The underbrush rustled softly as the two Miqo’te navigated the overgrown path. The woman was almost elderly in her advancing age and she struggled with the uneven terrain, making her footsteps more of a shuffling stomp than the cat-quiet tread of her companion. Dappled sunlight made his golden hair shine, dark tipped ears swiveling back to keep track of her labored breathing. Kerr had made no secret of the fact that he thought she should have remained in the village. The packs they carried were heavy and the trip to Gridania took the better part of a full sun. Bethel was beginning to believe he might have been right, but it was too late to be admitting to it now. They had already passed the marker for the half way point. Next time, she told herself sternly as she nearly took a tumble over a branch hidden amongst the weeds. Next time, she would stay home and mind her own business like a woman her age ought.Â
Kerr turned with a look of exasperation on his face that was almost fond. Not that he would ever express such affection for the old woman when she was likely to loose that sharp tongue on him in retaliation. “Do you need to rest?†he inquired with a teasing lilt, wandering back down the incline toward her as she untangled herself from the bramble with a string of foul mouthed words that would have taken a hardened sailor aback.
There was a rustle as she snapped back at him with what he could do with such an idea, low branches giving way to spit a most unexpected creature into their midst. Kerr took a sharp breath at the recognizable uniform, letting fly one of the slender knives from his belt even as the elder Miqo’te spun to face the unanticipated threat behind her. Her short sword cleared its scabbard as the man took the knife to the upper right side of his chest and staggered. She cut his throat without hesitation, the smooth motion sending the man toppling to the ground before he had fully realized that he had inadvertently stumbled upon his own death. Â
“Garleans,†she spat heatedly, leaning to jerk the small throwing knife from the body. She held it out to Kerr as he came to stand beside her and examine the fallen soldier. Where there was one, there would be many more. No fool would travel this close to a hostile city without reinforcements.Â
“We should move,†he told her gravely, his heartbeat quickened by the scare and the thought of more Garleans lurking in the shadows of the Shroud. Abruptly, their leisurely pace had turned into a headlong rush for the safety of city walls.
The blood was cleaned from their blades as they started up the small hill again, sheathing them to move unencumbered through the close press of foliage. He stayed at her back, helping to propel her up the incline, until the game trail disappeared beneath their feet and the whole of the Shroud opened up before them. Kerr took the bow he carried from its place bundled atop his pack, checking to make sure the string remained taunt. Bethel scanned the span of the Shroud that was laid before them, her sharp eyes picking out bits of movement in the melding shades of green as he adjusted his belonging until his quiver was arranged to his liking. With a sharp nod of his head, they set off once more — better prepared for what might lie ahead.Â
Her blood was hot and sticky on his hands. It brought back too many memories that Kerr would have preferred to stay buried. Women could be so fragile. Bethel certainly wasn’t what she might have once been. She sat panting against the thick trunk of an old tree, a stain of red down the side of her tunic and making soft splatters on the ground. The hit she’d taken was serious enough that she likely needed a mage to tend it. Kerr had never dabbled in magic. He preferred more physical pursuits, so field aid was all the old girl was going to get for now. He could manage stitches easily enough if the situation worsened, but it would be incredibly painful on a wound like hers.Â
“You’ll live, for now,†he pronounced at last, lowering her tunic over the fresh dressing. The flow had eased, but red was already seeping through. She’d taken the blade for him and he hadn’t the heart to tell her she hadn’t needed to. Instead, he frowned at her sternly. “That was foolish, Gran. You’re a washwoman and a weaver, not a gladiator challenging the arena in Ul’dah.â€
“There is still fight enough left in these bones, you impertinent kit,†she shot right back, letting a hand hover protectively over her side. He could see it shaking. The pain was written all over her face with every measured breath she took. She looked pale. “Did I ever… thank you…?â€
Hearing that from her lips struck a deeply painful cord, sending Kerr lurching up to his feet to begin gathering up the supplies that had been used to treat her. This was to be a conversation devoutly avoided. With her so badly injured, he set to sorting through their packs, rearranging the most important items into his own. They would have to leave hers behind now. “Bereaved parents don’t usually thank the person who murdered their child,†he pointed out, using the harsh words in hopes of dissuading her from continuing.Â
