Hunter and Hunted (Closed to Philomel)

[The Huntsman]

Well, the ship had stopped rocking so much. So we had landed. I itched, my blood boiled. I needed to get out, I needed to Hunt. I needed to get out of the ship. This was infuriating, there was a beast that needed to be slain, and yet that hateful, stupid woman was prolonging it, furthering the risk to her daughter. At some point Radford had left me - we'd landed, and he shot off. I couldn't blame him - I wanted to too.

The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall made me blink, tensing up. This was a different set of footsteps, a boot tread that I did not know. Which meant - what. I saw a figure moving very swiftly, flashing past the bars before I could make out who or what it was - and then there was the sound of rattling at the cell door, and it was thrown open, the force making the door bounce off the wall. It was a man. The first I had seen since Philomel and I left the tavern before.

“You.” His voice was rough, thick. “You can track? Track her? And kill that thing?” I blinked, and slowly nodded. Light blue eyes pierced at mine as the man's lips formed a line. “Hmm,” he grunted and then wildly gestured at the manacles at my hands.

“Lift them.”

I slowly lifted my hands up into the air. What on earth - who was this, and what was going on? Was I about to be freed? Was I about to be put on the Hunt?

“The deal is you track, find and possibly help us kill it. In all honesty the Princess could do the killing by herself but,” he shrugged, and looked right at me. “Two thousand gold. Do you accept?”

“You wish me to Hunt. Of course I accept.” I could pretty much care less about the money, they wished me to hunt. I surged to my feet, lifting my hands as much as I could. My body hummed in anticipation. I just hoped this was in time to save the girl.

The other man leant forwards and produced a small key that looked ridiculous in his massive hands. He worked it into the manacles and they fell free.

“Context, I am Vaeron. The kid is my idiot daughter as well, biologically speaking. That is the last time you mention fatherhood to me.” He threw the manacles to the ground. “Ready to go now?” he said without another pause. I rubbed my wrist and started walking.

“I'm just missing my weapon now.” I could, theoretically, fight with just my spikes, but it would be far better if I had the Saw-Spear.

“Up,” Vaeron pointed. “It’s on the jetty.” I nodded and headed up the stairs, back along the route that I had come down, what, was it weeks ago? Up we went, the - father? - behind me. Huh. Well, the girl had to have one. Why not this man?

I blinked as I emerged into the sunlight, and pushed my glasses back up my nose, cutting the light down. There, my weapon. I ignored the other things for a moment moving swiftly. My hand closed around the handle, and I felt more complete. This was better. I swept my weapon, now returned to me, back, and tucked it onto my holster.

Now I looked around. And paused. Philomel looked upset - and was not looking at me directly. The fox was next to her, on her shoulder actually, and the damn thing was smiling. But -

That. Was. A. Dragon. I froze. Staring. I felt my brain stutter, trying to comprehend this. There was a thirty foot dragon staring back at me, watching me intently. No one else seemed to care but -

That. Was. A. Damn. Dragon.

[Philomel]

Khaki green and dirt brown at his basic, golden and emerald at his highlights, Delath hummed a note of amusement at the reaction of the drow before him. His tail twitched with a picture of excitement and he opened his jaw to show many fine, long teeth. His glorious green eyes glowed with a light of eagerness, and he began to rise off his haunches when.

“Delath. Not now.”

The wingless, but not in any way harmless, dragon swung his massive head over to the faun. She was staring at him, brow low, clear irritation in her voice. For a moment the huge beast and the, in comparison, squishy faun stared at one another before he huffed and settled back into his haunches. Spinning his head back around to the Huntsman, Delath grumbled.

A low voice rumbled from his reptilian throat. “Boring.”

“You,” the faun shoved a finger at the Huntsman's chest, her eyes only briefly touching his. “Don't even try to be tempted to hunt him.” She paused. “He'll win.”

