Rolling onto her back, Xen kicked out at the hand wrapped around her ankle, desperation writ clear in the way she squirmed and writhed, seeking a means to escape the elf and his wicked steel. A lucky kick caught the bastard in the balls, and he let go, cursing as he went.

Xen didn't see what killed him; she was fairly certain she didn't want to know.

One moment he had been staggering backwards, pain spreading through his groin from the kick she had dealt him. Not very honourable, granted, but he had made his bed the minute he had decided to aid in her kidnapping. Still. Xen was nearly as surprised as he was when his neck bent sideways, blood jettisoning from a torn artery like so much spilt wine.

She could taste it on her lips as his body began to shake violently, limbs going limp as an unseen force dragged him backwards through the long grass, leaving a bloody trail in its wake.

For some reason, she could still picture the fear in his eyes, even after his body was lost from sight.

Unblinking, Xenovia startled in horror as a scream shattered the night. Scrabbling backwards through the undergrowth, the Deva tried to clamp her ears shut as the screaming crescendoed, sending shivers down her spine. She caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. Vaguely human.

Until it wasn't.

Turning away, Xenovia found Jem staring back at her, ears and eyes uncovered as he watched the events unfolding over her shoulder. Despite being as naked as the day he was born, Xen did not seem to notice his lack of garb, only the vacant look in his gaze. He seemed tired, worn down, somehow. By the pursuit. Or by life. Same difference, she guessed.

That was when something heavy landed in the grass by her side. Neatly-folded, and reeking of blood and excrement.

She about got the gag out of her mouth before her dinner reappeared, though, not in its original state.
 
Jem thought that she could see them for a moment, but when the feline passed between him and Xenovia, there was no interruption in the woman's gaze. So the others had gotten to her. Suppose that was commendable. They were good at making people feel like they belonged.

The one who wasn't Dolt got dragged away, more blood spilled than consumed. Not that it would help them much. Dead blood couldn't be willingly given – one of the many oathbinds. The pursuers would catch up to them soon, unless they got discouraged by the multiplying tracks. Jem wasn't sure which he'd prefer.

The beasts would diminish on their own before anyone could see them. Gallen wouldn't – but there were always more chores elsewhere.

„You should say goodbye to this one.“ He nodded towards the folded flesh. „No one else will get a chance.“

He slumped further, sitting on his feet.

He thought about helping her to standing, but given the state of them both, it was better he stayed away.
 
Funny fucker, Jem. 'A goodbye... for the likes of him?' Smiler. A nickname laced with irony, but the only one she had ever heard insofar as he was concerned. 'Said goodbye to his conscience a long time ago,' the devahni coughed, spittle clinging to her lips, gut doing somersaults whilst she tried to keep the rest of her dinner down. 'Weren't nothin' good about him. And I made my farewells already.'

When I gave his boss and buddies the chomp, thought Xen, grinning, 'cause being alive felt good when your enemies were dead. Well. Most of them, anyway.

Crawling through the grass, the Deva finally managed to slip her bonds, the coarse rope dropping away to decorate the ground behind her. Like the body. Smiler, not smiling anymore. Thinking about him got her stomach churning again. Xen tasted bile in the back of her throat as her gorge rose.

Even in death, the weasel found ways to torment her.

'Didn't think anyone was comin' for me,' she said, after a while spent counting stars. Helped calm her down, and out in the sticks, the skies were clear. No smog or light pollution. Just open air. Freedom writ big. 'Glad you did. Though, my head's killin' me,' she admitted dully, pressing palms to her eyes, wet from all the moisture in the air. Or maybe relief.

'Figures a concussin' trumps a hangover? Either way, could do with a lie down, and you with some clothes.'
 
He looked up to see Xen struggling with vomit. She'd done a good job thus far. He could no longer remember the early ones, but throwing up sounded correct. It's what people do. Perhaps it was just hate. Hate made you proper blind to many things. And it made sense – there wasn't much love lost here.

squinted a bit at her surprise. Guess his appearance made the whole abduction thing a touch less mysterious – but someone was always coming. Jem was just one of the more explainable solutions. Didn't know what to say, though. All words would just make it worse. She was alive and mostly unharmed...'bout as good as these things could go.

„I need...less grass up my ass.“ Seemed strange to worry about such things, but assworry was no different than rainworry. Just another truth of the world.

Clumped more greens into his hand and used them to get some of the more visible blood from his arms.

„Might be best if we don't mention much of this to Vyn.“ Attempted a smile. It needed work. „She worries.“

Bran would bring the two soon. He wondered if he should stick around for that. The others knew he was odd – but they rarely got to see him perform his duties. Hmmm...
 
