| Fantasy Fiction posted September 25, 2020 | Chapters: |
...4 5 -6- 7... 
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Aallotar and Mara confronting the beast takes a turn.
A chapter in the book Within the Bone
A Beast
by K. Olsen
| Background Mara left Sjaligr after bringing them a dark prophecy from Kalevi. Now she is in wildling land and something terrible has arrived in the south. |
Aallotar surged to her feet before Mara had a chance to do more than blink. “What’s going on?” the huntress asked as she scrambled up to her own.
“Stay here,” the wildling said, tension building in her body. Suddenly there was something almost animalistic in the way she moved, like a growl was building in her body. “The beast hunts you.”
“You have no weapons, Aallotar,” Mara said firmly, wishing she had her bow or a spear. A sword and shield would have to do as far as defense, stupid as it sounded. “I’m not letting you tangle with anything dangerous alone. It can’t be worse than a troll.”
“Worse,” the wildling said, turning to face Mara. There was something pleading in her expression. “Stay here, Mara. You are mennskr. Nothing except your death will satisfy its hunger. Please stay.”
“What if it hurts you?” Mara had no intention of allowing her first and only friend to die.
“I am stronger than I look,” Aallotar said. Her expression hardened at the sound of another, closer howl. “We have no time for quarrel. Stay.” Without waiting for a reply, Aallotar turned and bolted from the cave into the darkness.
Mara grabbed her sword and shield with a spat curse, giving Aallotar a three-second headstart so she wouldn’t immediately be spotted by the wildling. She wove through the woods with every bit of cunning she had learned over the course of her life, doing her best not to make a damn sound as she followed Aallotar’s passage through the brush. More and more, Aallotar gained distance, moving with a speed Mara could barely even follow.
The clawing branches of the deep, dark pines tore at Mara’s face as she hurried after the wildling. Thorn bushes scratched her and roots sought to capture her feet as she moved, but Mara spent far more of her life in the woods than out of them. She was not going to take a fright of the darkness, nor of this strange beast.
She stepped up to the edge of the clearing, the light of a half moon shedding silver illumination down on the ground. There was the beast at the far end of the clearing, a wolf-like monster the size of a draft horse with dark, matted fur and long strings of glistening drool pouring from its jaws. It could almost pass as one of the great dire wolves, but Mara saw none of the calm of an animal in it. Never before had she seen anything so captured in rage, wrath visible in its tense posture and hateful gaze that swept across the edge of the clearing in hunt for something, probably Mara herself. Even rabies seemed not enough to account for the behavior, though that possibility made the huntress shiver.
There was no sign of Aallotar.
Mara slipped her sword out of the sheath. Even if the flash of the blade alerted the creature, she wasn’t damn well going to keep it concealed when she would need it to defend herself. She adjusted her grip and took a deep breath, waiting for the creature to approach.
Branches snapped from the woodline well more than a stone’s throw from Mara, probably close to fifty yards from her current space. Another great beast of the same variety surged from the woodline, colored more like the timberwolves of the region, hurling itself at its opponent without hesitation. The quiet night was now full of snarling and growling as the creatures ripped at each other.
It was a duel of titans, one Mara had no interest in being involved in. She had no way to get back to the cave without retracing steps, and that was impossible in the dark without a light...particularly because her host had ensured that the path was foreign to her. She needed Aallotar to find her way. She took a deep breath and gripped her shield a little more tightly, as ready as she would ever be to contend with the victor. She felt woefully unprepared for the savagery she saw unfolding.
Even if a touch smaller, the grey wolf ripped flesh from the jaws of its enemy and slashed at it with rending claws. The larger, black-furred one made full use of its larger size, slamming and crushing with its body as well as snapping its jaws to try to rip the throat from the smaller creature. They circled and battled like two hungry wolves, but there was no dominance play here, no chance for submission: kill or be killed.
Mara heard the crack of bone from the creatures and almost cringed. The larger wolf-like beast howled in agony, recoiling back from the other with a broken foreleg. The way it held up its paw as it limped displayed its most unsettling feature.
It had a hand or at least a long, narrow paw with space between its claws, with what might have been a dew claw that was pronounced enough to almost be a thumb. A chill gripped Mara’s spine when she saw it. Whatever these things were, they were not natural beasts. Her hold on her shield was tight enough that she was starting to go numb in that hand, but she couldn’t get herself to loosen her grip even a little.