“For now. But - oh, that will be a hunt to remember.” The Huntsman never once removed his eyes from Delath. Finally his gaze switched to Philomel, not that she him could see clearly behind his glasses, but he did turn his head in her direction. “But you did not release me to tease me with a hunt of the future.”

“You hunt him and she will kill you,” Vaeron's voice came from behind him, heading over towards a massive, black horse who was casually feeding by the dragon. He shoved a thumb at Philomel.

The faun raised a brow at Vaeron before shrugging before she strode to go behind Delath's tail. Leaning down she picked up a massive saddle. “That is quite true. Even Veridian will help, and apparently he likes you.”

I think you like him more than I do! She threw a glare to the fox.

“I am fairly certain that you already know I do not just attack at my own leisure. This fine specimen - though. You have been changed. Hm. In any case. I doubt anyone will seek me to hunt him. A shame - that would have been a battle to remember.” He shook his head, then slipped his mask up into place before looking to Philomel. “So, good Priestess. Where does the trail you know, end?”

Philomel had clambered up Delath's leg and was now throwing the saddle over. “Half a days ride around the mountain. Vaeron has been there already,” she nodded up at the background landscape, where a huge monolith of a hill dominated. She grabbed one of the girth straps and began to tug. Delath grumbled but moved to assist. The dragon’s great eyes still fixed back on the Huntsman and he lifted his upper lip in a subtle, challenging growl.

Philomel pulled on the straps a last time before nodding and clambering into the saddle. She checked her armour and arranged her swords, letting out a slow, long breath. The purpose was to save Celandine. The mission was to track, find and kill a medusa. That meant accepting that a creature she regarded as an (well, now, not completely - his arguments had been strong) abomination but good and noble in heart, needed to be accepted temporarily into her life. Her jaw tightened, then she threw her glare to him. It changed slightly into a more stressed but accepting look.

“Get on,” she said. “… Please.”

[The Huntsman]

She wanted me to -ride- the dragon. The damn. Dragon. Who the hell was this woman that she had a dragon that let her fucking ride it? Sweet night. I ignored the challenge from the dragon for now - I knew I was nowhere near ready to face such a being, and this one was not a beast or my prey. I tensed, and jumped up, grabbing onto one of the thin straps of leather that were on the side. I swung up and into the saddle behind the faun, bracing myself a bit. She was tense - and ready to snap at a moment.

So I learned back and away from her - thin leather straps and my leg strength would hold me in place hopefully. She shot me a glance over her shoulder. I nodded. “Delath. Let's go.” The fucking dragon - this would take a while to get used to, she had a fucking dragon - began to move, shifting and sliding as he took off. The streets of this place had clearly been designed for the dragon to move through with ease - wide, cleared of obstructions.

It was - an experience to ride the dragon. The saddle shifted in ways that a horse’s would not. It was nearly sending me about like a doll in a child’s hands, and only an intense grip on the leather straps prevented me from sliding forward into the faun sitting ahead of me. I had a feeling I might be dragon chow if I did touch her right now - she still thought I was a monster, judging by the glares gave me from time to time. That-well I couldn't say it was fine. I'd had enough of people looking at me like that because of my eyes, I didn't need it from her too.
The bastard dragon had to know what he did. There was a slight twist to his gait, a bucking from his rear legs - and I was flung forward. His movements had smoothed out before this, so I had foolishly let my grip relax - and I was only prevented from being flung off by wrapping a hand around Philomel. I immediately moved back, cursing inwardly.

Delath did not make any movement or noise, but there was the obvious tension that appeared in Philomel's body. She slightly, very slightly turned her head to eye back at me, but that was mainly interrupted by the most obvious reaction. Golden eyes attached to a russet red face appeared and looked curiously at me, blinking and then giving a wide grin. He held that pose until he disappeared again, and Philomel's gaze had already moved away.

Why - alright now just why had the fox been grinning at me? Did he know something I did not? I detested being left in the dark when it seemed to so clearly involve me. But - I had no way of asking him, not one that would not involve the irritated faun. So instead of asking, I looped my hands through the straps of leather - I was not about to let the damn dragon push me into an untenable situation, not when there was a Hunt and a child needing rescue. Instead - I had to talk. Something to distract her from this angry silence.

