Mara knew she was being watched. It was more felt than witnessed, a definite sensation of animal eyes on her. There were plenty of dangers in these woods, great wolves and bears or even the occasional mountain lion. Any might eat a lone person, if given the opportunity. She gripped her bow more tightly and tried not to think of how little protection it would offer against such a beast. She was a fine huntress, but one didn't bring down such beasts without spears and a group of many.

She had no such hunting party and never would. Mara was accustomed to solitude. Even in Sjaligr, she spent her time alone even when surrounded by people.

After the life she had lived, Mara was a study in hardness, the only thing that would save her from a beast. She wasn't tall among her people, but her curves were lean and athletic from the development of muscle rather than cultivation of a marriageable self, no benefit from her father's wealth in sight. Scars covered her body, most minor, but a deep scoring along her ribs was a reminder of a time someone had come very close to rectifying the mistake of nature. A leg broken and set imperfectly robbed her gait of grace, not that the crookedness of her spine from snapped vertebrae agonizingly mended by time did her any favors. All such imperfections were reminders of what set her apart.

She moved like a warrior all the same and rued that she didn't have a blade beyond a knife, nor her spear. She had twenty years of life under her belt and at least thirteen of those included combat training. A struggle with some giant beast would just be another flareup of a chronic war.

Mara already had her bowstring drawn, moving with steps soft on the grass and leaves underfoot. She tried to catch any hint of the creature, but there was only the feeling of its gaze, piercing and probably hungry. She wanted to sigh. It had already cost her the buck she'd been trailing for miles and the ache in her stomach was enough to threaten her with return to Sjaligr.

She would have much preferred to sleep hungry in the woods, but she'd already done so for several days now and winter's chill was slowly creeping into the Red Mountains. Over three days of that was reckless.

The feeling of the predator's eyes vanished. Mara wasn't certain that the beast was departing the area, but its gaze had at least changed targets. She stayed as she was for a long moment, body relaxed but ready. It was hard when the bruising on her face ached again. Not as fiercely as when it was fresh, several days ago, but the reminder made the old anger flare. Mercifully, she couldn't see her reflection, where the marks could mock her with their slowly fading colors.

Mara frowned at the thought, lips forming a tight line at the mental image. She relaxed the string of her bow carefully and checked her surroundings. There was no sign of a colossal predator, or really any animal at all except the few chirping finches who moved again in the branches above her. Their return was an indicator that the danger in the area was at least not focused on her vicinity.

Mara sighed and put a hand on her side, willing her aching ribs to stop their complaining. They refused. The extra dose of pain made exertion very unpleasant. No doubt the blotches of bruising across her face were unflattering, but fortunately she only had herself for company. With three days since their application, she was turning interesting colors. It was not something she wanted to explain to her mother, hence the unplanned hunting trip.

With empty hands, however, she would have to return. Besides, she was dangerously close to wildling country now, deep in the wildest part of the Red Mountains. The peoples who made their homes high among the dark pines were hardly good to strangers: most of Mara's people who entered any area beyond this point never returned.

It was one of the attractive features of the area. Mara knew she would be alone every time she ventured this deep, where even the bravest warriors of her people feared to tread. She found the solitude and danger more agreeable than sitting at home, perhaps even safer. Nothing terrible had happened here.

She sighed and stowed her arrow back in the quiver at her side. There was no sense in clutching it. Mara walked cautiously towards the creek, still hunting for any sign of the predator in the area. She could at least fill her waterskin for the trek back, if she would have to return. The waters were always icy in her homeland, fed by snowmelt, and she knew from experience that applying that cold even through a waterskin to her bruises made them much easier to tolerate.

Mara knelt carefully at the stream's edge and shrugged off the waterskin she wore over one shoulder, setting her bow carefully aside. She was not oblivious to her surroundings, however: there was danger here and she wasn't interested in dying.

The approach was barely a whisper behind her. Mara drew the hunting knife from her belt with one subtle movement as she rose and turned quickly, putting the blade between her and the new arrival.

Golden eyes gazed into hers, unafraid despite the threat of the knife. The woman wore furs and leather, every inch of exposed skin painted with thin lines and whorls of bright blue woad. She was taller than Mara by a head, with bleached blond hair worn long and loose. There was no sign of a weapon, but Mara made no assumption that she would be an easy opponent to deal with. The gaze was more curious than angry, but with a hint of warning. "Most of you mennskr do not come this deep," the woman said. Her voice was softer than expected, but blunt. The shape of the syllables was almost awkward, likely a sign that this was not her first language.

Mara considered her position. She was armed, and the woman was not, but this was also the wildling's land. "I'm sorry for trespassing," she said cautiously.

"You should not have come." The same bluntness, though without the aggression Mara had been expecting. There was something almost serene about the stranger.

Mara sighed. Another place where I'm not welcome, she thought with just a touch of bitterness and a heap of resignation. "Is this your land, then?"

