More exploration of Tavia and Ryiel, my girls I've been building since Tri/4. Have some action!
(The villages of Aquarin and Sleat don't exist, I made them up, but the Hinmerun Mountains exist in the Schrade Region!)

Tavia threw fresh twigs into the coals of last night's fire and stoked the embers. Smoke mixed with the early morning mist, tickling her eyes and nose. Her stomach rolled with hunger after yesterday's hike; they'd thrown up their tents and fell over with exhaustion before they could decide an order for the nightly watch.

Thankfully today was the last day of the hunt.

The party had followed the Glavenus for two days, trading blows and cautiously letting it escape across the mountain forests, chasing it further from the nearby village. It was exhausted, the spines along its back broken, a substantial gash in its side where their gunlancer broke through thick plates. All the party had to do was follow the line of broken trees and blood, pushing it from its desperate meals until it settled into a well hidden nest.

The party leader sent a letter for a guild rep yesterday. If everything went according to plan, they could load up the corpse and collect their handsome reward before the sun set.

Tavia just had to slice off the tail. Simple.

She stirred up the fire until it swallowed the twigs, lively and warm, before settling down to her rations. She missed Guild-sanctioned camps and the fully stocked canteen. Starting her morning without eggs and a hot drink was no morning she wanted to face, but here she was, the first of the party to rise.

Clouds speckled the lilac sky, distant birds making themselves known with noisy clarity. Tavia swatted at the bugs that whined around her ears and took another bite of her rations.

Tavia hated nature. She hated dry salted meat. But today was the last day.

Behind her, a tent flap ruffled and the gunlancer stepped out, fully armored except his helmet, and stretched his arms wide. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air, he groaned as his bones popped and ran his hands through his short gray hair.

"Ah, just when I think I'm getting too old for this, we get a view like that." He nodded towards the horizon, the hilltops and trees covered with mist and haloed by the rising sun.

"I'd trade it for a sturdy roof over my head," Tavia said. Two days of traveling and fighting and she still didn't know her team by name; no one seemed offended that when she did address them, it was by their weapon. "Give me a rundown tavern with watery ale and lice in the beds over this outdoor living any day."

"You city-dwellers are all the same. You'd trade your freedom for those walls, eh?"

Tavia spit a chunk of gristle into the fire; it spit and hissed like an angry cat. "Maybe not that far, but walls are better than wide open spaces. Anything can show up in a spot like this."

"That's why we sit watch." He frowned, his eyes searching around their paltry campsite. "Speaking of, where's Royse?"

Tavia shrugged, not entirely sure which member had last watch. Did she even take a shift? A hazy part of her remembered leaning against a tree, her knife across her lap and her long sword on the ground beside her. Did someone switch with her? She barely remembered crawling out of her tent. She only remembered hunger.

"Beats me," Tavia said. "We seem to have made it through the night, though. Unless this is all some ugly nightmare."

The gunlancer looked up suddenly and Tavia held her breath, strained her ears. Did a predator sneak up? No. Somewhere in the distance was the clatter of cart wheels and hooves, and the raspy singing of felynes.

The gunlancer smiled, his lined face suddenly youthful. "Nah, it's a dream come true. I'll get the rest of 'em up."

He disappeared into the other two tents and it wasn't long before the other members of the party stumbled out. The party leader—a gunner as old, but not as gray, as the gunlancer—rubbed his bald head as he sucked on a strip of jerky. The hammer user—a woman with biceps bigger than Tavia's—sat across the fire and began to rebraid her hair.

The Guild cart was pulled by a small team of anteka; three energetic felynes bounced in the back, their paws waving wildly as their song came to an end. Beside the cart, dressed in blinding white and red, the Guild representative walked with her nose in a book. If it was anyone else, Tavia would claim it was impossible to hike and read at the same—but this was Ryiel. For her, it was expected.

Ryiel glanced up and waved with a smile. Tavia's heart fluttered, her ration nearly stuck in her throat. Coming up the hillside, Ryiel looked like a dream. Her uniform was spotless, cap still straight on her head, not a single golden thread on her capelet snagged after hiking. Her dark skin was dewey, her black eyes sparkling as she tucked one of her microbraids behind her ear.

Meanwhile Tavia was in her underclothes, sweat baked into the fibers from two days of fighting, her milky skin crusted with mud, greasy red hair stuck to her head. She smelled like a Congalala's backside.