The smaller beast ducked low and surged up as soon as it saw an opening. Its opponent tried to recoil back, to save its own throat, but grey jaws clamped wickedly around its windpipe. The rip and tear was enough to make Mara ill. Even after the larger wolf-like abomination fell to the ground, its foe was still in a frenzy, shredding the body apart.
Mara exhaled and took a step back, wary of the creature. There was an unfortunate snap from below her heel and Mara cursed every god she had ever heard of in the privacy of her own head.
The beast swiveled towards her and snarled, eyes glowing eerily in the moonlight against its hateful, ravenous face. There was something so twisted about it that Mara’s dread almost completely overwhelmed her. Bloody foam streaking its chest and jaws, the beast moved towards her, its passage through the grass silent even though it limped slightly from the wound dealt by the bigger one.
Everything in Mara screamed to run, but she held her ground. She knew that if she turned and fled, she would have no defense against it. She raised her shield, bringing it forward to protect as much of her body as possible as she readied her sword. A deep breath restored her center. Calm. Be calm. Fear will end you.
The creature tensed and lunged for her, a devouring fury fueling its charge across the meadow. It was on her in almost a split second, but it never connected.
As soon as it was within twenty feet of her, something horrible happened to the beast. There was a symphony of snapping, like every bone breaking at once, and the creature let out a banshee howl that turned into a scream of agony as its whole form twisted and contorted. Suddenly it was staggering rather than walking on all fours, fur growing lighter as it receded across the body. Joints snapped and twisted even as its legs changed shape.
Aallotar hit the ground on her knees in front of Mara, covered in blood and bile, sides heaving as she trembled uncontrollably, the last of the transformation finishing. The smell of the beast still lingered around her, sweat and musk mingling with the reek of death. She looked horrible, woad smeared over by the blood across her face, golden eyes still reflecting the moonlight like a wolf’s.
Mara took a step back, lowering her blade so it was no longer pointed at Aallotar’s chest. “You’re the beast,” she breathed.
Aallotar shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “I am not,” she choked out. “I am not. Not when with you.”
Mara knew what her kinsmen would have done in her position. Aallotar was a monster, the kind out of nightmare, the kind that would devour humans down to the very marrow, every bit as dangerous and hostile as the troll Kalevi. If any true son of Sjaligr were in her place, they would plunge their sword into the wildling’s chest and have one less eater of men in the world.
There was no escaping that whatever she was and however dangerous she was, Aallotar was unmistakably hurting and not just from her injuries. Mara could see genuine torment in the wildling’s expression, fear and shame every bit as visible as the blood. It gave her every answer she could ever need from Aallotar.
Mara sheathed her sword and slung her shield across her back, stepping forward to steady Aallotar with both hands. The blood that was everywhere was still hot against Mara’s hands, filling the air with its coppery stench.
“We need to get back,” she said, ignoring the quiver in her own body. Part of her was still screaming for her to run away from this predator that looked like a friend, but she overruled it. Aallotar had been nothing but kind and her protection, no matter how terrifying, was just that: protection.
Aallotar made a sobbing sound as she drew in her next breath. “I am sorry,” she whispered, voice rough from the force of her growls and cries.
Mara knew that wretched sound. It’d come out of her own mouth many, many times when she was younger. She knelt in front of Aallotar, catching her friend’s bloody face between her hands. It forced the wildling to meet her eyes. “Aallotar, I’m not going to hurt you or leave you,” she said, letting her eyes and voice show her sincerity. “I need your help finding the way back to the cave. You’re not well.”
Arms wrapped around Mara and pulled her close into a hug so tight it felt like it would break ribs. Aallotar’s body was hot to the touch, as if she suffered the worst fever Mara had ever experienced. “Sorry,” she said again, more softly.
Mara winced. Now she was covered in blood and saliva too. “Let’s get you back,” she wheezed gently, trying to breathe through the crushing grip. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” Aallotar croaked as she released Mara. Even beneath the light of an inconstant moon, her relief and gratitude were visible. She got to her feet with the huntress’s help, grimacing as she did so.
Mara glanced down. Aallotar was definitely favoring her right leg, so she moved to the wildling’s left side to offer support. She formed a rough crutch, though she wasn’t certain if it was even needed. Even with the deep bite wound to her leg, Aallotar’s pain tolerance was impressive. “You’re going to need medicine and bandages. And a bath.”
“There are still some left,” the wildling said. “The cave touches a grotto with water.”