A nod, proof she was listening. 'Don't we all.' Rubbing some feeling back into her wrists, Xen hugged herself tightly, unable to make sense of just what had saved her, only that Jem was involved. 'Never seen magic quite like that before,' she muttered, nodding some more when Vyn's name came up.

'Aye, I won't. Not sure how I'd explain all this anyhow.'

She knew enough to figure it out for herself, given time. Fear was difficult to hide from those who cared. That Wagonfolk had come after her... Well. Showed they cared, too. Enough to fight for her. Kill, even.

'I worry about her, sometimes,' Xen confessed, not sure what to do or where to look now that the threat had been dealt with. 'Comes with the territory, I s'pose,' a shrug and a smile, used sparingly, so she didn't drive Jem off. 'Can we... um, go back now?' The devahni asked, flashes of the elf being dragged off into the night playing across her mind's eye. 'I don't like it out here.'
 
Jem nodded back. Guess that was what he wanted. Probably should've left her there to wait for the others. But she did sound scared. There probably wasn't any harm in waiting until the others came. Alternatively...

„If you can shift, we can probably get to the others sooner...“ He offered, but she knew that herself well enough. She'd already rejected it before. Jem hadn't met someone who didn't want their primal form before. He just met those like Vyn that didn't yet have it and were anxious and jealous to get it too.

„I don't like it out here either.“ He got up. Perhaps he should've given more specific instructions. Smiley's clothes were too ruined to use...and gods only knew where they dragged the other guy.

„Of course you worry, she's reckless.“ He could probably shift another time. Not too long a run.

„So what's it gonna be, we waiting or heading out to find them?“
 
'I can shift.' Though, will I? Xenovia felt a niggling of doubt worm its way into her skull. Yes, she could shift, and in so doing become her truest self. Fangs, claws, wings and fur. Burning eyes. Lashing tail. The Old Blood running hot through her veins.

Whenever she had shifted in the past, it had been as a means of escape, or in order to fight back.

Smiler's boss, her would-be master, had been the first man she'd ever killed whilst shifted. The first... but not the last. 'They're gone now,' she assured herself, breathing deep the night air in an attempt to calm her racing heart. 'And the darkness hides only friends. I think.' Looking to Jem, she watched him a moment. Naked as his nameday. With grass up his arse, she smirked, though the expression didn't last long with angry ghosts so close to hand.

'I'll walk,' she answered him. 'Maybe nab one of the horses, if'n they'll let me.' Xen shrugged. Least she wouldn't flog the poor beasties to death.
 
He eyed her a good moment. People who kept wrapping themselves in weakness would eventually get themselves hurt or worse. He didn't understand the why of it. But perhaps it wasn't for him to understand.

There may have only been friends in the dark now. But that too should scare people. Wasn't a thought he'd ever voice. Xenovia had enough problems of her own. And she was safe – so the degrees of success didn't matter too much beyond that point.

„Try the horses, then.“ He nodded. „Even if we meet them early, it's some time til camp.“ He remembered her walking on their initial journey back south. Probably messed her feet up for a good couple weeks. This wouldn't be as bad.

Well, he certainly wasn't twolegging it all the way back. Four was already tiring. Two sounded like you liked the pain.

The bones started rebreaking in response. He remembered back when shifting still hurt, now it was just a warm, numb feeling – a dull toothache that never got pleasant, but one you never really felt with enough years. You'd feel it when it was gone. But he was certain he'd go before that ever became a thing.

His hooves moved slowly, and by hoof or foot, he hoped Xenovia could keep pace.
 
Xen hummed. 'Least the bastards had the sense to hang lanterns from their saddles,' she pointed out, staggering down the road after the horses, like a drunk navigating their way to the outhouse. Odds were good she'd reach her destination, assuming the destination didn't run off on her.

She ignored the pale shape lying in the grass as her boots struck dirt. Nearby, a branch groaned and snapped, leaves rustling as the not-quite-there's reduced the elf to an everywhere.

Fortune favoured Xenovia - she did not see the body twitch and come apart. But she recognised the snap of bones, sure as sure, and the squelch of spilt viscera. 'I did not know you could Weave, Jem.' Filling the void with the sound of her voice, Xen held up her hands to the nearest bay, hushing and humming as the longnose turned towards her, still spooked from the goings-on. That makes two of us!

It took her less time than she thought it would to calm the beast. The other horse -Smiler's- had disappeared into the night, and Xen didn't have it in her to go chasing shadows, not after what she'd been through. Swinging up into the saddle, the Deva allowed the elf's horse time to grow accustomed to her weight, cooing softly as she turned it about with a twitch of the reins.