“So - Philomel.” She didn't like being called priestess. “Your daughter. Tell me about her?” The more you knew about the girl, the better I would be able to track her. A six year old could move a lot shorter distance than a fourteen year old could.

Philomel was silent for a moment. Then when she answered her voice was soft, like she liked talking about her kid. “Celandine is five, but she learns fast. She has a gift for it. She's a faun too, born out of a plan - Vaeron and I are not together, never have been to give the context.” She bent a little lower over her dragon. “She has a tera’k mount also she should have gone with.”

So. A young child, which would normally have reduced the distance that she could have possibly roamed. However, she has a mount, which would would increase the range considerably. Thankfully the musk oxen would avoid most sources of danger - and even more thankfully, a tera’k would leave a decent trail. Except - sweet mercy. That trail wouldn't just be one I could follow - the Medusa, or gorgon, would be able to follow it too. I narrowed my eyes.

“We will find her, I assure you, Philomel.” I just hoped it was in time.

[Philomel]

Delath skidded to a halt, throwing his riders forwards. Pulling up sharply in front of them the huge black stallion of Vaeron's - Megladon, born to run with dragons - halted the run. His eyes flickered up to hers and she nodded. Half twisting around to the Huntsman she latched a gaze onto him, one filled with worry.

“This is where she was tracked to. Further up the mountain they say lies the realm of the medusa or gorgon we are after. Three days ago my goddess, Drys, told me that Celandine's time was running out.” She paused and looked suddenly desperate. “Can you do it from here?”

The Huntsman leapt down from Delath’s back, his knees flexing as he hit the ground. His attention was wholly on the surroundings. They were near the treeline, on the edge of a trail. He gave a short, sharp nod, the only sign that he had heard Philomel. Watching him, she could see that his body became almost impossibly still, the only movements coming from his breathing, and the deliberate movements. No swaying, no unnecessary motion - just purpose. His head twisted around, scanning the area, then he crouched down and slowly began walking in a half-bent walk. It was actually a bit ridiculous to see, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

His hands removed his gloves, revealing that the skin there was a lighter shade of black, more heavily tinted by purple than his face and head. His palms and fingers skimmed the ground as he moved along the trail, just barely touching the surface of the ground. Almost a dozen yards away from where Delath had stopped, he paused, his head craning upwards to peer at the trees. Slow, steady movements brought him to the brush - and he lifted up broken branches. It was impossible to tell his expression at this point - but when he stood up, still holding the twigs and branches in his hand, Philomel felt a stirring in her heart.

“This way.” Cold, crisp words. Without waiting to see if they followed him, the Huntsman headed into the trees, his head on a pivot as he disappeared through the treeline.

Philomel did not break off her fascinated gaze, where her lips had been parted and her eyes wide. Slipping off Delath's back entirely she gave him a light pat, but her eyes, filled with wonder kept on the Huntsman. “Darling, I think it best if you follow below,” she murmured.

There was a small snort from the dragon but he grunted before bumping her hand with his shoulder and tilting away. Veridian leapt off his back onto her shoulders as the huge mammoth of an animal twisted and took a few large paces back to the way they had come. For a moment he pawed at the ground before suddenly opening his massive jaws and -

Digging, actually gnawing at the earth. There was the sound of rocks splintering and whole tree roots snapping as the beast literally ate his way into the soil, becoming one with nature as his life had always intended. Within seconds he had gone, leaving naught but a shaking feeling and a pile of dirt like an enormous molehill.

Yet still Philomel focused on the Huntsman. She nodded and started after him, her hooves going as swift as she could, head angled high. She strode and as she did she pulled out nothing but her plynt dagger. There was a pause as wordless and stunned Vaeron found himself confused by her reaction to the tracker, but he sighed and shook the reins on Megladon. The great horse snorted and they became the last in the party.

