Going Feet First Ch. 02

Shaking her head, she answered, "No, I believe not. Celia told me this morning that she is freshly parted from her clan. Some sort of connection she had was severed to leave her without the sisters she grew up with. Sisters that helped her with what appears to be a delicate subject. You have known her for... how long? A day now?"

Pursing his lips with a sheepish look, he nodded. "Yeah..."

"Then I doubt she would be open yet to you to speak of her troubles," she said with certainty. "Give her time. Do you still wish to know Atzlan history?"

He took one more look in the direction Celia wandered off in, sighing before he looked back to Petra. With a nod and cloud of gloom over him, he sat back down and said, "Yeah, sure. Let's hear it."

"Let's. I explained that our forest has many tribes, and that the River High flows to Redding. It is the source of drinking water for both them and the southern tribes here and how we beat them in the war."

Galen perked up, "War?"

His teacher gave a nod, "Yes. Many years ago, there was a war between Redding and the tribes of Atzla over the gold and ore under our feet. Thousands must have died in the battles and they nearly got a solid hold on the western part of the forest. But at the end of the year, when the snow began to fall, we drove them back and made peace."

Bearing a look of astonishment, the Private asked, "How?"

"The Willhers," Petra answered, but given his visible confusion, she quickly elaborated. "They developed a poison that was resistant to the healing magics of Redding's mages. The city then learned that attacking the people that control your drinking water is a terrible choice. Numbers are not known, but it is said a full quarter of their city and half of their army died. When the nobility of Redding began to die off as well, they came for peace and a cure."

Frowning as he thought of the civilian cost, the Private asked, "Did they get it? The cure?"

"They did, after all their soldiers left the forest and their crown paid a price to the tribes they had nearly wiped out."

"You mean reparations?"

"Yes, those," Petra said, a bit surprised by the amount of thought her 'master' was giving her words and how intently he listened. "Some tribes took crops and livestock. Some took gold or weapons and armor off the fallen. The Ra'zorlich king at the time thought of the future and demanded skilled smiths and miners to teach our people. From his wise demand, our tribe grew powerful, with metalcrafts unrivaled by any in the forest save the Human village far, far in the north east."

Nodding at this, Galen pondered on her tale for a few moments before another question came to him. "How did your forest alliance turn into your tribe killing outsiders on sight?"

"Greed," the Neko answered simply. "We had metal working, so others wanted it as well. The other tribes would pester us to share this knowledge, and when they grew impatient of our refusals, threatened violence and even tried to steal our new artisans. So we slaughtered the aggressors and closed our lands to any who did not bear the symbol of the red claw. Since then, we continue to kill any who enter our borders, and make examples of those who try to change that."

"Harsh," Galen commented.

"It was necessary to keep the parasites out. We Ra'zorlichs had spilled the most blood and sacrificed the most lives in the fight against Redding. The other tribes were ungrateful so now we never leave, and nobody ever comes in."

It was then that a realization dawned upon him. "Wait a second, if no one ever leaves, how do you know the forest so well? Why do you speak Human?"

The Neko paused for a moment, sighing as a shamed look came over her face. "To become a Shadow Stalker, I had to memorize every inch of this forest and learn the language of at least one foe. Five years of my life were spent wandering around Atzla, mapping it out in my mind. Every tribe, every landmark, every possible corner prey could hide. As for my knowledge of Human..."

She paused a moment, shuddering at her vivid memories. "When I slept one night, Human bandits came upon me. They tied me up, tortured me... stole my purity. A month I suffered from them before a force from Atzla's Humans came down upon them. When they found me in a pool of my captors' blood, their throats torn open, they took me in. For some time, I lived among Humans until my strength came back. And it was during that time that I learned Human tongue."

Pure and utter shock was plastered to Galen's face as he stared at Petra. Her calm composure wavered for a moment, but her eyes ultimately didn't change, remaining cold, and hard.

"An' you have no qualms talkin' 'bout this? It must've been a terrible experience."

"It was," she admitted with a growl. "But I may as well tell you now. Besides, their torture made me strong, their deaths made me vicious. If I cannot speak of such events without breaking down, then I am not a true Shadow Stalker."

