My own involuntary yawn wakes me from my slumber. My lids squint open, exposing my eyes to the day Sun. What time is it? I cannot tell with the sunlight flashing directly onto my face and slowly searing my skin. I rise with exhaustion with some of my bones complaining, probably to the discomfort my body sustained the whole night laying upon the flat ground despite the fabric existing between me and the soil.
The bonfire has succumbed to its own burnt ashes along with what was once Kyla's garments overnight, yet the smell of last night's meal still lingers from the pot — or the soup, rather. The man… Where is he? He's nowhere in my vicinity, probably fetching some fish again in the river, so I don't even bother looking for him.
I sleepily stand to my feet then arc my back stretching my arms upwards to remove some of the disturbed nerves and bones obtained over the hours of my sleep, and snaps and cracks release. I walk to the nearby river to give my face a good rinse, and also remove remnants of sleepiness lingering in my eyes. A few more stretches and I proceed to do some push-ups. All the recent events pretty much disrupted my physical routines — pretty much my entire life, to be exact. And now, I'm being hunted down by the most powerful soldiers in the world.
After an uncounted number of said push-ups, I take Kyla's sword with me and amble toward a nearby tree. I sigh, releasing some physical tension within my body as I form a stance, sword hovered. Judging by the slice marks this old-looking tree has surely scared away those that used to live in it.
On the first strikes, I add more dents to the bark, some of its loose shells that look like rotten carapace even shredding off. Every single bit of splinter flying has my brain rewinding every single second of what occurred in the desert, and the image of that Hellion's skin murdering my comrades. Sarah… Jameson… Jaden… Philbert… Alek… Each of their deaths is engraved in the core of my memory forever.
'Your fault… You could've done better…' The moments repeat and repeat and repeat, having my blood begin to boil as it surges to every corner of my body.
"It's your fault!" I scream, my eyes upon the sword that is impaled through the thick bark, halfway into cutting the entire tree off. The blade sizzles furiously in burning purple. I feel the intensity of it matching the amount of rage I have right now.
I trail my gaze to my hand, the same color radiating to the tips of my fingers from my wrist. Tears are barely falling from my eyes, my lids unable to suppress them any longer when I find Alek's ring around my annulary. With attempts to hold them, I shut my eyes, only to have the opposite happen instead. My depressive emotions are spilling much worse.
'It's my fault…' Those words repeat themselves again and again in my head. They keep haunting me. 'It's my fault…' If only I could go back, I would've let any of it not happen. Alek would still be alive and give Alice the ring himself. His friends would still be okay. I would still be okay. He's gone… and he's never coming back…
The emotional turmoil of releasing tears subsides later when I'm stable enough to yank the sword out of the bark, the hideous sizzling effect depleting in my grasp. I'm only more emotionally exhausted than physically, so I return to camp and decide to give myself a good rinse on the river.
Just as I'm to remove my garments, the man arrives with some chunky coneys in his hold. "We leave in an hour."
I only stare, a little freaked upon seeing their decapitated state.
"They don't serve this at the Barrier?" The man adds, seemingly having sensed my revulsion.
"They're endangered," I say, voice raspy from weeping as I continue to strip. "They stopped hunting those a few years ago." Perhaps being too rogue has him become less unaware of things as such. He then proceeds to the bonfire anyway to start working on them. Too late now.
"Kalvar does," He counters. Maybe being too human has made me become less aware of things. Or it's just that Kalvar is too conservative and self-reliant to let themselves be influenced by the other Regions. "What do you eat?"
"I usually skip," I say as I dip into the low depths and begin washing.
He gives no more utterances, yet I still feel his eyes on me. I stay in the calmly flowing waters for a while, making sure I am clean enough and fresh for our later departure. After that, I take the time to dry myself before making myself again comfortable in the same garments.
At the same time I'm finished, the man is strolling to the waters with the now pinkish, headless, and clean coney meats in hand. Their shed furs litter around and it seems that it had taken too fast for him to take them all off. Regardless, they look neatly done. Come to think of it, is that what he did the entire night? That could be pretty boring if it was me. Though, I can't say that he did either. Again, he's a rogue.