Philomel shoved her senses into the earth, making her aware of her general surroundings. She latched onto the three major impacts on the earth around them - herself, the Huntsman and Megladon and kept stalking. Before her the Huntsman with no name but his title kept on into the foliage. Every movement of his was deliberate, every hesitation calculated. Yet still he was swift. Her heart thudded as she saw in this man a warrior and a true heart, someone that in another life she would be best friends with. She became acutely aware in those few long and numerous minutes that he and she were born of the same ilk, both beings who worked with and around nature. As her eyes picked up broken branches and hoof marks, he seemed to find scratched tiny twigs and the barest of depressions in the mud.

Veridian on her shoulders said nothing, but pressed close, feeling the growing chaos in her heart. Focused, she kept on, trying to think of nothing but Celandine, but once more failing. She kept her awareness on their three markers, and found small hedgehogs, ant colonies and other animals. An ancient oak tree, a whole explosion of fungi that she felt would give glorious conversation and -

The Huntsman seemed to notice it before her though. The true anomaly in their sight. Long strides carried him to something unmoving, a stonework statue. Her heart froze.

“Erik …” she whispered, haunting in her voice. The fear on the tera'k's posture was horribly, horribly all so obvious. Swallowing hard she swung her eyes at the Huntsman, gesturing to the beast as she began to rifle in a bag at her side. “Can you … tell?”

[The Huntsman]

As she rummaged in her bag, I nodded in response to her question. I stepped closer, my eyes narrow and scanning, searching. My fingers ran along the stone - there would be a sign if it was a Gorgon. As I examined the statue, I was also looking at the area around the ox. From the fear in her voice, Philomel had seen the terror in the ox’s stance - but I had seen something else.

He was curled, slightly, around a central point on his right side. Looking down, I could just barely, barely see the scuff marks of tiny hooves on the ground. The weather had disrupted most of them - but almost directly under the statue, a few had been preserved. The girl had escaped, as the tera’k protected her. It sacrificed itself to slow down whatever was pursuing the child. I let my hand rest on its head as I searched long the outside edge of the animal’s form. It had tried to defend her to its last.

My eyes locked on. Tiny, thin little marks, barely visible beneath the stone fur. Three pairs of marks, side by side - my lips settled in a grim line. A Gorgon, then. That - was dangerous, but less so than a Medusa. My lips pulled back from my teeth. I could fight a Gorgon. I could avoid their strikes. I turned around to report - to see Philomel holding out a mirror to me. I shook my head and tapped the spot on the animal’s shoulder.

“Bite marks. This was a Gorgon, not a Medusa. Do you just have enhanced speed, or are your reflexes above normal as well?” I didn't want to, or need to, tell her that from the wear on the stone, it had been stoned for too long for my serum to work on it. I hoped that if the girl had been captured, it was more recent. We’d have a day or two to best.

“Speed, reflexes, jumping,” she nodded as she put the mirror back in her pack. “My fastest speed I have ever run just outlasts a tiger at full charge.” Her hand ran through her hair. Behind her Vaeron pulled up to a halt, his eyes looking between her and I, but he said nothing. “But you know what you are doing best.”

I blinked at her - was that - a compliment? For me, the abomination? I nodded slowly, studying her for a moment. Alright. “Stay at range. The less people in melee combat, the less likely we are to run into each other. I - hope you found a magical cure for this one.” I tapped the tera’k on the shoulder again, and let my hand fall away as I settled my shoulders.

From under my coat I drew my Saw-Spear, gripping it in its folded state in my right hand. In my left, iron spikes settled in between the fingers of my left hand. We were close if the animal had fallen here. After seeing Philomel nod, and Vaeron climb off of his mount, I moved off, following the trail that the tiny child had left.

Her trail was even fainter than the tera’k’s had been. I could see signs of desperation, she was fleeing, trying to escape. I lost her trail for a few moments - and then I saw something that set me back on the trail. I strode by, not looking at the stone squirrel that was hanging, ‘limp’ from a knot hole in a tree, bite marks clear on its side. Why would a squirrel have tried to get out here. Animals should know that a Beast was too dangerous.

