Also on my AO3: 1nkmistress_1ra
They took the tumble with very little stride. Both of their summoning patches were ripped and scraped well and thorough that the pentacles were interrupted. Fletcher was lucky enough to land in a puddle of mud and moss, which Tarquin hit his head against a rock farther out into the area.
"Damn it!" Tarquin cursed upon seeing his leather patch. He threw it into the bushes of leaves, sealing its status as Lost. "This is your fault!" He turned to Fletcher.
Fletcher was doing as well as Tarquin: disheveled and losing his patience.
"Oh, it is," Fletcher said, dull. Strain and sarcasm gripped his voice as it relied on it. Fletcher scraped and dusted his jacket from the excess dirt and mud.
"Yes!" Tarquin said.
Fletcher slung his bow and arrows onto his back while Tarquin ranted on about the incident. He heard the screech of both his demons above them. He strung his bow and nocked an arrow, but didn't draw, and began to trek forward.
"Listen to me, Wulf, if it was one thing, you and your demon-" Tarquin started, but Fletcher cut him off.
"Shut up, I hear something," Fletcher said nad tried to listen.
"Trebius! Get down here!" Tarquin shouted up the cliff, where the Hydra stood. Trebius looked down pawed at the cliffside like it was a rug, causing a few pebbles to fall. But he didn't dare go down. Neither Ignatius nor Athena built up the courage to follow Fletcher, either.
The cliff was steep, protruding. Athena could have gotten down, Ignatius could have gotten down, but Trebius wouldn't have made it down without sending the rest of the cliff tumbling.
Fletcher rolled his eyes and trudged further into the land. The air was humid and fog billowed around their ankles. The metallic smell of decay was faint in their nostrils, which didn't give them much hope.
"Get down here!" Tarquin shouted again and Trebius tried this time. He reached a limb down over the edge before retreating after loose dirt started to fall under his weight. He disappeared beyond the edge shortly after that.
Fletcher wandered around, trying to block out Tarquin's rant about disloyal demons. He pushed past the large leaves of the forest before gasping. A river! Which meant life was close. Which meant food. He smiled and approached the sound of the river until he saw an antler. He was right! He watched his footing, keeping his footfall silent as he hid behind the bushed. Seeing the animal in full view, he sighed. An elk.
Fletcher took a deep breath. He'd hunted elk before, of course. He considered them his greatest triumphs back in Pelt. Then he heard a roar. The elk ran before Fletcher could shoot. "Tarquin, control Trebius, you just let it get away!" Fletcher gestured to the direction of the elk.
"Oh.. my apologies Lord Wulf for your incompetent skills in hunting."
"So, you can do better?" Fletcher said with a raised eyebrow. Sure, he liked a challenge but as far as he knew, Tarquin was skilled in magic.
"Of course."
"Alright." Fletcher forced the bow into Tarquin's hands then unslung his quiver and slammed it into Tarquin's stomach, letting it go when he takes it. "We can follow the river and hopefully come across a village. If we're lucky I get to see you hunt."
Tarquin looked back up at the edge of the cliff where Ignatius and Athena disappeared. They started the trek.
By the river, they both caught sight of a doe. Tarquin gave Fletcher a smug look and nocked the bow. Fletcher already pointed out a few flaws in Tarquin's stance, but nothing was said. His shoulders were too tense and his arrow was barely anchored to his face and more to his neck, and his bow arm was twisted out in a way that the inner elbow faced up. Getting that doe would be by sheer luck.
The arrow landed short in the river. The doe reared back and ran into the woods. Despite Fletcher's silence, Tarquin gave a quick, "Shut up."
"How about this, I'll hunt for the rest of the night." Fletcher took his bow back and retrieved the arrow from the mud. "Start a fire, I'll probably find a fish at this rate." Fletcher nocked the arrow and followed the river further down. He found quite the school and waited until two, maybe three would swim over the same stop. He fired. Catching two on the same arrow, much to his relief. One was still alive, unfortunately.
He continued, remarking that two with one arrow was by sheer luck. The rest he took out one by one before stringing them onto one arrow for an easier carry.
"Tarquin, Dinner!" Fletcher announced upon returning to the site. Tarquin had already tried building some form of shelter. He stabbed through a large leaf with a stick and hoped it would stay up, in case of rain.
"Tarquin are you trying to build shelter?"
"No, I'm binding a book, of course, I'm making shelter!" Tarquin shouted the last sentence.
"Well, you're not going to get anywhere with that just sticks and rocks. Try the reeds instead. Anyway," Fletcher set out the fish. "Guard these and don't let anything get to them. Do you want me to build the fire?"
"I'd call it mandatory for you to do so. If you can"
Fletcher scoffed through his nose. He gathered a few twigs and a small patch of fur, which had a bit of blood in it, and focused the rest of his mana on creating the fire. But no flame came, and a burning erupted on his finger ad he reeled back. "Ah! Something's keeping me from doing this…"
Tarquin sneered and nudged Fletcher off balance into the brush before trying himself. Soon enough a burning sensation struck his fingers, like he's stuck his hand in a fire.
