Witch's Marsh prorsus

germanicus set a course to follow a small herd of deer from the pagan wood. led by a ferocious young stag in his prime, the little band had thus in their ranks three fawns. unhurried, unhungry, the soldier only trailed them. he searched also of course for the boy alsek, whose traces had not been recovered.

three fawns, six does. in the stench of a bristling place he lost them, a haunted place marked by withered cattails and islands of firm-seeming ground. but it would surely dissolve beneath you, and still he could not turn away, testing the air for the little one's trail.

Ico had embarked upon a trek up North to clear his head and gather his thoughts. Some abstract part of him hoped he'd rediscover the Broken Boulder, where all this had begun — but he knew it was too far away, besides which he'd inadvertently ended up travelling in quite the wrong direction. Speaking of inadvertent, the hungry fay soon began to realise he was on the trail of a small herd. But as this revelation hit him, he did not speed up for the stalk — he slowed. He was not a Ulysses. He couldn't take down so much as a fawn.

But what if...?

Slowly, Ico began to regain his pace, moving cautiously, following the scent until he saw some of the deer through the trees up ahead; in sight, but only just. But then he saw something else far off to the left. Something unfamiliar, silver, and — even from here — painfully handsome. A hunter type. A loner, probably. Ico was closer to and upwind from the herd, and he had the higher ground. Geographically speaking, he had an advantage over the silver other. But little Ico was no contender and he knew it; and so he slowed that pace once again, seeming almost to freeze as he watched the stranger.

it was not the trail of the boy he found, but the flower-tinged scent of a stranger. germanicus cut his hard gaze immediately to the newcomer. lithe, willowy, pale as the underside of a goddess' hand. the eaglebound's ears tipped forward despite his military mien; he came closer at once, striding up along the edge of the sunken forest with a confident step.

for now, his numbers paused. the whitebark guard was intrigued to find that it was not a woman who stood at hand, but a cherubic princeling, dipped in an elegant gilding of creamy moonlight, cinnamonbark eyes. "hunt with me."

Ico became still, and watched with wide-eyes as the stranger noticed him and approached. Perhaps it would be wise for a small, lone thing like Ico to flee, but he was never one to flee — never. Not because he was some bold and precarious wayfarer (because he really wasn't), but because he was too curious, always far too curious to flee.

The man reminded him, irresistibly and outlandishly, of the Broken Boulder. Ico would later suppose it was his grandness, his stony expression, and the unsolved puzzle guarded by his cold grey exterior. And while there was a simple command in his words, there was something else to them — it was as if he wanted to incorporate Ico into this moment. But why? Ico was only Ico.

And Ico really was no hunter.

But because of the curiosity that bound him to this Earth and to this moment, the wide eyes blinked, and he nodded, but the young storyteller was silent, ready to remain so and to simply follow the stranger's beckoning lead.

a growing pleasure draped itself around germanicus as the little dryad fell into step with him. the soldier would have have wished a hunting partner, not in this creature. he would allow no blood to color the vestal hues of the moonlit boy. infused with a determination that kept him silent a long moment, eventually the guard found his voice.

"you are a stranger here," he observed quietly, directly. he had not seen any hint of this creature in the lands he himself inhabited, and there seemed an ethereal cloaking of unknown trees around the purity of the pale robes.

Ico felt intensely affected by the grey wolf's presence, perilously inclined to do whatever was asked of him — a move he was fearful of, because Ico was no hunter, and to follow the scent of prey was to find there either injury or humiliation. But still the gossamer youth followed.

As to the voice, which he felt tremulously in his fragile bones, Ico blinked ahead shyly. Yes, sir. I'm of the pack Ursus, down South. The statement of belonging didn't bring him as much pride as it used to. Are... are you a traveller? he asked softly, his deep curiosity about this man clashing with his self-conscious instinct to fall silent.

he did not know this ursus, but the name was logged for any need he might have in the future. "i am from the stream of whitebark," germanicus rejoined formally. "there i am a guard. here i am a hunter," he revealed. there was an innocence to his companion that he did not understand; it was not feminine, but it was not the mien of the hardened men with whom germanicus had kept company all his life.

something different, then. "may i ask your name?" the eaglebound inquired after a beat of time, keeping senses tuned to the air while his half-sun gaze traveled back, compelled, to the snow-clothed boy.

It was perhaps evident that Ico wasn't paying the least bit of attention to the prey being tracked. His attentions were drawn entirely to the silvery fellow — the Guard from the Stream of Whitebark — even while shyly avoiding eye contact. He'd never heard of Whitebark, but it cut a clear visual in his mind. He was always intrigued to know of other packs in the area, and wonder how they compared to Ursus.

Ico, he replied, glancing hopefully at the tall hunter-guard in search of something to call him when he thought back on him later. Already he imagined something hard and dignified and formal. He was a Vincent or a Dirk or an Apollo...

he could not quite catch the boy's eye, and soon gave up trying. content only to share the sylph's soft company, he folded the name into his ears. ico. an echo of a title, somehow fitting for the boy.