I shoved the mystery aside, and picked up my pace. There were more - scattered along the trail. Fuck, they must have come through in such a rush that the animals didn't have time to get out of the way. I crouched down and started sprinting - in the distance, I thought I had heard a shout.

[Philomel]

“Enka … Enka!”

“Celandine!” Philomel screamed, as the words burned in her mind.

She began running, flat out, her eyes wild and her heart racing. Vaeron grimaced as he sprinted to the Huntsman's side and spoke fast. “It means 'help’ in their tongue,” he explained as he continued.

Noticeably, the Huntsman went faster, darting away ahead of Vaeron and leaving the man in the grass. The old mage rolled his eyes but pulled his bow off his back, preparing to throw an arrow made of pure energy from it, should the need arise.

Before them both, her face filled with terror, Philomel ran. She knew it was stupid, darting like that when she had told the Huntsman he should be the one to take it, but this was … it was her daughter. She had cried, in faunish. She had cried out … to her!

She created the top of the hill. Only to see a horror before her. A twisted human torso, covered in scales, long, gangly arms ending in sharp, clawed hands. A screaming face, distorted in rage and hunger, faintly reptilian. On top of ‘her’ head, a writhing mass of small serpents had replaced hair - and they were currently rearing up and back, mouths wide open, fangs dripping a curiously grey liquid. Where there should have been leg, a massive serpentine tail, thick and coloured a disgusting shade of reddish yellow, like the rest of the scales. Before this monster, a tiny, frail faun girl, frantically running.

Celandine seemed to blink, her body paused. Then she twisted to the side, and began running straight for Philomel, her arms reaching out. “Oma! Mother save me!” She cried out, her arms raised as her tiny legs tried to propel her towards her mother.

Then the Gorgon struck. Its body twisted and shot to the side, and the hissing serpents upon its head lashed out. Fangs pierced delicate skin, and a cry of anguish, pain and terror ripped from Celandine’s lips as grey rippled outwards from the bites. The monster let out a triumphant howl.

Eyes grew wild, as a rush of pure, unleashed rage boiled through Philomel. She let out a terrific screech, with rapidly turned into the angriest, most fearsome bleat of anyone's imaginings. Dragging her sword from her sheath she prepared to throw everything she had at this monster - this actual monster before her, all hatred and anger and death. Not the Huntsman, bah he was a man, a simple man who knew nothing better than the world he was raised in. Just like Philomel.

Her jaw tightened at the sight of her true enemy as she began to run. As she did the rage of her ancestors began to burn through her veins and she let it consume her. Her light hoofsteps became massive as her body began to writhe and contort, muscles rippling alive. Another bellowed bleat and her head was becoming twisted, no longer that of a beautiful woman but a full goat’s head, horns proudly born. She began to charge the Gorgon, her body ready to slice it's head off, mind full of fury.

There was a voice somewhere at the back of her mind calling to her desperately, but … bah. This was more important. She threw the image of a tiny fox, struggling up the hill to get to the same place as Vaeron, from her mind to focus on her fight.

That was when the Gorgon sneered. Leaning forwards and grabbed the small stone form of the faun girl who so recently just been flesh. So late had they been, just too late, for Celandine's last prophecy to come true … the Gorgon grabbed the body as if it weighed nothing more than a pebble. Then with a meeting screech it threw the body into the air, and Philomel enraged, paused for a moment - and dropped her sword. Her body went into instinct, arms flying out and legs pounding in another direction, even though she was becoming blind with anger. Motherly instinct was, and had always been, her primary purpose and she was surging forwards, eyes now upwards to catch the falling stone body.