"An' last night?" the soldier probed. "You broke then."

That placid deadpan Petra bore drew tense, her teeth flashing as a Hell's worth of fury brewed in her eyes. Claws emerging from her hands, the assassin snapped, "I had your 'shellshock' to deal with! I was not right in the mind, now I am! Facts are facts and we must live with them! Pasts do not change, they only get conquered."

"Alright, I'm sorry!" Galen said, defensively raising his hands. "Ya don' need to yell, I didn' mean t' insult ya. It took strength to carry on like you did, 'specially after shit like that. But if there's anythin' you ever wanna talk about, or anythin' that bothers you, just talk to me. I'll listen."

Several moments passed as Petra froze, trying to wrap her mind around what she was hearing. This Human was different indeed.

"Are we rested?" Celia's voice interrupted as she emerged from the brush to rejoin them, her golden glow at full strength and the gloom gone from her features.

"Yeah, I'm good," Galen answered. "Are you okay now?"

The Elf nodded. "I am. I just needed some time to think and cheer up. But now I'm ready to leave. 'Make tracks' as you said."

Carefully watching her expression for any hint of whatever made her walk off, he was tempted to ask her what it was about her mother had made her so upset. But that idea quickly went away as he recalled how she nearly cried at the mere broaching of the subject. It would have to be something for them to discuss another time.

The group wordlessly made their preparations to leave. Still lost in her own thoughts, Petra dusted the dirt off the back of her legs and grabbed the ammo bag, satchel of shotgun shells, and the shotgun itself. With a bit of a groan from the weight of his ruck, Galen had to brace himself against a tree to get himself upright before grabbing his rifle and adjusting his webbing. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that downed look returning to Celia when she thought his back was turned. Her ears were hanging low, that smile faded as her eyes could not pull up from the ground. Even her aura had died down a bit.

Still, when he was ready to go, she snaked her arms around his bicep and rested her head against his shoulder. He stroked the side of her face, bringing her eyes up to meet his so he could press his lips to her forehead. Both her ears perked up a bit from that, a smile lighting her face.

They still had quite the journey ahead of them.

...............................

It was noon when they heard the flow of water through the trees. Sweating from the miles behind them and the load he carried, Galen hastened his pace to get to the river ahead. Both his female companions fell behind as he rushed ahead and broke from the treeline and onto the sandy bank of the river. Approaching the water front, he pulled out his canteen and downed the last of it before kneeling at the water's edge.

The river wasn't moving particularly fast so there was little challenge to hold onto his canteen as he submerged it. He guessed that the water couldn't have been more than waist depth in the middle and was easily forty feet wide between the banks. Crossing it wouldn't be difficult if he needed to, but the most important thing he found was how the water was crystal clear.

Taking a drink from his canteen and finding no weird taste to it was icing on the cake.

Putting his refilled water container away and dropping his kit, he started to empty his pockets of everything he carried. Things like his zippo, a locket, a letter; everything was pulled out and tucked up into his rucksack. Celia and Petra emerged from the trees just as he started pulling off his boots and socks.

"Taking a swim?" the Elf asked in Nekonian, and he turned to her.

"Just giving my shirt a rinse," he answered, pulling off his tunic and then his T-shirt. The admiration in Celia's eyes for his half-naked form brought a red tint to his cheeks before he turned away. Wading into the water to soak his sore feet, he dunked his rank undershirt and whirled it about.

"So that is what he hides under his jacket," Petra muttered lowly, just loud enough for Celia to hear as she took a seat on the river bank. "Humans don't develop such physique unless they tend a farm or serve an army."

"He is a soldier from the place he comes from," the Elf whispered back. "And from what I've seen at the trials, he has tended a farm growing up as a way to earn money."

Casting a narrow look at her, the Shadow Stalker frowned as she asked, "How much do you know about him? I'm curious."

"Enough," was Celia's reply before she turned to face the Neko. "Part of the trials is seeing the man's past, searching his memories for something that may prove him unworthy. At the end of it, the magic will wipe the memories of what we saw from us for the sake of his privacy, the exception being our Elder and the one who brought him in."

