The world was dark. The horse shifted in its sleep, snorting in some equine dream.
Guenhyvar was beside him as he rested, just within reach of his fingertips. Her presence comforted him, in the cool of the evening.
The nearby river rushed over its rocky bed, making a sound like the wind rushing through the forest, only louder.
One night. One night of falling asleep in Brionne's arms. One night of feeling the warmth of a lover's body beside his as he slept. Lover. His mind still shivered at the word; so unfamiliar, so dangerous. It made him strong in a hundred ways, and vulnerable in a hundred more.
One night and he could feel the loneliness as never before. He felt naked, though he slept in his armor. He felt alone, though he had Guen beside him; Nala and Brionne asleep together less than two strides away.
A soft rustle of motion sounded, and he held his breath. It was no threat, this he knew. It came from too close, from inside the circle of their camp. A hand touched his shoulder, and he imagined he could feel the warmth through the mithryl. He moved nothing but his eyes. He could see Brionne's fingers on his shoulder, and then he felt the young man's body settle behind his, his knees fitting in the curve of his, his arm slipping just so over Drizzt's waist.
Soft breath stirred the hair at the nape of his neck, and he could feel Brionne slipping back to sleep, or perhaps to sleep for the first time tonight.
His own eyes grew heavier. Guenhyvar stretched out, awake but relaxed.
A soft sound rustled behind him. Quiet steps in the leaves. Nala sank to the ground behind Brionne, settling herself against the warmth of him.
It felt like family.
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The hunter woke her men. She didn't have to curse or kick. They were professionals and a soft word was all it took for them to be saddling their horses and packing up the camp.
She checked her mount's straps. An instinct, honed over a hundred such hunts, told her that this would be the day.
Daylight was just beginning to light the horizon when they mounted their horses and began to follow the dogs.
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They forded the river at a wide spot. Brionne and Nala rode the weathered old horse while Drizzt held onto its mane. Even here, the waters were swift, and once the steed stumbled and they were almost swept downstream before it regained it's footing. On the other side, he resummoned Guenhyvar and they traveled as four once more.
A second night of good sleep had done them all a remarkable good. Brionne behaved as if his arm caused him less pain than it had, and the wound on Drizzt's forearm was healing well also. Nala smiled more often, and seemed happy in her own silent way.
Past the next rise, the forest was thinner, and younger. It looked as if the land had been cleared for farms only a few years in the past, and since left to run wild again. They moved through shoulder-high brush. Insects buzzed as they gathered sweet nectar from the myriad of blooming wildflowers.
Drizzt wasn't really expecting to see any sort of pursuit when he glanced over his shoulder, back at the hill's edge.
What he saw was the forms of three riders. The group moved with purpose, determination. They knew where they were going, and were moving with haste. Guenhyvar snarled when she saw them.
"Brionne..." he called and pointed back behind them. The young man turned around to look. His face lost color and expression.
"Hunters." Brionne whispered, that dead-flatness that Drizzt was beginning to associate with strong emotions in his voice. He didn't know the word, but he could assume it's meaning.
Three riders. He would look for a place to make a stand, try to get Brionne to take Nala and go. He could join them later if he had to. If he was able.
He looked up at Brionne, at the determination in the silver eyes. Making the young man ride on without him was not going to be easy, he knew.
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The sight of her prey, running from her, excited the hunter more than the gold of the contract. This was the moment she lived for, the moment when the hunt was almost over, and hope was dying in her prey's heart.
The two on the woodcutter's horse must be the runaway slaves; the cloaked figure beside them, the fey. She narrowed her eyes as a black form moved through the bushes near the trio. An animal of some sort, like an impossibly large cat, moved through the weeds. She couldn't tell if it accompanied them or was stalking them also.
With a call, she urged her horse and the dogs down the scrub-filled hillside, letting the men follow her as they could. One of her gloved hands rested on the mount's reins; the other on the dagger at her waist.
"Soon" was becoming now.
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Alustriel called up the portal again, reformed her scrying spell. This time she would find him. If it took every trick she knew, and all of her strength, she would find him.
Catti-brie and Bruenor stood behind her, watching with anxious eyes as she searched for their friend
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They were caught against the fast-flowing river that cut the next valley. Brionne was on foot with Drizzt, trying to lead the horse into the icy water when the men attacked. A dark haired woman watched from the back of a third horse, a dagger in her hand.
Brionne watched with horrified fascination as Drizzt fought the mounted men, trying to keep them from he and Nala. There was a dark beauty to it, the smooth motions of his body, the balance of his motions. It was almost a dance.
Guenhyvar was being harassed by the dogs. She would lunge at one, only to have the lighter opponent scamper back out of range as the other one would leap in and nip at her. All three animals were taking damage, in nicks and scratches, but more importantly, their distraction was taking her out of the combat.
Now Brionne held the horse's bridle, as Drizzt fought for his freedom, and for Nala's. Drizzt cut one of the men, but the slaver refused to fall. Drizzt dashed between the horses, closer to Brionne. The tip of his scimitar found the throat of the other man as he passed.
A glint of metal caught Brionne's eye. The world began to move slowly, as it had the day the bandit tried to slit his throat. The woman's dagger was airborne, flying from her gloved fingers towards Drizzt's heart. In that instant nothing mattered. Not his own life, not even Nala. In desperation, he threw himself forward, between Drizzt and that weapon, determined that the blade should hit him instead.
He failed.
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