"germanicus," he muttered in return. he had become aware of his own namesake's ponderous nature compared to those of this land. but he would not abbreviate himself.

Ico's name was a shadow of simplicity compared to that of Germanicus, who met expectations with a name that felt more like a description than anything else. Ico really could be prone to idolization, and so it was with this stony fellow, the guard with watchful eyes.

And one of the most intriguing things about him was that he was not of Ursus — he was from beyond, a world about which Ico had offered wondered even as he settled in the Valley. Such was his curiosity that he could not help but speak it, even though he was sure Germanicus would prefer they fall silent and focus on the hunt.

May I ask... what is the Stream of Whitebark like?

"it is a quiet place. a family place. many children. many mothers. i have seen no imminent danger." he did not speak of alsek in this moment, for he believed such an admission might harm artyom and his reputation.

"an abundant place," he went on, scanning for the herd he had been counting. "not much work for a guard." his eyes fell upon ico once more. "what of ursus?"

Quiet. Abundant. Peaceful. Rich in children and mothers. Although still shy about eye contact in this moment, Ico's eyes lingered on Germanicus' stony visage, fascinated. Whitebark sounded like... well, it sounded a little like what Ico had fantasised about when he'd imagined a home, a place to stay put.

But no, Ursus was his home, the only pack that had taken him in after two hard rejections. But despite this, perhaps Germanicus would notice some tone of loneliness in his androgynous voice as he explained; Ursus is a strong pack, young but ambitious. It has a spiritual foundation, but it's wild, tumultuous... much work for a guard, he concluded gently, more as a neat callback than to recommend the pack to the young hunter.

Ico glanced ahead again, intending to find comfort in the mid-distance, but instead his ear tilted as he spotted something near a clump of trees. It looked like it could be a grazing doe.

ico was the sort who was quietly observant. germanicus admired this privately as he tuned into his companion's alert and followed the line of his stare toward the doe. he made mental note of her; a mother to a fawn, perhaps the second wife to the proud buck that surely was not far off.

"i am counting them," he murmured. "they came from whitebark land, and i wanted to see where they are going." but his belly had begun to ache for a meal, or perhaps clenched with bundled nerves at the nearness of the boy. "i came from a similar place," germanicus said, beginning to steer their route opposite of the herd where easier prey might be found. "that is why i find whitebark suitable. it is a rest."

A rest, Ico repeated quietly, barely realising he was saying this aloud. His wants were similar to those of Germanicus, but not quite the same; Ico did not want a respite perchance to delve back into chaos at some later date. He wanted a restful life. A life in which "adventure" was a new litter of puppies in the pack, rumours of a fascinating newcomer, or a scouting expedition into handsome mountains.

Not a riverside battle, an over-worked healer and a dead dog.

I'd love to hear your story, he chanced bashfully, but he also appreciated now was perhaps not the time. For the tall guard was honing in on something; either the herd he'd been tracking, or something in the lush areas surrounding.

a rest. he chanced a look toward the snowbound young orator, who perhaps did not yet understand his penchant for speaking. but the wistful nature of his tones suggested a level of unhappiness. germanicus split off his focus upon their tracking to give a quick smile. "i have never been asked for my story before," the centurion rejoined.

"i suppose i was born. i was a child. i became a man," he began, the barest hint of teasing to his voice. "i served in my father's army and have always been a soldier." there was nothing else to tell — not to ico. not today. he would not have this vested moment dashed. "do you keep lore?"

For a moment there was a beat of eye contact, and the cool hunter's dashing face broke into a smile.

He's smiling at me he's smiling at me he's smiling at me hessmilingatme help.

Feeling ever so discombobulated, but forcing his mind back to the tangible now, Ico felt himself smile in return and he listened to a tale told in bullet points. Newborn. Child. Man. Army. The revelation that Germanicus hailed from a highly disciplined world explained much about the way he carried himself.

I... I do keep lore, Ico replied, visibly surprised that his calling had been so accurately pinpointed. Or at least I try to. And while you may think your history is very straightforward, I find it fascinating. I've never met a soldier before.

"is that the truth?" germanicus mused, suddenly unsure of what to do with the spice-eyes, the intrigue that flared through ico's pretty face. it was, again, as though a bold woman were looking upon him, some string of the divine feminine worked through his companion. he did not understand, and felt heat lick beneath his collarbones.

"it is not interesting work at all," he assured ico. "patrols. councils. endless meetings. if your land had many guards, as mine did, then there was no reason for war. and when war came, it was too swift to be called much of anything." it was perhaps the longest he had spoken to a stranger; germanicus rolled his shoulders in a shrug and pulled ahead somewhat, seeking the trail of nearby hares.

For a man of so few words, Germanicus was perhaps inadvertently expressive in the picture he painted. For Ico could imagine it well; grey wolves stationary upon valleytops, calmly talkative in a circle of counsel, barking orders as a menace approached. Ico wanted to survey all such things, and weave it into a story.