"And you brought him to your people," Petra guessed, glancing to Galen as he used his shirt to wipe down his torso and scrub his face.

"I did. Many of the things I saw gave me great confidence in who he was, and how good a person he is."

"And yet you could not trust him enough to speak with him on your troubles earlier," the Neko chastised, making Celia's eyes widen and her brow rise. "When you may know many of his most intimate secrets."

"It's not like that!" she blurted, trying to keep her voice down to not attract Galen's attention. To her relief, he had been busy scrubbing out his ears and didn't catch her outburst. "I don't want to burden him with what pains me, not when he marches toward a terrible scourge on our forest."

Petra cocked an eyebrow, "So you know who we intend to kill?"

Her golden lips pursing with the last word of that question, Celia bowed her head and sighed as she answered, "Yes. Thieves, bandits, marauders, killers, and slavers. Especially that last one. Fifteen years they began to prey on Atzla; killing and torturing whoever they pleased here before going south to Astiko or east to the prairies. But they would always return, always with more men, and always becoming worse."

It was clear how difficult the conversation was becoming for the Elf in the way she shook and constantly had to wipe tears from her face. As much as she wanted to drop the conversation for the fragile girl's sake, the assassin wanted to know what she knew about her targets, so she asked, "Worse how?"

Swallowing something a taking in a quivering breath, she said, "By taking four of my clan and countless others as slaves. Killing off two whole villages that tried to fight them. They are monsters and I wouldn't want Galen doing something rash for my sake if he learned of my troubles. I just got him, I don't wish to lose him."

"He will find out, you know," Petra warned. "The earlier he knows, the longer he has to calm down. If you wish to keep him, hide nothing from him."

Hearing her Human wring the water out of his shirt while walking toward his pack, Celia quickly worked to rid herself of any evidence that she'd been upset. Getting the trace of tears out of her eyes and bringing her aura back to full light. Taking a deep breath and bringing a light smile to her face, she said, "I understand, thank you, Petra. It's just... I'm living without my clan now. My sisters used to guide me through all troubles, helping me when I hadn't the strength to deal with them myself. When my sisters were stolen from us, I dreamed of the day they would return. I wished to find a warrior strong enough to bring them back and to follow him out into the world beyond our forest. Then I started to want to see what was beyond Atzlar's lands."

Turning to gaze downstream, the Elf continued, "I grew a wanderlust, to go out and see the world just as my Elder did when she was young and some of my sisters did before me. But for them to release me, I needed to have one to love me and guide me through it. I needed the warrior I dreamed of."

"And you found Galen," Petra finished, making Celia nod.

"Through luck, fate, or a Goddess' design, I found him; the one I wanted. I understand that I need to trust him as I did my clan but you have to know I need time for such a thing. Much is changing and not all can do so quickly."

"I understand, Celia. Being parted from your people is no easy thing, but it is best to adapt quickly. This world does not do well for those who are not ready or hesitate, and worse for those who are alone."

When Galen had finished putting on his boots and returning his affects to his jacket pockets, he stuffed the tunic into his ruck and started putting his gear back on. All signs that his Elf had nearly broke down again were gone from her face by the time he came to them to depart. She wordlessly took his hand and they were off again.

...............................

In the middle of a small clearing enclosed by thick underbrush, the torn carcasses of what once had been four teepees surrounded a broad fire pit circled with stones. Woven baskets were torn up and scattered about the wrecked camp with dozens of feathers littering the area like autumn leaves. The stench of death hung in the air with every local bird oddly silent after they had been singing all day. Not even the wind rustled the treetops as two persons moved cautiously into the area to comb through what remained.

Stepping around the cold ashes in the fire pit, Galen kept his rifle at the high ready with his finger ready to disengage the safety. Something was giving him the chills even with the heat and him being redressed in his tunic after his shirt dried out. Between the abundance of abandoned supplies, the brown spatters all around, and the ruined shelters, he knew that something was wrong.