"It is here my people dwell," the wildling said. She cocked her head slightly to the side, expression difficult to read, but she asked nothing further.

Mara lowered the knife, tucking it back in its sheath. If the woman wanted her dead, she could always draw it again. Blades were a familiar weapon, though she preferred a sword. "I only came for a deer. I'll leave," she said. She didn't want another fight if she could avoid it, particularly one with this wildling. The woman was taller and probably much stronger than she was, so the odds of Mara being seriously injured were greater than she was comfortable with if she had the option to avoid. "I'd gift it to you as an apology, but it looks like I'm a worse hunter than I thought."

A smile flashed across the stranger's expression, though it seemed awkward, like the wildling seldom made that expression. "Name," she said more softly.

"Mara," the huntress said, keeping her gaze firmly on the wildling. The eyes that studied her were a beautiful gold, their color standing out even more striking because of the blue paint. They almost looked more like a beast's than a person's, but with human intelligence. "What's your name?"

The wild woman hesitated, eyes narrowing with intent as she scrutinized Mara's expression. "I am Aallotar," she said. There was a pause before she observed, "You are wounded."

There was no reason to deny it, given the obvious bruising to her face. Mara knew she had a spectacular black eye to complement where skin had split on the bridge of her nose and her lip. "I am."

Aallotar's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Truly, the deer must have been fierce angered."

Mara laughed, which surprised her more than the wildling. It just wasn't something that she was used to coming from herself. When was the last time that sound bubbled up? It was so hard to remember. "I rarely box with wild animals. It never ends well."

"Soft hands seldom triumph over fang and claw," Aallotar said in agreement. She hesitated for a moment again, contemplating her response before she gave it. "Wounds should be tended."

"It's just a few bruises," Mara said with a shrug. "A cut here or there. Nothing that won't mend on its own." Her ribs twinged painfully on her next breath, a reminder that cold would probably be a wise idea. She hadn't bothered to tend to her injuries over the past few days, more interested in getting the hell away from those who had caused them.

Aallotar shook her head. "Let me see."

No one offered her healing except her mother. Mara wasn't even certain how to respond. A knot formed in her stomach when she realized that it would expose her nature the moment the wildling went to cast a spell. "That's generous of you, but—"

The ferocity in Aallotar's expression came almost out of nowhere. "Sit," she said with an edge that was almost hard, pointing to the boulder beside Mara.

Mara reminded herself that a quarrel with a wildling could easily get her killed, whatever the reason for the argument. She took a seat, brushing brown hair out of her face to show the full bruising. Maybe it was better to just accept the temporary charity before the inevitable turn. The moment Aallotar's fingertips neared her cheek, she caught the wildling's wrist in one hand. "No magic," she said, unable to make the demand into a less harsh request.

Aallotar looked surprised by the tone, but not offended. "No magic," she promised.

Mara relaxed slightly at the sincerity in Aallotar's words, though she still wasn't certain how she felt about this offer of help. She released the wildling's wrist. A second later, fingertips gently brushed over the bruising without enough pressure to cause even a brief flash of pain. They traced around clotted cuts, sweeping away some dried blood. It was considerate, not the cruel digging in of fingers that Mara had expected.

"Deep," Aallotar said with a frown. She moved her hand down to the satchel at her side, producing a bundle from inside the bag. She crouched down in front of Mara, setting it down and unrolling it to reveal several jars accompanied by brushes.

"You came ready," Mara said, a brief amusement flashing across her features.

"Healers always prepare," the wildling said as she carefully unsealed a jar and pulled out a larger dish. "For cleaning."

It smelled strongly of herbs and sweetness, but Mara had no illusions she even vaguely knew what was in it. She watched with curiosity as the wildling took some water for the river and blended it with the paste until it was a light green rinse. She took a brush and used it to swab over the cuts and bruising, rinsing away excess blood. It stung and tingled, but Mara didn't raise a protest. The application of the wounds had hurt a good deal more than Aallotar tending to them.

Aallotar produced a second jar and a second brush. "For swelling," she explained before applying the red-brown ointment. This balm soothed and felt cold against Mara's damaged skin. The wildling worked with definite care and a serious intent. The movement of her hands and the soft touch of the brush were almost soothing.

Mara wasn't certain how to feel about it, but she couldn't escape the profound gratitude seeping up from the depths of her chest. Aallotar finished her work quickly, every bit an expert, and touched Mara's chin to turn her head so she could examine the bruising and be certain she treated it completely.

"Better," Aallotar said firmly, satisfied with what she saw.

It already felt better, which was more than she could say for any cure she had waiting for her at home. "I should come here more often," Mara said with a slight smile.

"Are there often injuries?" the wildling asked. She sounded almost concerned.

"Sometimes I parry with my face," the huntress said lightly, trying not to dwell on the question. It stirred at the angry demon that lived at the center of her chest. She dipped her head to Aallotar. "Thank you. I won't forget this, and you can be damn sure I'll repay it."