Jem had shifted by then. Horns and hoofs. Less scary than fangs and one's own imagination.

'Lead on!'
 
Weave...was that what he did? Could be. But more than anything, he just remembered things. Some memories were kind, but those weren't the ones he was in charge of. Still, someone had to remember for there anything to be forgotten in the first place. He would have to come back here and make sure all of this was properly forgotten later – but that could wait. The dead were in no rush.

His feet pressed unsteady into the dirt. He hoped their wobble wasn't noticeable under the fluff of ramwool currently enveloping him. It would've been easier if he still shoed his primal, but the iron interacted poorly with certain spirits – and it was better to be capable than comfortable.

Thoughts of Xenovia keeping pace seemed funny now, as he struggled to keep ahead of the horse. Horses did get tired, but he'd underestimated them – or overestimated himself. He should've let the others carry him sooner. There were still many things to do tonight to allow himself to be this worn out.

He couldn't be sure when it came to time, didn't have the mind to count it. But he did count the stomps of hoof and blades of grass trying to tickle up. The rhythm kept up until he could smell the others on the traitorwind. The lesser animals along the way knew to keep aside, as they still remembered the taste of previous passage. It hadn't gotten better with tonight's actions.

Nearly stepped on...was that Lena...as the hill was ready to crest down. She bared fangs and he stomped his feet, not because they would fight, but because some primal habits were harder to break. So they shed both fur and wool, as the size difference shifted. He may have towered over other primals, but back in personflesh, she was a head taller than him. They were both nude and dirty, but neither was bothered. Shame was a rare currency for anyone serving the Nightline. They just looked over each other's shoulder instead.

„She alright?“ Lena was still panting, toes crumpling up the grass and head twitching at the noise. She'd probably get better at that with years.

„Hit in the head.“ He still remembered how Gordar kept him awake for two full nights after he got bricked in the temple all those years back. Gods he hated him back then.

Lena nodded as she stepped beyond him. „The others have my clothes and horse. Might have something for you too.“

„Who did Bran bring?“ Jem asked, realizing he could no longer tell by scent alone. That was...troubling.

„Barret.“ She said without stopping as she went for Xenovia.

He nodded and made his way down to join the other two. Perhaps his watch was done for the moment.

„You sure you should be riding with a face full of makeup?“ Lena looked up at Xenovia, rubbing at her shoulders. She hoped the other two got a move on. It was cold as shit.
 
The bounty hunter's horse did not seem to notice its master was gone, and if it did, then it did not mind. 'Soon be home.' Xen promised her newfound friend. Guided by Jem, sometimes guiding, Xen let the blood bay pick his own path through the moonlit gloom. Safer than forcing him to go where he did not want to. Mostly, backwards.

Only death lay that way, and Xen had witnessed enough to last her a lifetime.

Jem led the way, though more often than not Xenovia found herself riding level with the Primal. Even shifted, she could sense his weariness. Around the eyes. In each laborious breath he took. Thick wool could not hide the way his hind hooves dragged through the dirt. Even half-blind, she could see how much the hunt had demanded of him.

Gratitude mixed with guilt. A head made heavier by the thoughts running through it.

Time passed slothlike, slowing to accommodate their return. A stagnant wind carried the stench of deadwood and rotting leaves. Firebugs flitted and swam figure eights through the dark. Brush rustled and stilled. Before she knew it, they were no longer alone.

Thank the Eight!

Xen did not know Lena all that well, but that didn't mean she wasn't happy to see her. They prowled the Nightline together, after all. Had shared words and a wineskin, once or twice. Like most Elum, she was of the good sort.

Bad sort weren't welcome inside the camp. Smiler and the elf had found that out the hard way.

Best not to think about it. 'I'm sure I prefer riding to walking, given the circumstances.' Forcing a grin, Xen dabbed at her temple with the cuff of her sleeve, winced. 'Whether I should be riding... I'm not entirely sure, no. Feelin' a little woozy, t' tell you the truth!'

Eyelids that closed themselves. A thumping headache reminiscent of a night spent propping up the bar. Nothing a long nap wouldn't fix.

'Want me to get up-... uh, down? Or you could come up? Ride some, maybe.'
 
„Sure, keep at the saddle. Just don't bop off.“ Jem had left Xenovia in her charge, sort of. Wouldn't be a good look if she tried faceplanting to the ground first thing on Lena's watch. Come to think of it...what was he doing here anyway? It wasn't his turn to mind the Line. Was it because of Vyn? That relationship never made sense to Lena. Two sometimes seemed like siblings, sometimes like father and child...and there were days there was even gossip they were lovers. Still, he was known for putting her interests ahead of the others. Wasn't a very Elum thing to do. But Gordar trusted him – so he was trusted.