"I'm gonna gather some fruits," I say, even though there are still some that he collected last night. What else can I do at the moment? Besides, walking around should be able to help me decrease the remnants of the earlier emotions. I make sure I recognize the path I'm walking on so I'm able to return to camp once I'm done with collecting sustenance.
I've only been able to collect a small amount — the ones that are familiar enough instead of those that I know nothing of and might only turn out to have my guts poisoned and kill me. Unfortunately, that's most of what I'm encountering so far. Papayas and green mangoes would be really nice, but I fully doubt this forestry has them.
For a while, I only manage to collect just enough known floral berries in my possession and decide to finally return to camp. At least I won't be returning empty-handed, though I can't say this solo trip has cleansed the remnants of the earlier emotions.
I have the blade leaning against a tree yet I'm not able to grab it when it is yanked up to the tree. I follow its skyrocketing speed to see it end in the grasp of a figure sitting on the tree's branch. Cloaked, and helmeted with an animal's dry skull.
Outcast, I almost mutter, and that ignites my heels into a run back to the camp's direction. I get a quick glimpse of the person matching my speed and gaining closer pursuit from up the trees, telling me that I won't be able to lose them at this point. I'm worried about seeing that rising white smoke in our camp's direction. The man must also be in the same situation. I run faster, almost there, having to leap over shrubs and pivot around narrow gaps.
Upon arrival, I sink my feet into the dried soil to halt, giving myself a second window to comprehend the man's situation with two other outcasts. A canister mere feet away is presently emitting white smoke. And that's it.
As I abruptly come to a complete stop, I find the outcast pursuing me already plummeting from the high branches with a dagger, and I am quick enough to leap out of the way. The way the person's feet make contact on the ground is like a feather's weight then follows constant swift maneuvers like a natural sword user — many outcasts are. I evade and evade until the man suddenly intervenes with nothing but his bare hands. I'm not surprised that he managed to knock out the two others he was against.
Not even a second is provided for me to think about what to do next as I drop to my soles after obtaining a closing whirring sound. The tree to my left is hugged with bolas. I dart back to my other flank to have those who owned them already on display with sharp weapons in hand. Of course, I show no fear. Why would I even? Again, this is nothing compared to almost getting eaten by a new hellion. Or taking on three Ordinals and a hundred soldiers.
I make my first move, succeedingly outmaneuvering them and knocking them to join the others. I turn my gaze to see the man taking on three more instead. I'm about to come to give him a hand until I hear approaching heavy stomps, certainly of a single creature. It's either a Rhineigh or some other wild creature.
The gun. Where is it? I zigzag my gaze in search of the object and I find its peaking muzzle under the bed sheet I laid on, untouched. I waste no time bolting toward it, having to again prevail against more of the enemy. As far as I could count, there are seven of them, and about to become more with that still-approaching sound. My fingers succeed in taking the long-ranged weapon and unhesitantly aim to shoot, and it only becomes too late when I'm rolling on the dirt. My back aches for a while, not to the impact I received from the rampaging beast but to the impact of my fall. I find the weapon no longer in my grasp but in my former spot, crushed beyond repair by the beast's stomps.
Kyla's sword, still locked in its scabbard, suddenly appears to slide to a stop on the ground before me. The man was able to retrieve it from that outcast's possession. I spare no second to grab it. Before the second the mounted outcasts are only a few meters from running over again, my oddly fast sight somehow gets a clean comprehension of the straps around the rampaging creature. And not just that, but also its whole body smothered in fresh cuts and aged scars upon its barely hairy skin and leather-sealed muzzle. That makes a sense of pity kick in me.
My decision pivots and I move forward to the beast's approaching figure. I succeed in sliding under the wide gaps of its legs where I cut the straps tightly locking around its body. That harshly unmounts its rider lying on the ground in exchange for the beast becoming uncontrolled of its rampage. With attempts to tame the Lion-boar into relaxing, I'm only even more taken aback by the look on its half-blind face. That denies me to react, and I'm, instead, thrown to a tree. The adrenaline, however, keeps me stable and my eyes rest on the man, also attempting to approach the beast while also keeping his guard up against the enemies.