"Ah! Looks like we're on our own for this."
Fletcher looked around, and picked a chunk of rock then pulled his skinning knife. HE strick the rock a few times, cursing the moisture in the air. He hoped he wouldn't set the forest alight as he tried to bring them warmth.
Sparks finally showed, and he breathed a sigh. They weren't completely hopeless, yet.
He continued all while Tarquin sneered and said it wouldn't work before the tinder caught a spark.
"I'll admit, I'm impressed," Tarquin scoffed.
Fletcher gave him a look before taking the fish back. Two T-shaped sticks stabbed in the dirt later and they had a spit. "Never eat this raw. I got sick from this stuff once… " Fletcher muttered and roasted the fish over the fire, turning it slowly.
They ate in silence before Tarquin turned back to his makeshift home and curled under the leaf. - Fletcher jolted awake with his quiver under his temple. He hauled himself up. Much to his chagrin, the fog was thicker and floated up to his thighs.
"Tarquin," Fletcher turned to wake Tarquin, only to find a small pile of leaves and twigs were he laid. Fletcher cursed and strung his bow. His only option was to follow the river. And so he did.
The walk must have taken hours before he saw the sun overhead. Fletcher had a crawling feeling like something was watching him from behind or his side. He looked to his left and nocked the arrow.
Something was.
It darted out of sight before Fletcher could fire. A pair of yellow eyes with white pupils reappeared in front of him. Fletcher fired and the arrow landed between its eyes. He heard screeching the next second and ran towards the thing. It was humanoid and it was taller than he'd ever seen.
Its skin was grey. The thing's legs were more bone than anything. Its rib cage was prominent, Fletcher almost fainted seeing the organs moved and squirm under its skin. Its head… oh dear gods, its head. The skin was nowhere to be seen, but its eyes and mouth were there.
Fletcher grabbed the arrow and yanked it out of the head before he could let the image sink in. He ran from the body and heard more rustling around him. Maybe it was he was going mad or something really was after him.
Fletcher nocked the bloodied arrow and aimed. He stopped by the river. He heard a roar behind him and wheeled around. He fired. The arrow hit the beast's nose. Fletcher sat back against a tree and wiped the sweat from his brow. He began to wonder if he was in the Ether again. The portals showing up around the land weren't unheard of. Then again, it wasn't as Fletcher remembered it.
He hauled himself back up and took the arrow out. He followed the river until he heard voices. Muttering voiced that sounded angry. No, irritated. He plugged his ears, wondering if it was just him. No… it was real.
He slowly approached the talking and recognized it upon a closer listen.
"Damn it! Does Fletcher know when to sharpen this damn thing?!" Tarquin looked at the khopesh before sheathing it. He patted around and drew his own sword, a three-foot blade with the Forsyth crest engraved in the hilt.
Fletcher didn't expect to catch up with him. He watched as Tarquin fished in the river, stabbing at a fish before making a fire.
Fletcher strolled further into the woods along the rover until he was in full view. "Fletcher!" Tarquin shouted. Fletcher flinched and looked at the river. Tarquin pulled the coat off him and hurled it at him. The latter stumbled back, dropping his bow and arrow to catch the jacket. He slipped it on and pulled his bow back out.
"Thanks."
"Don't expect that generosity out of me again. It smelled of you." Tarquin grimaced.
"Good to know," Fletcher said and nocked a clean arrow. He fired it into the water and skewered into more fish than expected. "Tarquin, how often did your father teach you to hunt?"
Tarquin stabbed at the water again and almost slipped getting out of the water.
"He spoke more about politics and Business than hunting. I didn't think I'd need it so most lessons went ignored," Tarquin said before hauling himself up the bank and sitting next to the fire, "Why, How long did your father teach you hunting."
"Almost ten years."
Tarquin looked at Fletcher, who was roasting his meals. "Ten years. Had a hell of trade, did you?"
"I couldn't kill humans, if that's what you're wondering."
"That would be barbaric."
They didn't speak until Fletcher got up to keep moving. "Can I have my khopesh back?" he said.
"This? Sure. it's a shoddy thing, anyway." Tarquin tossed the sword in the sheath at Fletcher.
He caught the blade and unsheathed it. He finished the fish and stood, unsheathing the blade. It was in excellent condition, Fletcher made sure of that. He shrugged and used it to cut at the branches before him.
For another ten yards, he followed the river until he heard more shuffling behind him. He nocked an arrow and aimed at the shifting leaves.
"Don't shoot! It's just me!"
Fletcher lowered the bow. "You're following me?"
"Like it's a choice. I will admit this… " Tarquin grimaced and swallowed his pride, something Fletcher was surprised about. "You know more than I do about this area of study. And who knows, maybe you commoners will be good for something after all."
"Alright, but if you want to stay with me, you're doing a share of the work. You can build fires and shelter and what have you. Seeing the demons nervous about coming here, I'd say this place is dangerous. We'll take turns in Watch during sleep."
"It's a deal."