Pre-hunt <3
The sheer number of wolves attending the hunt had Anathema skirting along the sidelines, feeling left out but simultaneously overwhelmed. She wanted to speak with some of them, introduce herself — but at the same time she did not. What if they disliked her?
Instead she kept close to the wolves of Brecheliant, drifting between Maia and
@Bronte. It was the latter whose side she ultimately settled at, watching the crowd with wide eyes. She brushed her shoulder against the other girl's flank silently, glancing over at her to see what she made of it all.
Bronte was not nearly as intimidated as Anathema was, but she was still nervous nonetheless. She felt a little overwhelmed by the crowds and the unfamiliar faces. More to her concern was taking on one of those lumbering beasts.
Seated atop the crest of a gentle slope, she admired the snow covered plains and the wolves mingling. Her eye, every so often, darted uncertainly towards the distant bison. She accepted Anathema with a warm welcome, happy to soothe her nerves in any way she could.
Gently, she preened behind her ear. "You nervous about the hunt? Those animals are huge, even from here..."
Bronte was a soothing presence. Anathema clicked idly as the girl spoke, watching the crowd again. When she mentioned the hunt, however, her eyes found the bison.
They were huge. Yes,
Ana confirmed, punctuating the statement with a series of rapid clicks. They could kill us.
A simple statement, nearly toneless in its delivery, but underneath it was fear. She'd been thinking of meeting others when she agreed to the hunt; she hadn't thought of the hunting part at all until now. Maybe she should have stayed home.
"Yeah...they could." She agreed with the hard truth. There was always a risk in any hunt. "I am kind of excited." She couldn't help but lean in slightly against Anathema's side, sharing her warmth.
"It is a risk, but hey. There are plenty of adults around. I am sure they won't let anything happen to us. And just think of all the extra food we will have if we pull this off!" She nudged her shoulder gently, trying to shine some optimism on the daunting situation.
Anathema tried to take comfort in Bronte's reassurances, but all she could think was that the adults were in just as much danger. She bit back the urge to say it. I prefer fish,
The darkling mumbled instead, thinking sullenly of the island.
Her eyes finally found Bronte. Promise you'll be careful,
The horror of imagining her friend's death almost matched the horror of picturing her own. It struck her then that they could just leave, that they didn't need to face this danger — but Ana knew that Bronte would never agree. No one ever chose her. Why would that change now?
Fish.
The word brought a little smile to Bronte's lips. "My mother is a skilled fisher. There's never any shortage at the lake back home." She commented, hopeful that Anathema's interest may be piqued.
"Of course. I promise I will be." Then, as an afterthought "Don't feel pressured to join in if you don't want to. You can still learn a lot just by watching."
An idea crept into her head. "Hey, when we get back, there's an island at the center of the lake. Maybe we can go there sometime. Get some fishing practice in." Bronte would like that. Time alone, one on one with her friend. They could be together. Chat. Play. Just be, without worry.
Relief followed the promise, and her eyes dropped as her friend continued. Ana was never sure what to make of Bronte. The girl was kind and pretty, friendly in an easy way; as if it was in her nature to be so. All of these things sparked a gnawing green flame deep in her gut. Yet Bronte had gone out of her way to befriend Anathema. She tried to comfort her. She invited her to do things like practice fishing.
Why?
Anathema fell into contemplation, clicking idly while she mulled over the words. An island. She didn't want to see any island. Surely it could not compare to her island, a vast and beautiful place she could hardly recall anymore. But Bronte was trying to be nice.
We can do that,
She decided after a small silence. She opened her mouth as if she meant to say more, but no words came to her. Instead she took up the clicking again, faster this time. Her thoughts were like worms. Burrowing. Insistent.
If we don't all die.
She was no mind reader. She had no idea that her suggestion wasn't quite as appealing as she thought it might be. Bronte did not question the silence bouncing between them, or the peculiar clicks so common of her friend.
She did as she always had done. Accepted her as she is.
But her gloomy words did not sit so well with her. Pressing back a sigh, she bumped Ana's shoulder. "We won't. We just have to be careful. And if you don't want to join in, no one will force you." Another of her positive spins on a negative.
Her eyes trailed the bison, imagining what the not so distant future held for the wolves.