Mara nodded, trying to ignore the frantic beating of her heart as the reality of their situation set in. She was alone in the wilds with an injured Aallotar. If another of the wildling’s kind appeared, Mara would be defending herself and that was not a battle she was confident she could win.
Together, the pair made their way back to the cave, where the fire still burned, albeit low. Mara helped Aallotar sit and then stoked the fire, adding wood. She needed to heat water if she was going to properly clean wounds. Medicine wasn’t something she knew much of, but Gaius had taught her how to tend battle wounds and she had a lifetime’s worth of practice handling bruises and cuts.
Of course, to do that, she would need a pot. Mara cursed herself for coming so far with an empty pack, but Aallotar was already up and moving towards the back of the cave, hobbling towards the faint sound of running water. “I will return.”
Mara followed, catching Aallotar gently by the wrist. “Let me help you,” she said. “You’re covered in mess and you’re injured. I also have some soap.”
Aallotar hesitated, ducking her head and turning her gaze to the ground. “I…”
“Trust me,” Mara said, stressing the words. “I trusted you to tend my wounds.”
“I...I do,” the wildling said softly. “I just…no one…”
Mara wanted to hug Aallotar and never let go at that answer. She knew exactly how it felt to have to tend her own wounds alone. “Let me help you,” she said again, touching Aallotar’s shoulder. “Can you do that for me?”
Aallotar nodded and made her way slowly to a deep, cold pool where a stream passed through the stone, weaving its way underground. There was just enough current for it to gently flow from east to west.
Mara stopped and grabbed her things as well as Aallotar’s healing satchel before following. By the time she arrived, Aallotar had stripped off her furs and stepped down into the pool. There were a number of lacerations on her back, but most of the bites seemed to be focused on her arms and legs. It was the scars that stopped Mara in her tracks.
Across the dense bone and sheets of hard muscle that were her body, the wildling bore hundreds and hundreds of claw and bite marks, overlapping into a rough topography that was painted with woad. Then Mara realized something when the woad was not disturbed by the waters. No, not painted. Tattooed, like us.
The sheer number of scars and the severity of some of them hurt Mara’s heart more than a little. It explained Aallotar’s comments about living alone to avoid conflict. How many times had she been forced into a fight where there was only death?
Too many, Mara thought, resolving to move gently around such terrible wounds.
By the time Aallotar was clean, she climbed out of the pool shivering. Mara was waiting with the blanket out of her bedroll. Soft wool warmed by the fire would do more to ease the cold than simply putting on her haphazard assortment of furs, all of which were still bloody.
“I have one of Gaius’s shirts in my bag,” Mara said as they walked back towards the fire. “You’re about the same height and he’s pretty barrel-chested. It’ll be something.”
“Thank you,” the wildling said. Her eyes seemed more human here in the firelight, though they still caught the light strangely.
Mara knelt down by her pack and fished out the shirt. She kept it in case she needed to make more char cloth or for various other uses, but it was far more useful now as an actual garment. She held it out to Aallotar before reaching into the satchel to find the little pot of herbs. “You’re going to have to tell me the order here. Green, then red?”
Aallotar smiled at that for the first time since they’d left the fire, pulling the shirt over her head. It fell down to mid-thigh on her, still leaving the worst wounds exposed enough to easily treat. “Swift recall.”
“I occasionally remember a thing or two, to everyone’s surprise,” Mara said. She kept her tone light after seeing Aallotar’s smile out of her peripheral vision. That was an expression that looked much better on her friend than terror and shame.
She wasn’t as confident as Aallotar in tending wounds, but she could follow instructions. She opened the first little jar and picked up the brush that Aallotar pointed to. Mara carefully added water to a small dish and then the herbal mix, creating the same green rinse that the wildling used on her face with such skill. She carefully flushed and painted every scrape and cut, trying to go as gently as possible to avoid too much pain. Then she added the rust-colored salve with the same care.
Aallotar hissed occasionally, but for the most part took the discomfort and pain in silence. She watched Mara with luminous golden eyes, hesitating and then stopping any time words began to form. She relaxed a little when time came to bandage everything. “Close enough to fit well, gentle enough not to cut the tide of blood through veins,” Aallotar instructed. “The clots are made, no need for more pressure.”
“Thanks,” Mara said quickly. She made certain to be careful as she bound up Aallotar’s wounds using the rolls of old gauze that were tucked in the satchel.
“We should speak,” Aallotar said reluctantly as Mara worked.