I did not predict this would happen, but it's too late to complain now. The raw smell of animal flesh crawls into my nostrils, drawing my eyes to where it is coming from. The coney meats appear on display yards from me, half-coated with dirt and moss and the quick idea comes for me to use them. I manage to keep myself off of another enemy as I retrieve them before whistling to catch the carnivore's attention.
Its double pair of ears perk in curiosity before turning its attention to me, nose twitching as it whiffs up high, then again weighing its half-blind gaze. I take small steps back as it approaches at the same pace, yet unable to reach another step closer as it makes a muffled roar in agony. Up the trees is the responsible enemy, armed with a bow who fired the arrow at the animal's flank.
I'm again yanked out of my position by the man on the ground, just in time before the beast pounces on me. The poor Lion-boar persists raging uncontrollably smashing along the trees, unbelievably to the point of cutting them down.
The man and I remain still, his arms around my body as if he's using his bigger frame to shield me. My eyes are shut, but still, a familiar colored glow sneaks through my lids, and my ears only hear the now muffled sounds. It lasts no longer than a minute or two until everything is silent, then I extricate myself to see the catastrophic aftermath that's left. Half of our stuff is no longer seen, if not simply scattered and just ruined. A number of fallen trees are everywhere as if a storm swept half of our vicinity, but it's just the beast who is now less rageful in the distance.
The first thing that urges me to do is approach it with an assuring feeling that I won't be harmed. I still have the coney meats in my hand, and my instincts trust that it should be enough for it to consider me as a non-threat — unlike how these outcasts gave it mistreatment.
"That's dangerous," I hear the man speak, but I shush him.
"I can handle it," I suggest, then plea, "Round the outcasts up,"
He gives no other utterance and I continue to proceed closer where I begin to hear the Lion-boar's mewling. I sense the persisting torture the fresh wounds and the restraint around its muzzle. The latter is what I aim to aid first. Upon making eye contact with me, its furs and ears rise tauntingly, then drop its head low with a heavy growl.
I hold my tracks and avoid its gaze. I sure don't know how to tame a wild creature that I have not ever encountered before. Nor had the training and be qualified to do so. Not like these exist in the armies as military properties at all. I'm only relying on my instincts at this point.
I hover the carvery high with a foreboding tremble, but also hoping for the beast to sense the offering and non-malignant intent. The feeling of its snoot barely inching close to my hand gives me the signal for my other hand to reach for the locks around the muzzle. Its hesitation returns but it's only quick and finally concludes to offer its trust. I can't believe it. I'm actually taming a lion-boar.
I'm then given access to unclip the locks of the leathers constricting the predator's muzzle and it automatically drops to the ground, then again, slowly offering the clump of meat on the ground. My hands remain raised as I make a backward ambling to give extra room, though I cannot help but smile a little with the prominent relief coming along the beast's heaving ribs. That constraint must've deprived it of so much air.
"You tamed her," I hear the man from behind.
I turn to him with a questioning look. "Her?"
"The ears," He says, figuring out my questioning look. "Males have only a pair. They don't."
I nod understandingly, then my shoulders jump when I feel sniffs smothering me. But I somehow sense no more aggressiveness, only curiosity. My hands lay on her soft fur, feeling the threatening presence no more. It's all just calmness… and innocence.
"How did you do it?" The man asks.
"I don't know," I say, constantly rubbing the Lion-boar. "I just gave the coneys—"
"The shield, I mean."
I turn to him again, parsing what he's saying. "What—" But he doesn't need to clarify when my brain kicks back a few minutes to when we lay on the ground. I only happen to register the recent moments right now. The muffled noise. The shine that my shut eyes captured—surely purple. A shield…?
How should I answer him? How do I answer him? It leaves me disquieted with what reaction I'll get if I disclose what's making me be on the run from the Ordinals. However, giving him the answer would still be nothing compared to him saving me thrice.
