She had long since stopped feeling the icy cold of the damp soil pressing through the fabric of her trousers. The wood was still and silent beneath the pale grey light of dawn, save for the sleepy call of a bird here and there, their voices carried far across the cool, misty shadows.
She shifted a little, her knee sinking a bit further into the mud as she knelt behind a leafless thicket. Her tongue played absently over her teeth, an unconscious gesture, while her vivid, turquoise eyes peered through the trees ahead, towards a small clearing. The graceful curve of her bow was in her left hand, and an arrow that she had fletched herself sat loosely in the fingers of her right.
What am I going to do? I have to find Tara.
Minutes passed. The light of morning swelled, slow and steady, and the first of its sunbeams struck the tops of the trees. The chilled mist began to glow as if each, tiny droplet were illuminated from within.
I miss Hund already...dammit.
A small flicker of movement from the clearing ahead caught her attention. The hand with the arrow twitched reflexively, bringing it closer to the bowstring. She stared until the shape became clear. A brown hare. Perfect.
Why must everyone always want something from me? Why can't people just leave me alone?
The arrow was nocked, and the bow raised with a smooth, easy movement. The hare paused to nibble at a bit of early spring clover.
Gods, I miss him...stupid, feckin'...
Whose fault is that?
Not you again. Shut up.
What did you expect would happen?
SHUT UP.
Oh, sure, tell me to shut up, while you're the one missing a man you don't even belong with.
A low but audible growl rose in her throat. The rabbit's head perked up, its ears erect and trembling. She pressed her lips together, forcing herself back into silence. The arrow drew back, her hand hovering beside her cheek.
Well, I'm not with him now, am I? So there.
But you want to be.
Do not. I could have stayed and I didn't.
You wish you had stayed.
I do not! Gods, will you just be quiet! I'm hunting here.
She exhaled silently through pursed lips. Her eyes peered down the slender shaft of the arrow. The hare twitched its tail once, then relaxed again, and lowered its head.
What about you know who?
What about him? He's long gone. Gone on to die or wander or whatnot. I died in a feckin' field for all he knows or cares and my bones have been picked clean by vultures.
You weren't sad when you asked the farmer's wife about him?
You tell me, feckin' know-it-all inner voice.
...I suppose you're right.
For once.
For once.
The arrow was loosed with a sharp twang of the bowstring. Simultaneously, the rabbit's head shot up and the arrowhead pierced it through the neck. It flopped over, twitching in its last throes of life, which were mercifully brief.
She stood with a grunt, stretching the muscles that had gone stiff during her long crouch, then walked over to claim her lunch.
This is where I belong.
We both know that.
But...
No buts. You think you have what it takes to wander further? This place is all you know.
But it doesn't have to stay that way. Does it?
It would be safer.
She jerked the arrow from the rabbit's body and returned it to her quiver. Lifting her eyes, she looked out over the small meadow, now flooded with clear, golden light.
"Yeah," she murmured aloud. "I know."