“About?” the huntress asked. She kept her hands moving so the process would be over sooner and Aallotar would be able to rest more comfortably without someone fussing over her.
The wildling pulled in a deep breath. “The beast.”
Mara looked up from bandaging. “Only if you want to.” She wasn’t about to put pressure on Aallotar, not with her own past full of unpleasant realities that she wasn’t keen to discuss.
Aallotar nodded. She hesitated for a moment, gathering courage together. “It is a curse we suffer. Agony and rage forever, never knowing peace,” she said softly. “Once, the mage who gave me these balms, this knowledge, sought to break it. While he could still my fury for a time, he could not change my form. He was an old man when I knew him, but he taught me much: to move, to speak, to understand.”
“So you were always in that form?” Mara asked, thinking again of the wolf-like beasts in the clearing.
“For all my days. The fury returned after he died as if it had never been touched,” Aallotar admitted. “Until...you.” She shook her head slightly. “My thoughts cleared, my heart calmed, my soul stilled, even my body became what it was meant to be. I do not know why or how.”
“I have an answer for you,” Mara said. It was strange to think of her own curse as anything beneficial. “I can break spells. Just being near me severs the connection between magic and the Weave.”
“Could you break it forever?” Aallotar asked, hope glowing to life in her golden eyes.
Mara hesitated. “That’s a good question. I don’t know,” she admitted. She didn’t like that she couldn’t just say yes. “It’s always just happened. I can’t control it.”
Aallotar leaned forward, touching her forehead to Mara’s. “Yes or no, you are a wonderful soul,” she said sincerely. “Always I will be grateful for the peace you bring, the lull in the storm.”
“So that other creature was…” Mara stopped before she could say it. She understood death and war, though she was not allowed anywhere near the warriors on the war-path, where she might weaken their powers before battle. Aamu and Gaius both had taught her many lessons about the end of life, in their very different ways.
“He was like me,” Aallotar acknowledged, something in those words small and hurting. “The rage is uncontrollable, but even more so near the blood of mennskr. The beast within craves it.”
“You were defending us,” the huntress said gently. She straightened up slightly. “We’ll break your curse, Aallotar. We’ll find a way.”
Aallotar’s entire expression softened. “Thank you.”
Mara knew that meant she would have to do the thing she dreaded most: returning home to Sjaligr. It would be a while before Aallotar was healed enough for her to leave, however. She flashed the wildling a smile. “I guess there is a way for me to repay your kindness after all.”
“Stay here,” the wildling said, tension building in her body. Suddenly there was something almost animalistic in the way she moved, like a growl was building in her body. “The beast hunts you.”
“You have no weapons, Aallotar,” Mara said firmly, wishing she had her bow or a spear. A sword and shield would have to do as far as defense, stupid as it sounded. “I’m not letting you tangle with anything dangerous alone. It can’t be worse than a troll.”
“Worse,” the wildling said, turning to face Mara. There was something pleading in her expression. “Stay here, Mara. You are mennskr. Nothing except your death will satisfy its hunger. Please stay.”
“What if it hurts you?” Mara had no intention of allowing her first and only friend to die.
“I am stronger than I look,” Aallotar said. Her expression hardened at the sound of another, closer howl. “We have no time for quarrel. Stay.” Without waiting for a reply, Aallotar turned and bolted from the cave into the darkness.
Mara grabbed her sword and shield with a spat curse, giving Aallotar a three-second headstart so she wouldn’t immediately be spotted by the wildling. She wove through the woods with every bit of cunning she had learned over the course of her life, doing her best not to make a damn sound as she followed Aallotar’s passage through the brush. More and more, Aallotar gained distance, moving with a speed Mara could barely even follow.
The clawing branches of the deep, dark pines tore at Mara’s face as she hurried after the wildling. Thorn bushes scratched her and roots sought to capture her feet as she moved, but Mara spent far more of her life in the woods than out of them. She was not going to take a fright of the darkness, nor of this strange beast.
She stepped up to the edge of the clearing, the light of a half moon shedding silver illumination down on the ground. There was the beast at the far end of the clearing, a wolf-like monster the size of a draft horse with dark, matted fur and long strings of glistening drool pouring from its jaws. It could almost pass as one of the great dire wolves, but Mara saw none of the calm of an animal in it. Never before had she seen anything so captured in rage, wrath visible in its tense posture and hateful gaze that swept across the edge of the clearing in hunt for something, probably Mara herself. Even rabies seemed not enough to account for the behavior, though that possibility made the huntress shiver.