“Nor do they normally invite them into their homes,†Bethel swiftly returned, arching a brow at him in challenge as his ears flattened uncomfortably. Five cycles past, he’d come to her seeking absolution in death. What he found was a way of atonement — and a place to belong. “As much as wish, every day, for her to still be by my side… Truthfully, she was dead the moment they took her from me. I would never have seen her again — only wondered, living in the agony of never knowing. You… gave both of us peace…â€
“I killed her.â€Â Though it had not been so simple as that one heated statement made it seem. No, he’d tortured that girl, in almost all the ways a person could be. It had been cycles before her tearful pleas for death had moved him to action. Watching her break had wrenched something deep within his soul. He had never been the same after that. His hands would never forget the blood that stained them now. Â
“Mercifully so,†she agreed with a sigh, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the rough bark. “It would have been a cruelty to force her to live like that. I only wish… her children had not had to suffer the same fate.â€Â No matter who begot them, they were her blood; innocent lives born into madness. Would that she had a way to find them…
Kerr never really thought about them, his children. He was unaware of how many offspring the girl had ultimately produced, but two had belonged to him. He had never seen them. Shaking off the sensation of something lost, he tied the packs closed again. “We can’t stay here.â€
The Garleans wouldn’t want news of their mischief to reach Gridania, and they knew any quarry of theirs would run straight for the city-state. The soldiers hunted them through the Shroud now. If the two Miqo’te were to survive, they could not sit still and pray to the Twelve that their deaths would simply pass them by. Kerr found no joy in it, but he had no qualms killing a man. He was not forest born, however. A few years spent climbing trees hardly made him an expert on navigating the Shroud. Bethel had lived all her life here, on the other hand, but she was gravely injured. Even if the Garleans were unfamiliar with the terrain, they outnumbered them by a vast degree. Their avenues of escape were already dwindling.
“I'm not sure if I can…â€
“Save it,†Kerr interrupted carelessly, hoisting the bulky pack onto his shoulders. He made sure his arrows were within easy reach and his bow securely in hand before he returned to kneel beside her. Guiding her arm across his shoulders, he encouraged her to grip the strap of the pack as he prepared to lever her upright. “Hold on to me.â€
Her face blanched as he pulled her up, knees weak as water beneath her weight as her consciousness faltered. Kerr took hold of her belt to keep her standing, dragging her forward into the first step. It was easier after that, with her own momentum to help propel her onward. He would not let her linger here in her weakness to die a slow death from her wounds. He would see the woman to Gridania, even if he had to drag her the entirety of the way.
Kerr turned with a look of exasperation on his face that was almost fond. Not that he would ever express such affection for the old woman when she was likely to loose that sharp tongue on him in retaliation. “Do you need to rest?†he inquired with a teasing lilt, wandering back down the incline toward her as she untangled herself from the bramble with a string of foul mouthed words that would have taken a hardened sailor aback.
There was a rustle as she snapped back at him with what he could do with such an idea, low branches giving way to spit a most unexpected creature into their midst. Kerr took a sharp breath at the recognizable uniform, letting fly one of the slender knives from his belt even as the elder Miqo’te spun to face the unanticipated threat behind her. Her short sword cleared its scabbard as the man took the knife to the upper right side of his chest and staggered. She cut his throat without hesitation, the smooth motion sending the man toppling to the ground before he had fully realized that he had inadvertently stumbled upon his own death. Â
“Garleans,†she spat heatedly, leaning to jerk the small throwing knife from the body. She held it out to Kerr as he came to stand beside her and examine the fallen soldier. Where there was one, there would be many more. No fool would travel this close to a hostile city without reinforcements.Â
“We should move,†he told her gravely, his heartbeat quickened by the scare and the thought of more Garleans lurking in the shadows of the Shroud. Abruptly, their leisurely pace had turned into a headlong rush for the safety of city walls.