It was a distraction, and a good one. The Gorgon, recognising her prey’s weakness surged forwards now, teeth bared to strike the mighty faun’s back …

[The Huntsman]

Damnation you stupid faun! We can save your daughter don't - she was already gone, charging in. Fuck - Gorgon and Medusae were intelligent, this one would use its wiles to trick and fight. I drew back my left arm, already seeing what would happen. Despite my own fury at the Beast, my mind was clear, and I was watching in almost slow motion as it happened.

The statue was snatched up as the now inhuman faun charged forward. The Gorgon let out a snarl, missed under the goat’s angry beats, and hurled the girl. Not straight at Philomel, but to the side. There was a second of hesitation, and my arm began to snap forward. Philomel twisted, her blade fell. She lunged, her arms cradling the statue, keeping it from hitting the ground. She fell, holding her entombed daughter tight - and the Gorgon attacked, serpents diving in for a second kill.

My silver gaze tracked the serpents, and my throw finished. Thin, sharp spikes shot through the air, propelled by my unnatural strength. One, two three - three spikes, three heads negated. There were two more though, following behind - but I was there, coat flaring up as I knocked the faun to the ground. The serpents buried their fangs into the thick fabric, trying to inject their venom.

Then a thin bolt of energy crashed down between us, and the Gorgon reeled back as a tremor rocked the ground. It hissed and its gaze shot to the side, where Vaeron stood, the fox next to him howling in anger. The man drew his bow back, and another crackling, popping bolt of energy formed against it. The fox took off, charging forward, his paws tearing up the grass as he sprinted at the Beast. With every step, his body grew in size, swelling in proportion.

The Gorgon was scared, now. Scared, and distracted. I ignored the heavy feeling in my left arm, and with a snarl I deployed the Saw-Spear to full extension. The Beast looked back to me as it heard the solid click, and the eyes on every head went wide as my blade drove forward, burying itself in the monster’s gut, just above where the tail met the human abdomen. Impaled, trapped by the jagged teeth, it was unable to avoid the follow up shot from Vaeron, the crackling bolt of energy slamming into it shoulder - and that arm blew off in an explosion of blood that sent tremors into my body through the Saw-Spear.

Then the fox was there, and his jaws bit down on the other shoulder, tearing it free with a rip and a twist. The Gorgon was screeching, a terrible wail, and its serpent hair tried to bite the fox, but he was gone, dancing away before the fangs could snap through where he was. The snake-woman turned her gaze to me, clearly intending to scare me off so it could go free.

Not happening. The muscles in my right arm tensed, bulged, and I ripped upwards, tearing a massive gash through the Beast. It wasn't a clean bisection - but a jagged wound, stretching from near its stomach, up and out through its left shoulder. It hung there, jaw open in pain and shock, and then it collapsed to the ground with a wet thud. I stabbed the Saw-Spear into its tail and flung the east away, not letting it get anyone else in its death throes.

Then with a heavy thud, I sat. Philomel was getting to her feet, her eyes wide and focused on me as she held her daughter in her arms. Good. “The prey … Is slaughtered, Philomel. You, and she, are safe.” I did not want to look at my left arm. And I did not want her to see it. I kept it held carefully, to seem natural.

[Philomel]

Fat tears began to run from the faun’s cheeks as her body began to morph back into its natural form. A thick lump in her throat had formed in the last few seconds as she gazed at the Huntsman.

Double, fucking hell. He had saved her life. And when she had been cruel to him all this time. Her lips trembled as she realised all her considerations about him when they had first met were all wrong. Completely. Yes, she still might not support the idea of him changing his body but - but this. This honourable life saver was what he was. Not the monster. The monster was dead.

Her eyes flickered to the tears in his coat. Light grey skin could be seen beneath the dark slate fabric and though she did not know the colour of his blood, she had a suspicion that his skin of his arm was not naturally grey. Rather, it should be black like his face, his hands. Not grey like … like Celandine.

Her eyes tightened as she sucked in her breath and attempted to avoid a wave of tears. There was nothing she could do. Nothing. No notes in either her nor Vaeron's brief chances of research had come up with a way of curing the stone. This had been her worst fear - that they would be too late. But now her daughter was basically dead, she had narrowly avoided the fate and the Huntsman - he hadn't.