There was no sign of Aallotar.
Mara slipped her sword out of the sheath. Even if the flash of the blade alerted the creature, she wasn’t damn well going to keep it concealed when she would need it to defend herself. She adjusted her grip and took a deep breath, waiting for the creature to approach.
Branches snapped from the woodline well more than a stone’s throw from Mara, probably close to fifty yards from her current space. Another great beast of the same variety surged from the woodline, colored more like the timberwolves of the region, hurling itself at its opponent without hesitation. The quiet night was now full of snarling and growling as the creatures ripped at each other.
It was a duel of titans, one Mara had no interest in being involved in. She had no way to get back to the cave without retracing steps, and that was impossible in the dark without a light...particularly because her host had ensured that the path was foreign to her. She needed Aallotar to find her way. She took a deep breath and gripped her shield a little more tightly, as ready as she would ever be to contend with the victor. She felt woefully unprepared for the savagery she saw unfolding.
Even if a touch smaller, the grey wolf ripped flesh from the jaws of its enemy and slashed at it with rending claws. The larger, black-furred one made full use of its larger size, slamming and crushing with its body as well as snapping its jaws to try to rip the throat from the smaller creature. They circled and battled like two hungry wolves, but there was no dominance play here, no chance for submission: kill or be killed.
Mara heard the crack of bone from the creatures and almost cringed. The larger wolf-like beast howled in agony, recoiling back from the other with a broken foreleg. The way it held up its paw as it limped displayed its most unsettling feature.
It had a hand or at least a long, narrow paw with space between its claws, with what might have been a dew claw that was pronounced enough to almost be a thumb. A chill gripped Mara’s spine when she saw it. Whatever these things were, they were not natural beasts. Her hold on her shield was tight enough that she was starting to go numb in that hand, but she couldn’t get herself to loosen her grip even a little.
The smaller beast ducked low and surged up as soon as it saw an opening. Its opponent tried to recoil back, to save its own throat, but grey jaws clamped wickedly around its windpipe. The rip and tear was enough to make Mara ill. Even after the larger wolf-like abomination fell to the ground, its foe was still in a frenzy, shredding the body apart.
Mara exhaled and took a step back, wary of the creature. There was an unfortunate snap from below her heel and Mara cursed every god she had ever heard of in the privacy of her own head.
The beast swiveled towards her and snarled, eyes glowing eerily in the moonlight against its hateful, ravenous face. There was something so twisted about it that Mara’s dread almost completely overwhelmed her. Bloody foam streaking its chest and jaws, the beast moved towards her, its passage through the grass silent even though it limped slightly from the wound dealt by the bigger one.
Everything in Mara screamed to run, but she held her ground. She knew that if she turned and fled, she would have no defense against it. She raised her shield, bringing it forward to protect as much of her body as possible as she readied her sword. A deep breath restored her center. Calm. Be calm. Fear will end you.
The creature tensed and lunged for her, a devouring fury fueling its charge across the meadow. It was on her in almost a split second, but it never connected.
As soon as it was within twenty feet of her, something horrible happened to the beast. There was a symphony of snapping, like every bone breaking at once, and the creature let out a banshee howl that turned into a scream of agony as its whole form twisted and contorted. Suddenly it was staggering rather than walking on all fours, fur growing lighter as it receded across the body. Joints snapped and twisted even as its legs changed shape.
Aallotar hit the ground on her knees in front of Mara, covered in blood and bile, sides heaving as she trembled uncontrollably, the last of the transformation finishing. The smell of the beast still lingered around her, sweat and musk mingling with the reek of death. She looked horrible, woad smeared over by the blood across her face, golden eyes still reflecting the moonlight like a wolf’s.
Mara took a step back, lowering her blade so it was no longer pointed at Aallotar’s chest. “You’re the beast,” she breathed.
Aallotar shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “I am not,” she choked out. “I am not. Not when with you.”
Mara knew what her kinsmen would have done in her position. Aallotar was a monster, the kind out of nightmare, the kind that would devour humans down to the very marrow, every bit as dangerous and hostile as the troll Kalevi. If any true son of Sjaligr were in her place, they would plunge their sword into the wildling’s chest and have one less eater of men in the world.
There was no escaping that whatever she was and however dangerous she was, Aallotar was unmistakably hurting and not just from her injuries. Mara could see genuine torment in the wildling’s expression, fear and shame every bit as visible as the blood. It gave her every answer she could ever need from Aallotar.