The wildling smiled faintly as she packed her medicines away, but then a shadow seemed to pass over her expression. "You should return to the river and cross it. This place is not safe for mennskr at night."

Mara sighed. She didn't know that she wanted to leave the company of anyone who would do her such a kindness without asking for anything in return. "Southeast it is," she said all the same, retrieving her bow. She stood up, smiling genuinely for the first time in a very long time. "Thank you, Aallotar. If I come back this way, during the day, do you think I could say hello? I still have to repay you."

Aallotar hesitated for a long moment, a war playing out in golden eyes as she contemplated that possibility. "It would not be wise," she said finally. "My people..."

"Please?" Mara said more softly. "I promise I'll be careful."

The wildling smiled ruefully as she rose to her feet once she carefully stowed everything. "You are hard to refuse."

Mara smiled. "Only to you. Can I see you again?"

"Why do you wish it?" Aallotar asked, a last question of deliberation, although Mara could practically see her resistance caving. That curiosity was alive and well in those golden eyes.

There were a lot of answers to that question that Mara wasn't ready to say, possibly even to herself. Admitting how empty her life was of people who cared what happened to her would probably make her look pathetic. "What you just did for me was exceptionally kind," she said honestly. "It wouldn't be right if I just took that gift and left never to return it."

Aallotar looked away, a hint of color in her cheeks. "My people know no kindness."

"I don't know if that's true or not, but you showed otherwise of yourself," Mara said firmly. "I'm not leaving unless I can return."

The wildling offered no protest. "Then go and do not delay before crossing the river," she said quietly, a slight smile forming. "I will see you again beneath sunlight."

"I'll be good," Mara said with an unusual lightness in her chest despite the ache of hunger. The buck was no longer first thing on her mind. "And back before you know it." She would have to find an appropriate gift for the healer before she returned. She turned to stride away, bow in hand and the waterskin slung across her back.

The delicate touch of fingertips against her wrist stopped her in her tracks. She turned to see Aallotar's golden eyes looking at her with almost worry. No, insecurity. "Mara," the healer said, the huntress's name springing awkward from her lips, overemphasized and almost clumsy.

"What's wrong?"

"When you look, what do you see of me?"

Mara turned to face the wildling. She took it as the serious question that it was and looked the healer up and down, trying to take in every detail. Whatever her gentle nature, Aallotar moved like a seasoned fighter. There was danger there, but Mara didn't see it directed at her. The woad was meant to threaten too and break up an outline. The hands that had tended her face, however, were anything but hostile. Even their touch against the inside of her wrist was gentle, barely there. By the time she returned her gaze to golden eyes, she was fairly certain she knew what her answer would be.

"I see a good heart," Mara said. "Better than any in Sjaligr, myself included. As far as I'm concerned, that's all I need to see."

Whatever Aallotar had been expecting to hear, that was not it. Her eyes widened in surprise. "My thanks," she said, moving her hand away from Mara's, a stunned but very much sincere smile forming. "Such words are....greater a kindness than you know."

Mara felt a definite glow of warmth at the center of her chest at being able to make anyone smile so. Maybe it had just taken being away from her people, from anyone who knew what she was, to make a friend. She wasn't looking forward to the gut punch of betrayal when Aallotar learned the truth about her nature, but Mara was used to that particular disappointment. "I should go," she said. "I'll see you again soon."

Aallotar made no move to follow her as she turned towards the river and started hiking. No doubt the wildling had a great many thoughts of her own to mull over. Mara glanced back over her shoulder a few times, but the brush quickly obscured the healer from view. By the time she had made it down a few bends of the trail, the quiet of the woods returned.

The beast was back.

Mara picked up her pace, not running, but walking with speed and purpose even as she kept her eyes open and gazed all around. She wasn't certain if she was merely trespassing on its domain or if it was actively stalking her, but she had no desire to be in its habitat after dark. Aallotar's warning was received loud and clear: this place is not safe at night.

She hoped her new acquaintance didn't have to worry about the beast. Then again, for all she knew, it was a pet or guardian of the wildlings. Supposedly they were close with nature, more so than Mara's own people. Why couldn't they have some great predator trained to eat trespassers? 

She kept on the move until she reached the river, not stopping for a second. It wasn't deep, but it was wide. She unstrung her bow and tucked it into the leather case she'd left on the shore, sealing it to protect it against the water. She carried it over her head as she waded out into the river, only stopping to glance back when she had made it halfway across the water.

It was hard to see it on the shore, shaggy hair blending with the moss, but a rippling of muscle as it moved through the trees sent a chill down Mara's spine. It looked like a wolf, or at least close in nature, but it had to be the size of a draft horse. Yellow eyes stared deep into hers, alive with a terrible hunger.

Mara kept walking, carefully keeping her footing in the river, and tried not to think too long about the beast watching her go. Wolves were a grim omen, the soothsayers said, creatures that symbolized slaughter and mayhem. To feel the gaze of one meant ill tidings ahead.

Then again, she was returning home. That was an ill tiding in and of itself.