I part my lips, ready to answer him with all the unsure explanation possible, but then the beast lounges in his direction. Not with the purpose of attacking him, but the armed outcast who is just about to sneak a stab. A manly scream abrupt within the person's animal skull-masked face as I see their leg receive a bite. Luckily, the beast doesn't decide to tear it off.
"We better get out of here," I say, and the man agrees after a small gap of pause, not so seemingly disappointed with the interruption.
We collect the remaining useful things on sight, mostly, simply remaining dirtied fabric sheets and clothes. Everything else is beyond any use. And we leave, with me trailing behind the man. I keep my eyes wary in every direction for the next half an hour just in case we're being followed. We might've accidentally dwelled on unwelcoming territories hence why we were ambushed. But so far, nothing. It's almost relieving already, until my eyes notice the furry figure of the same beast, at a coy distance behind us.
It urges me to interrupt our hike and wait for quite a while. The man doesn't seem to complain, but it might be because he's been aware of it following us all this time.
"We can take a break here," He notifies. "I'll get some ration."
Noon is a couple of hours away and now, I'm treating the lion-boar's wounds that are still fresh from all the restraints she has. She didn't look so bothered with them until I began applying treatment, jolting a little as I gently brushed the crushed herbs in my hand along the cuts and scratches on her skin. I'm lucky enough to have tamed her easily. Other than that, she's able to still follow us.
"We need bandages," I say as I see the man has just returned, cleaning his new hunt. "A lot of it."
"Then, we should go so we can get to a municipality soon," He says as he drops the fetches in front of the beast's mouth, and she patiently consumes them.
"How far exactly till we reach one?" I ask.
"Close enough," He says.
"How can you know without a map?" I say, curiously.
"I don't need one."
"Familiarized yourself with Otima's region?" I want a more precise answer. "Is that even possible?"
He merely leaves me hanging, absent of any sort of aura as a hidden reaction — unless he might be upset that I brought the trouble earlier. Or, maybe, he's just giving the same impression of his stubbornness. What else can I do? I'll be stuck with him for a while. And I hate that I'm starting to admit that my survivability is leaning more onto him, with the fact that he saved me twice and aided my wounds. No, it's thrice now, counting the earlier encounter. Ironically, it occurred to a soldier who spent twelve years in a sophisticated academy and who happens to possess an out-worldly power.
I gaze at my surroundings, remembering we're still secluded in this forestry, and I can tell at this point how vast it is. It seems endless. I only realize my complaining stomach when it's starting to burn through my stomach.
"Look, I—" I begin again while I finish treating the beast's cuts. "I didn't expect what happened back there—"
"Neither did I," He cuts me as he dices the fruits he brought along upon return. "I was supposed to come after you the moment I sensed them. But they attacked with that smoke, and it blocked my nose and ears. I won't be able to have them for a while."
I mean to be apologetic at the moment, but he doesn't seem to realize it and is rather, the one being so. Being relieved would only make me look too prideful, yet my humility is all but mocked. How am I supposed to engage further?
"I can help you hunt from now on," I offer. "Now, that we'll probably need more for this fella." I refer to the beast.
"That's a lion-boar you're talking about. They can hunt for their own prey," He says.
I'm silent for a second with the realization of both points. "Right," I say, then resting my gaze on the creature behind me, who's now licking her wounds before looking back ahead.
"After that, how long are we planning to keep her with us?" The man asks candidly, approaching with a fat leaf filled with the fruits he diced and handing them to me. He must've sensed my hunger.
"Probably, for a while," I say with certainty as I receive it. "Seems to have grown attached." I thought it'd be more complicated to tame a supposed insatiable predator than it was. I only meant to set it free as it is supposed to be, but I'm not complaining anyway. It's nice to have an extra companion, now that there are obviously more threats to encounter along the way. And I'll have another to be accommodated with than this man's stubbornness.
"Well, you know we can't keep her around." He says. "We're flying to the west as you said."
I merely give a disappointed gaze at the beast. Great. That, too.