Mara sheathed her sword and slung her shield across her back, stepping forward to steady Aallotar with both hands. The blood that was everywhere was still hot against Mara’s hands, filling the air with its coppery stench.
“We need to get back,” she said, ignoring the quiver in her own body. Part of her was still screaming for her to run away from this predator that looked like a friend, but she overruled it. Aallotar had been nothing but kind and her protection, no matter how terrifying, was just that: protection.
Aallotar made a sobbing sound as she drew in her next breath. “I am sorry,” she whispered, voice rough from the force of her growls and cries.
Mara knew that wretched sound. It’d come out of her own mouth many, many times when she was younger. She knelt in front of Aallotar, catching her friend’s bloody face between her hands. It forced the wildling to meet her eyes. “Aallotar, I’m not going to hurt you or leave you,” she said, letting her eyes and voice show her sincerity. “I need your help finding the way back to the cave. You’re not well.”
Arms wrapped around Mara and pulled her close into a hug so tight it felt like it would break ribs. Aallotar’s body was hot to the touch, as if she suffered the worst fever Mara had ever experienced. “Sorry,” she said again, more softly.
Mara winced. Now she was covered in blood and saliva too. “Let’s get you back,” she wheezed gently, trying to breathe through the crushing grip. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” Aallotar croaked as she released Mara. Even beneath the light of an inconstant moon, her relief and gratitude were visible. She got to her feet with the huntress’s help, grimacing as she did so.
Mara glanced down. Aallotar was definitely favoring her right leg, so she moved to the wildling’s left side to offer support. She formed a rough crutch, though she wasn’t certain if it was even needed. Even with the deep bite wound to her leg, Aallotar’s pain tolerance was impressive. “You’re going to need medicine and bandages. And a bath.”
“There are still some left,” the wildling said. “The cave touches a grotto with water.”
Mara nodded, trying to ignore the frantic beating of her heart as the reality of their situation set in. She was alone in the wilds with an injured Aallotar. If another of the wildling’s kind appeared, Mara would be defending herself and that was not a battle she was confident she could win.
Together, the pair made their way back to the cave, where the fire still burned, albeit low. Mara helped Aallotar sit and then stoked the fire, adding wood. She needed to heat water if she was going to properly clean wounds. Medicine wasn’t something she knew much of, but Gaius had taught her how to tend battle wounds and she had a lifetime’s worth of practice handling bruises and cuts.
Of course, to do that, she would need a pot. Mara cursed herself for coming so far with an empty pack, but Aallotar was already up and moving towards the back of the cave, hobbling towards the faint sound of running water. “I will return.”
Mara followed, catching Aallotar gently by the wrist. “Let me help you,” she said. “You’re covered in mess and you’re injured. I also have some soap.”
Aallotar hesitated, ducking her head and turning her gaze to the ground. “I…”
“Trust me,” Mara said, stressing the words. “I trusted you to tend my wounds.”
“I...I do,” the wildling said softly. “I just…no one…”
Mara wanted to hug Aallotar and never let go at that answer. She knew exactly how it felt to have to tend her own wounds alone. “Let me help you,” she said again, touching Aallotar’s shoulder. “Can you do that for me?”
Aallotar nodded and made her way slowly to a deep, cold pool where a stream passed through the stone, weaving its way underground. There was just enough current for it to gently flow from east to west.
Mara stopped and grabbed her things as well as Aallotar’s healing satchel before following. By the time she arrived, Aallotar had stripped off her furs and stepped down into the pool. There were a number of lacerations on her back, but most of the bites seemed to be focused on her arms and legs. It was the scars that stopped Mara in her tracks.
Across the dense bone and sheets of hard muscle that were her body, the wildling bore hundreds and hundreds of claw and bite marks, overlapping into a rough topography that was painted with woad. Then Mara realized something when the woad was not disturbed by the waters. No, not painted. Tattooed, like us.
The sheer number of scars and the severity of some of them hurt Mara’s heart more than a little. It explained Aallotar’s comments about living alone to avoid conflict. How many times had she been forced into a fight where there was only death?
Too many, Mara thought, resolving to move gently around such terrible wounds.
By the time Aallotar was clean, she climbed out of the pool shivering. Mara was waiting with the blanket out of her bedroll. Soft wool warmed by the fire would do more to ease the cold than simply putting on her haphazard assortment of furs, all of which were still bloody.