Wait. Wait. He had said something about the possibility of a cure. A river of cold sweat ran over her as she remembered the type of cure it was. His kind. The sort she had imprisoned him for, dragged him away for, and the sort that had pumped his body full of enough energy to save them all! Yes, perhaps Veridian and Vaeron, along with Delath whom she felt quaking in the earth not three metres below them, could have finished the Gorgon. But how many lives? Would there have been time to save her and Celandine whilst they strove to find a cure? Would she have died truly today were it not for this man?

This man who had the answer for his own injury and that of her daughter. She - she had nothing but a few hopes that somewhere in the world a mage had formed some sort of spell. But where was he? Who was he? He certainly liked to remain secret if that was anything to go by …

Her body rocked as she gasped, her eyes on her beloved daughter in her arms. Really, there was just one choice. She saw it in the patient golden eyes of Veridian staring at her, and in the heart the good man before her. Swallowing hard as her mind screamed in protest she slowly, with shaking hands, held out the body of her child.

“All my resources, my holdings and people are at your request,” she struggled through tears. “Just please - please. Save her.” He studied her for a long, quiet moment. Then he forced himself to his feet, his arm emerging from under his cot, showing the jagged tear and the stone that crept across part of it.

“Even if it means using science, Philomel?” His voice was soft. “I am no mage, no warlock, no priest. My tool is science, my training in the natural world. I know a recipe that can cure this. But it came from my training. If you are sure - I will help you. Help her.”

Philomel's eyes looked into his, honestly wide and pleading. “Please,” she whispered, her voice a torment of self-torture. “I literally know of no other way.” He nodded - then tucked his blood-soaked blade away, and carefully, gently took the still form of her daughter into his arms. Stone scraped against stone.

“I will carry her then. We cannot risk her falling from a mount. And your emotions are too raw. I - what we need. The ingredients should be available at an Alchemist. We need a carbonate, a substance called salt-peter, and some lye.”

Philomel nodded, swallowing now before her eyes glanced to Vaeron. “Rameses?” she whispered, using his first name that no one ever did.

The man grunted and got to his feet. “You have it, Princess. I'll be swift.” And he twisted on the spot. With a last nod to the Huntsman he began to run down the other side of the rise, where he would head right for Megladon. The horse would be wheezing by the time they got to A Single Drop but he would still carry his master back as fast as he could.

She looked back to the Huntsman, “We know the best Alchemist this side of the sea.” She held his gaze for a moment before steadying herself against a tree branch, her body suddenly weary from emotional stress and exhaustion. “My fortress is the closest place,she said quietly. “Not a couple of hours walk. There is a herbalist's room you can use.” She slowly began trudging - he had been right. She doubted she could hold Celandine safely right now.

The two of them made their way to the fort - gasps coming, wails falling, as people realized that celandine had been caught by the Gorgon. The silver-eyed Huntsman remained silent as he carried the stone form, ignoring the people who reached out and fell back, tears on their faces.

The cure would work. And he would leave, for a time. She wouldn't stop him, save for swearing him to secrecy about the location of the fort. A shrug, and an oath given, and he left them with the cure working, stealing away the grey that had encased Celandine, and he walked out of the room as the girl took a shuddering breath.

[Philomel]

*~* Fin *~*

Continued in "Awake My Child" (Philomel, Vaeron and Celandine solo) and followed after in "What You Asked For" (Hunter and Philomel)

EXTRA REQUEST: can Philomel please get 50 AP made into Gold. Thanks xx

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Philomel receives 2905 EXP and 4917 GP (Thread GP + requested AP conversion less spoils), plus the following:

Unbreakable cuffs (enchantment) with secondary enchantment to stop ability to transform into alternate forms.

As the spoil did not request a material, Steel tier was used. They are unbreakable anyway.

The Huntsman receives 1455 EXP and 200 GP.