The blood was cleaned from their blades as they started up the small hill again, sheathing them to move unencumbered through the close press of foliage. He stayed at her back, helping to propel her up the incline, until the game trail disappeared beneath their feet and the whole of the Shroud opened up before them. Kerr took the bow he carried from its place bundled atop his pack, checking to make sure the string remained taunt. Bethel scanned the span of the Shroud that was laid before them, her sharp eyes picking out bits of movement in the melding shades of green as he adjusted his belonging until his quiver was arranged to his liking. With a sharp nod of his head, they set off once more — better prepared for what might lie ahead.Â
Her blood was hot and sticky on his hands. It brought back too many memories that Kerr would have preferred to stay buried. Women could be so fragile. Bethel certainly wasn’t what she might have once been. She sat panting against the thick trunk of an old tree, a stain of red down the side of her tunic and making soft splatters on the ground. The hit she’d taken was serious enough that she likely needed a mage to tend it. Kerr had never dabbled in magic. He preferred more physical pursuits, so field aid was all the old girl was going to get for now. He could manage stitches easily enough if the situation worsened, but it would be incredibly painful on a wound like hers.Â
“You’ll live, for now,†he pronounced at last, lowering her tunic over the fresh dressing. The flow had eased, but red was already seeping through. She’d taken the blade for him and he hadn’t the heart to tell her she hadn’t needed to. Instead, he frowned at her sternly. “That was foolish, Gran. You’re a washwoman and a weaver, not a gladiator challenging the arena in Ul’dah.â€
“There is still fight enough left in these bones, you impertinent kit,†she shot right back, letting a hand hover protectively over her side. He could see it shaking. The pain was written all over her face with every measured breath she took. She looked pale. “Did I ever… thank you…?â€
Hearing that from her lips struck a deeply painful cord, sending Kerr lurching up to his feet to begin gathering up the supplies that had been used to treat her. This was to be a conversation devoutly avoided. With her so badly injured, he set to sorting through their packs, rearranging the most important items into his own. They would have to leave hers behind now. “Bereaved parents don’t usually thank the person who murdered their child,†he pointed out, using the harsh words in hopes of dissuading her from continuing.Â
“Nor do they normally invite them into their homes,†Bethel swiftly returned, arching a brow at him in challenge as his ears flattened uncomfortably. Five cycles past, he’d come to her seeking absolution in death. What he found was a way of atonement — and a place to belong. “As much as wish, every day, for her to still be by my side… Truthfully, she was dead the moment they took her from me. I would never have seen her again — only wondered, living in the agony of never knowing. You… gave both of us peace…â€
“I killed her.â€Â Though it had not been so simple as that one heated statement made it seem. No, he’d tortured that girl, in almost all the ways a person could be. It had been cycles before her tearful pleas for death had moved him to action. Watching her break had wrenched something deep within his soul. He had never been the same after that. His hands would never forget the blood that stained them now. Â
“Mercifully so,†she agreed with a sigh, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the rough bark. “It would have been a cruelty to force her to live like that. I only wish… her children had not had to suffer the same fate.â€Â No matter who begot them, they were her blood; innocent lives born into madness. Would that she had a way to find them…
Kerr never really thought about them, his children. He was unaware of how many offspring the girl had ultimately produced, but two had belonged to him. He had never seen them. Shaking off the sensation of something lost, he tied the packs closed again. “We can’t stay here.â€
The Garleans wouldn’t want news of their mischief to reach Gridania, and they knew any quarry of theirs would run straight for the city-state. The soldiers hunted them through the Shroud now. If the two Miqo’te were to survive, they could not sit still and pray to the Twelve that their deaths would simply pass them by. Kerr found no joy in it, but he had no qualms killing a man. He was not forest born, however. A few years spent climbing trees hardly made him an expert on navigating the Shroud. Bethel had lived all her life here, on the other hand, but she was gravely injured. Even if the Garleans were unfamiliar with the terrain, they outnumbered them by a vast degree. Their avenues of escape were already dwindling.
“I'm not sure if I can…â€
“Save it,†Kerr interrupted carelessly, hoisting the bulky pack onto his shoulders. He made sure his arrows were within easy reach and his bow securely in hand before he returned to kneel beside her. Guiding her arm across his shoulders, he encouraged her to grip the strap of the pack as he prepared to lever her upright. “Hold on to me.â€
Her face blanched as he pulled her up, knees weak as water beneath her weight as her consciousness faltered. Kerr took hold of her belt to keep her standing, dragging her forward into the first step. It was easier after that, with her own momentum to help propel her onward. He would not let her linger here in her weakness to die a slow death from her wounds. He would see the woman to Gridania, even if he had to drag her the entirety of the way.