Not exactly the way she wanted to meet Ryiel again, but if Tavia was being honest, she didn't expect to ever see Ryiel out in the wilderness. Tavia had found her plenty of times inside Dundorma or small towns, and Tavia often spent too much time searching for her only to find her bent over reports and books. More than twice, Tavia enticed Ryiel out of her bookish den for dinner and drinks.

But Tavia was intentionally dressed up for those occasions. She did her best to seduce the Guild girl who was known for her meticulous reporting, her always tidy appearance. What would Ryiel think of her now?

The leader stepped forward to greet the Guild representative. She traded her small book with a large leather-bound journal from her rucksack and opened to a marked page.

"This is the party of Emil, Royse, and Tavia, led by Marco, correct?" Ryiel asked. Her soft voice sent chills down Tavia's spine.

"That's us, ma'am," the bald leader, Marco, said. "We've got the Glavenus a few miles west from here."

"Already dead?"

"We're putting it down today and hope to deliver the tail to the village chief."

Ryiel consulted her journal again. "'The village of Aquarin requests the removal of one Glavenus endangering the vicinity. Reward requirements include hunting the aforementioned monster and presenting the tail at the village; the hunter, hunting party, or Guild may choose what to do with the corpse,'" she read. "Is someone claiming the body?"

"I am," said the hammer user. "Got a blacksmith willing to make me some new armor if I bring it in."

No one discussed the specifics with Tavia. Thankfully she wasn't shopping for new weapons or armor. She just wanted the money.

Ryiel pulled a pencil from under her cap and made a few marks in the journal. She smiled with satisfaction at Marco. "Excellent. Should I wait here until you're finished?"

"It should be safe enough," Marco said. "We've been trying to push it away from the village so I can't see it doubling back this way."

"I can stay behind if things go wrong," the gunlancer said.

"Emil, come on, you know—"

"I can take care of myself just fine," Ryiel said with a wicked smile. She motioned to the felynes still bouncing in the cart. "Don't worry about us. Focus on your hunt and we'll approach when you're ready to load up."

Marco looked over the party, his apprehension plain on his face.

Tavia knew from experience that Guild representatives weren't pushovers; while some hunters traded the field for paper, other Guild reps were washouts from training, people who couldn't make the leap from greenhorn to officially licensed. Everyone who worked within the Guild had some sort of weapons training.

And Tavia happened to know a bit more about Ryiel's experience than she wanted to share.

"Let's just get it done," the hammer user said. "My feet hurt and I'm ready to soak in a hot bath."

"Seconded," said Tavia. She stood and stretched out her back. "It's probably slept less than we have and it's definitely lost more blood than us. Should be an easy target."

"Alright, alright," Marco sighed. He went towards his tent. "Let's suit up and get moving."

The gunlancer—what was his name, Emil?—was the only one in armor and was already tearing down his tent. The hammer user—her name must have been Royse—jumped up, her green hair now in a single braid, and entered her tent to dress. After Emil rolled up his tent, he offered to collect some firewood for Ryiel, in case the hunt went longer than expected, and disappeared into the forest.

It was just Tavia and Ryiel near the fire.

Tavia's palms itched to reach out and stroke Ryiel's face, but her hands were filthy, blood and dirt caked under her nails. And maybe Ryiel wouldn't appreciate the touch, anyway. They were still new to each other. In Ryiel's own words they weren't official . . . yet.

Ryiel offered a dazzling grin that sent Tavia's heart racing. "I hoped it was you," she said quietly. She kept her distance from Tavia but it wasn't cold, just professional. For a quick moment it looked like she wanted to lean into Tavia—and then she was gone, turning away towards the cart and unhooking the anteka. The felynes crawled off the cart and circled the fire.

"It's good to see you, Ryiel," Tavia said. That was safe enough. "I didn't know you came out on the field."

"I go wherever the Guild needs me. You wouldn't know it by looking, but I actually know my way around the Hinmerun Mountains very well."

"Am I going to hear the story behind that one?" Tavia asked. She loved to listen to Ryiel talk about herself, but Tavia still didn't know where she came from or how she came to the Guild. Tavia had already spilled her simple story; hers was boring, easy. Ryiel made her beginnings seem mysterious.

Ryiel winked, a finger held up in front of her lips. "Maybe one day. You better get dressed for battle first. Happy hunting today."