“I have one of Gaius’s shirts in my bag,” Mara said as they walked back towards the fire. “You’re about the same height and he’s pretty barrel-chested. It’ll be something.”
“Thank you,” the wildling said. Her eyes seemed more human here in the firelight, though they still caught the light strangely.
Mara knelt down by her pack and fished out the shirt. She kept it in case she needed to make more char cloth or for various other uses, but it was far more useful now as an actual garment. She held it out to Aallotar before reaching into the satchel to find the little pot of herbs. “You’re going to have to tell me the order here. Green, then red?”
Aallotar smiled at that for the first time since they’d left the fire, pulling the shirt over her head. It fell down to mid-thigh on her, still leaving the worst wounds exposed enough to easily treat. “Swift recall.”
“I occasionally remember a thing or two, to everyone’s surprise,” Mara said. She kept her tone light after seeing Aallotar’s smile out of her peripheral vision. That was an expression that looked much better on her friend than terror and shame.
She wasn’t as confident as Aallotar in tending wounds, but she could follow instructions. She opened the first little jar and picked up the brush that Aallotar pointed to. Mara carefully added water to a small dish and then the herbal mix, creating the same green rinse that the wildling used on her face with such skill. She carefully flushed and painted every scrape and cut, trying to go as gently as possible to avoid too much pain. Then she added the rust-colored salve with the same care.
Aallotar hissed occasionally, but for the most part took the discomfort and pain in silence. She watched Mara with luminous golden eyes, hesitating and then stopping any time words began to form. She relaxed a little when time came to bandage everything. “Close enough to fit well, gentle enough not to cut the tide of blood through veins,” Aallotar instructed. “The clots are made, no need for more pressure.”
“Thanks,” Mara said quickly. She made certain to be careful as she bound up Aallotar’s wounds using the rolls of old gauze that were tucked in the satchel.
“We should speak,” Aallotar said reluctantly as Mara worked.
“About?” the huntress asked. She kept her hands moving so the process would be over sooner and Aallotar would be able to rest more comfortably without someone fussing over her.
The wildling pulled in a deep breath. “The beast.”
Mara looked up from bandaging. “Only if you want to.” She wasn’t about to put pressure on Aallotar, not with her own past full of unpleasant realities that she wasn’t keen to discuss.
Aallotar nodded. She hesitated for a moment, gathering courage together. “It is a curse we suffer. Agony and rage forever, never knowing peace,” she said softly. “Once, the mage who gave me these balms, this knowledge, sought to break it. While he could still my fury for a time, he could not change my form. He was an old man when I knew him, but he taught me much: to move, to speak, to understand.”
“So you were always in that form?” Mara asked, thinking again of the wolf-like beasts in the clearing.
“For all my days. The fury returned after he died as if it had never been touched,” Aallotar admitted. “Until...you.” She shook her head slightly. “My thoughts cleared, my heart calmed, my soul stilled, even my body became what it was meant to be. I do not know why or how.”
“I have an answer for you,” Mara said. It was strange to think of her own curse as anything beneficial. “I can break spells. Just being near me severs the connection between magic and the Weave.”
“Could you break it forever?” Aallotar asked, hope glowing to life in her golden eyes.
Mara hesitated. “That’s a good question. I don’t know,” she admitted. She didn’t like that she couldn’t just say yes. “It’s always just happened. I can’t control it.”
Aallotar leaned forward, touching her forehead to Mara’s. “Yes or no, you are a wonderful soul,” she said sincerely. “Always I will be grateful for the peace you bring, the lull in the storm.”
“So that other creature was…” Mara stopped before she could say it. She understood death and war, though she was not allowed anywhere near the warriors on the war-path, where she might weaken their powers before battle. Aamu and Gaius both had taught her many lessons about the end of life, in their very different ways.
“He was like me,” Aallotar acknowledged, something in those words small and hurting. “The rage is uncontrollable, but even more so near the blood of mennskr. The beast within craves it.”
“You were defending us,” the huntress said gently. She straightened up slightly. “We’ll break your curse, Aallotar. We’ll find a way.”
Aallotar’s entire expression softened. “Thank you.”
Mara knew that meant she would have to do the thing she dreaded most: returning home to Sjaligr. It would be a while before Aallotar was healed enough for her to leave, however. She flashed the wildling a smile. “I guess there is a way for me to repay your kindness after all.”
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