in her eyes.
And a pang of guilt held him frozen while she brushed herself off, and gave him a small, surprising smile. She quickly rubbed away the tears and trotted off after the others again, leaving him standing there.
All his anger and mistrust of the girl was suspended momentarily; he had made her cry. Had he really been that rough? After all, she hadn't asked for this. He felt like a savage, like what everyone made him and his people out to be. He felt, for the first time in years, bad.
The moment passed swiftly and his scowl returned, but the feeling lingered long after, haunting his thoughts as they walked through the waning day.
Why did he feel so bad?
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A/N: Argh, this chapter gave me so much trouble. Couldn't get it to go right no matter what I did, maybe because it was just setting up character interactions, development, etc and stuff (have to pace things carefully), or simply because I have been running on three hours of sleep a night for a straight week. But I'm at least satisfied now. Hopefully it was okay; sorry again! ;_; *cringes and runs*