I happen to like councils and meetings... he confessed with a hint of coquettish light-hardheartedness, but then he caught the same scent Germanicus did — rabbit. No... hare. Ico felt a different kind of nervousness now, convinced that in the inevitable hunt ahead he would display nothing short of incompetence.

"you would have enjoyed the conversation, i think," germanicus responded, considering how carefully the forest sprite had thus chosen his words. another swift expression that did not linger long enough to be called a smile, and the eaglebound put his muzzle to the earth. in time the hushed gold of his eyes alit upon a still figure with tall, quivering ears.

a pointed look that bid ico remain as he was; again, germanicus had only wanted companionship till this moment, and his honed body moved in spurts of speed upon the terrain until he let himself be unreined, and swept down upon the hapless thing before the hare could scream.

two snaps and it was over. the guard nosed the warm soft body and then looked toward the pallid seraph, a single lash of his tail sighted in invitation.

Ico went still as Germanicus did, as if a wind had suddenly halted and they were surrounded by an incredible quiet. Ico hung back as bid, watching, alert and twitchy, as the large ex-soldier cut a fleeting trail towards his quarry — and then the deed was done, almost as quickly as the action had begun.

Heart thumping as if he'd been the one to give chase, Ico approached — only to fall still as he spotted something in the ferns. Another hare. This one much smaller. Acting on instinct and some desire to enact a lesson the moment he'd learned it, Ico broke into a slow, low run, and then sped up suddenly as he neared the creature, ivory body sleek and flying true like a darting arrow, until —

He lost confidence. He didn't know whether to go right or left or attempt to grab it head-on, so he skidded to a light halt in the dust, and the young hare vanished. I knew that would happen, Ico whispered to himself shamefully. I shouldn't even — Yeah, he shouldn't even have tried.

Ico turned back to Germanicus and his bigger, better, successful prey, and hoped that somehow — miraculously — he'd missed the whole charade.

germanicus watched as ico lunged for a second gusting body, missed, and turned wholly sheepish beneath his own gaze. the soldier lifted his kill and returned to the vestal boy with it, gesturing in the direction the luckier hare had gone.

"when you wear white, you are easily seen. hunt in the shadows of the forest, or in the evening. darkness will break the outline of your body so you cannot be spotted so quickly." as he spoke in a gruff, hushed tone, the guard found he could not keep the quiet yellow of his eyes from flickering over ico's figure, returning to the limpid young gaze.

Of course Germanicus had seen the show of folly, and Ico wilted at knowing this; but the handsome hunter did not laugh at him, or point out his flaws, or call him a flaw in and of himself. Instead, he offered practical advice that had never previously occurred to the boy.

Come to think of it, the few times he had managed to catch something had been under cover of darkness...

Thank you, he breathed. For the advice. I've... always had trouble with these more helpful skills. Hunting, fishing, fighting. Things like that. Ico was more of a soulful being, not suited to the vital reality of dog-eat-dog.

germanicus nodded. "if you are not taught, how will you know?" a lingering look, and then he fell to his meal, ravenous and ready for a distraction from ico's watchful, knowing gaze. in time he leant back, leaving the choicer parts for his fair companion, and lapped blood from his lips.

not for the first time, he had nothing to say. and yet the eaglebound did not wish to stare. he turned his gaze toward the horizon, considering whitebark and that he did not wish to return to its soft recesses yet. but what of ico? germanicus was unsure of the sensation, and thus was quiet, warm.

Out of low-level submission and ever-growing respect, Ico hung back so that Germanicus could eat first. It was his kill after all, and one that Ico would remember for some time. But having not eaten for a day, he did not hesitate long when invited forward, and took a delicate bite from the decimated hare, pulling out a few strands of sinew and enjoying the meat. To his blushing surprise, some of the best parts of the animal were still remaining; but Ico took only a modest amount nonetheless. As he ate, he thought of those wise words, and how often he wished he could be taught skills he was judged for lacking.

And he was very conscious of their close proximity, alert to how tall Germanicus stood in his peripheral vision, and how rich his fur was under the high sunlight. Ico felt a tingling of nerves around the nape of his neck.

He swallowed, and looked up to see the older male gazing at the horizon, statuesque. Are you... thinking of home? As ever, Ico could not help but voice his curiosity.

He did not clarify if by "home" he meant Whitebark or his militaristic birthpack.

home. the sunlit lands of editum, wherein germanicus had been born. where he had served. where — "i was thinking that i have not met a man who commands the eye as you do." a simple honesty, but one the soldier had not meant to give. yet it was necessary to turn ico down another path before they came upon wounds half-scarred on the surface of the eaglebound's heart.

he looked down to see how delicately the boy had treated the kill, mincing bites that scarcely could have filled the lithe body. but there came no comment; germanicus merely smiled inwardly, holding ico in his stare once more. "what thought have you in your own head?"