And then there was that terrible feeling in his gut telling him he did not want to be in this place. Something unsettling about the camp was potent enough for Celia to sense as they walked along the River High. Despite his desire to avoid it, she wanted to find out what was wrong with her home forest.

And so here he was investigating.

A saddened whine sounded from his weapon as he crouched down over a pile of old, blood-soaked feathers. It appeared as though several chickens had been cleaned and dressed on the spot, or... perhaps an Avien was relieved of its fluff. It couldn't have been recent as the feathers were sun bleached, and one of the bird-people seemed to be the better bet to be the source as they were too large for any bird he had seen.

Not far to his right, he noticed Petra picking through a food basket and pulling out a strip of dried jerky. After giving it a whiff and probing lick, she bit down on the preserved meat and began to chew while looking over the scene of the camp. She checked the stone tools spattered in crimson and the some claw or drag marks in the dirt. Taking in scents and examining the disturbed earth, the assassin huffed before continuing on.

Sensing a pair of eyes upon him, Galen looked back to a dense piece of brush behind him in the direction of the river. There, Celia hid behind a tree just outside the camp where she was hidden by several dense bushes. It was the safest place for her to be as she could both watch over the packs and keep a look out for anything that may approach from the river.

"Several different races passed through here," Petra declared, tossing a blood-soaked rag on the ground. "The smells are old and faint, but they are of Humans, Aviens, Nekos, and even have traces of Lycan. Whoever raided this place did so with many races working together."

"So it wasn't a tribe," Galen mumbled as he flipped over a bit of canvas to uncover a thoroughly decimated, man-sized bird's nest.

"I've never seen a band that would wipe out a camp like this," the Shadow Stalker noted. "Or would take the bodies away. There would be no plunder here."

When his boot brushed up against something underneath an overturned basket, the soldier bent down to see what. Flipping it over, he found a small, feathered doll that was dirtied and spattered with blood in the dirt. Inspecting the basket itself made Galen's heart sink. His left hand began to tremble as he tried to force down what had to be a golf ball in his throat.

It was a small crib meant for an infant or toddler with its furs and comforts still tightly packed inside like a small nest. Teeth clenched, he shut his eyes and tried not to jump to conclusions about what fate may have befallen the little one. At least until a feather blew down from above and brushed his cheek. The Private opened his eyes and grabbed it, noticing it had a much different shade than the pile behind him.

Then it occurred to him as to where the feather had come. Gut churning inside him, his eyes slowly started to widen as he tilted his head back to the trees above.

"Petra, I found the bodies."

She stopped and looked his way, then followed his gaze upward.

"Ka goltrai..." she growled.

Eight bodies of the camp's inhabitants swung from the highest branches of the trees above them. All of them save for one appeared to be male, and three were so small that he could only assume them to be children. And the longer Galen stared at them hanging in the trees, the heavier his breath became. It was clear now where the feathers behind him had come from as the one hanging female was picked clean of hers.

Heart pounding, Galen's fingers dug into his rifle, causing the weapon to whimper before he promptly ordered it to be quiet. A pained tear traced his cheek as he cursed violently to himself before he turned to his Neko companion. "Can we cut them down?"

"I don't see a clear way to reach them," Petra said doubtfully as she looked to the thinner trunks of the trees and their smooth, white bark. "I don't even know how they were put up there to begin with. It would take an Avien to get that high."

Rage was boiling in his gut as sorrow iced up his chest. The whites of his eyes started going very red as he fought to keep his emotions locked down. Immediately he turned on his heel and marched off to where Celia hid. The Elf scrambled back from him and against a bush as he went straight for his ruck and dug through it. A second later he pulled out the scope he got off of Isle's rifle back in the Willher village.

Careful not to damage anything, he tightened up the screws on the mount the best he could and ensured it was on straight. Then he pulled the bolt partially back to ensure he had a round in the chamber.

There's more than one way to cut them down, he thought before he noticed how terrified Celia was.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he looked to her and said, "You were right about this place. Something bad happened here. I need to do something, and I need you to plug your ears when I point this," he tapped his rifle. "Understand?"