The offer got a raised eyebrow, but she doubted the other woman could see much with her face looking like a bruised orange. „I'm underdressed to mess around with horses.“ She pointed behind her. „The others aren't too far behind. Maybe one of 'em can help with riding lessons.“ She spared a short smile to avoid her teeth clattering.

„Come on, down the hill and they should find us before we fully descend.“ She wondered why the other woman hadn't shifted. Perhaps she didn't yet have one, like Vyn.


Below​


„You brought Barret?“ Jem sounded uncertain.

„It was the boy's turn.“ Bran nodded as he watched the youth draw closer with the horses. „He did well.“

Jem returned the nod.

„Youth actually picked up some tracks faster than I did. Come to think of it....where are the others?“

„Just me.“

„Have it your way, Manyleg...“ Thought interrupted by Jem grabbing his wrist hard enough to cause a wince. Neither spoke for a second, and the grip loosened, lessened.

They both needed their calm faces on for the cubs.
 
'Don't intend to.' Of course, that wasn't to say she wouldn't. Gravity had an irresistible pull to it. Sometimes, one's best efforts simply did not suffice. At least if she fell, it would be straight into Lena's arms. There were worse places to end up, surely.

'Right. Yeah.' Even with an eyeful of bright, Xen wasn't entirely blind.

'Might be some clothes y'can borrow in the saddlebags, if'n your feelin' the pinch.' Chattering teeth. Hands in armpits. A bit of locomotion to keep from freezing in place. Xen had been there, done that, though not as often as she would have preferred. Damned laws and regulations. Shroudships and lightning rods were fine, but a lone devahni aching to spread her wings? Out of the question!

Thinking of Crown's Hold left Xen with more than a subtle ache in her chest. Longing and melancholy were good neighbours, at least in her mind. 'Wonder what's got those two holding hands?' The Deva nodded towards where Jem and another Liner, Bran, stood watching them approach. Stolid as tombstones. And just as charismatic.

Still. Hadn't kept them from stumbling through the dark after her. For her.

Xen sighed as she spotted more figures off in the distance. Revealed by lanternlight. Two legs and four. Men and mounts.

'I really mucked things up, didn't I?'
 
„No offense, but you're a bit bigger than me.“ Lena pulled her hands out of her pits to wave them around the tits and the hips and the musclebits. Wasn't sure what they fed the deva up north, but it was definitely good stuff. Perhaps she'd have to work less if she was bigger. People would just get the message without needing to fight. Useful stuff.

Regret came in step with the chill and she quickly stuffed her fingers back. At least the other woman didn't play potato with the dirt. Small victories.

Lena clocked Jem grabbing Bran's hand...and more importantly Bran not correcting him on it. There were days she thought those two liked each other. Wasn't so sure today. But that was none of her business.

„Trying to keep warm, seems like.“ As she waved Barret over, the boy already pulling her clothes out of the saddlebags. Eight bless 'im – she was in no mood to play weathervane.

„Yea...real inconsiderate of you to get bagged like that.“ Voice struggled with the right note and keeping from biting her own tongue. „Coulda picked a warmer night.“

She crossed her right ring and index before thumbtapping them twice, Jem and Bran nodded, pulling closer. She nodded at Xenovia, moving away. „Gotta get my stuff.“

When the two came closer, Bran was the first to speak:

„Hour-half to the camp, maybe two in your condition. Got it in you...“ And he grinned like it was the funniest shit all year. „Or should we arrange to have you carried?“

Jem's cheeks pulled up in a smile as he tucked elbows further into the borrowed clothes, sleeves too short to do a good job.
 
Xen wasn't sure if Lena was trying to be funny, or whether it was the awkwardness with which she spoke that made her grin. 'I'll keep that in mind... next time,' the devahni promised, wiggling her pinkie finger. She was still getting accustomed to the hand signals the other Liners used, on the odd occasion where it didn't pay to use words.

She recognised when folk were trying to make light of a bad situation, though. Had done so herself, once or thrice.

'Guess we'll... find out,' she smiled down at Bran. From up in the saddle, everything looked smaller than it actually was. Shorter, in Jem's case. Still. The smile he wore was the biggest she had ever seen. Probably a bad thing.

'Head's spinnin' like someone bashed a keg over it,' she blinked, wiping at her brow with the back of her hand. Sweaty despite the cold. 'Reckon I can manage an hour... half, I mean. So long as I get to take a nap after.'

Didn't feel up to much else. Not even talking.
 
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