Iktome Plains wuskripa

the night before she had crossed a swamp.
the morning dawned on a vast plain which seemed to race in all directions. the air was warm, and in it was the taste of salt. heda inhaled. her stomach growled.
over the past several weeks she had been feeding herself birds and small animals, with the exception of a half-rotten deer she had found. that had fed her for several days.
but now she had come to the verdant expanse, and saw its potential.
her silver-smudged eyes swept the horizon for any danger.

bartholomew would be no danger.

well, perhaps he was, if he pondered it too long. he wondered how many lives he had ruined. dove, abraham, jacob. they came to mind. the family he had crumbled apart.

he thought of wayward women, of souls he may have not been able to save.

so he sat alone with God and found some sense of relief. he should have done this sooner. stayed in the dark longer and built his faith back up alone. no one would see his righteousness if he did not nurse it.

but there was a holy fire on the horizon in the form of a young woman. he did not move from his seated spot, but he watched her openly and carefully.

it was not prey which appeared, but a vaguely wolven form. it stayed where it was, casting a shadow. as she drew closer, the sharp angles of its body became softer, and eventually rolled into mahogany tresses. 
the yellow eyes were kind. her own golden stare roved over his body. heda was still. "draw a picture. it will last longer."
he smelled of neither pack nor food. and she was empty inside. the iota stirred a single step and then stood still, dragon-hard and unwavering.

a silver tongue, kissed by the Devil.

it was not uncommon for women here, it seemed, and he frowned deeply. a near fatherly look that spoke of disappointment and not anger. she was but a child. not even as old as his own.

his golden gaze turned away from her and back out towards the salted plains.

if she was to strike him down, so be it.

what has soured your heart?

it felt disingenuous to be so mean to someone she didn't even know. but heda had ready doubled down on it.
she snorted and told herself his frown meant nothing.
"well right now i am hungry." heda's eyes were curious as she pondered him, then looked opposite the direction of his own face. "sorry for being a bitch." it didn't feel nice to capitulate, but the swear took the edge off the shame of an apology.
she realized she could no longer smell the summit upon her own coat.

a curse, heavy on her tongue.

briefly it soured his own heart, but this was an opportunity. if he wished to practice his faith here it must be done through action as much as word. how had he been so blind to such a fact?

barbarians did not speak well, but they acted plenty. this method of faith he would practice upon her.

so you ask for a hunter instead, he sought to correct softly. in good faith, i will offer myself to your cause of hunger. will you lead us in a hunt?

golden gaze returned to her, softer but tired all the same.

she noticed that their eyes were similar shades in a swath of gold. perhaps she was only projecting. he was formal and this unnerved her. "uh — yeah. yes. i could use a hunter. and yes. i will."
she skulked off at once in a hunter's crouch. a breeze reached across the open land to tear at the red stripe that ran from tip to tail. there were pheasants in the tallest grass, weathering the windstorm that had come from that first gale.
heda slid to her belly.

he had never been much of a hunter.

a man of Godly work, a priest, a father. he had (and would) carried many titles in his life. hunter had never been one. but he remembered the pale man who had hunted for him in his start here and the slyness of his movements.

bartholomew could be a supportive hunter, but never lead one. this he felt okay with.

her red stripe a path for him to follow as he crouched low. up ahead the birds moved unaware. soon they would fall and fill bellies, he hoped.

such an act had to be the highest form of his faith.

her tailtip flicked. her long body disappeared into the brush. heda tipped her head to the left, signaling the man. did he know how to hunt with others?
she was grateful for the lessons taught by the taiga. the hunter moved right. together she hoped to encircle a good part of the nesting flock.

he split to the left.

he remembered the pale hunter even more now. how the hunter had been so kind to listen to the holy ramblings of bartholomew, even in their hunting moments. perhaps, he thought, it should be hunters he acted in faith upon.

warriors too harsh for the willow of his body and soul.

pray we catch many, pray she finds some healing from this kindness.

he was opposite of her now as the birds seemed to still. golden eyes looked for her own, awaiting her sign.

pray this is swift, My Lord.

heda looked at the shift of feathers, here, there, right, left — she leapt suddenly and foxlike.
did she know how to hunt with others?
and that was the only signal, the flash of her reddened tail into the brilliant air. the birds lifted. she spat away the lifeless one caught in her teeth and sprang up again, snapping among their guttering tailfeathers and flailing wings.
blood rained down upon her.

he will succeed!

it was a horrible, beautiful sight.

she sprang forth and soon enough there were feathers and blood upon her. he wondered if his prayer had been heard for how swift she struck.

he followed in her movements.

a snapping of his teeth at a wing and the one opposite battered him for it.

grant me swiftness, grant me strength. Your greatness is shown in my actions.

hollow bones crunched in his mouth and although he had not downed the bird fully just yet, it would not escape either. not easily. by the grace of God, he would feed them. he would feed his soul.

*robust cheering*

two.
her mouth overflowed.
her teeth were red with it.
she turned to see him downing another, and curbed herself; the young heart raced and her jaws parted in a pant. the dragon-eyes watched him in silence as down and pinfeathers floated down like some accursed snowstorm.

we thank You for Your sacrifice of Your creation.

he found no pleasure in what came next, teeth moved from wing to neck. a snap, a well of crimson in his mouth. it drenched and darkened the highlights of his fur.

he felt every bit of a barbarian — but swiftly reminded himself that this was for a cause. there was nothing more pious than feeding the hungry.

he looked to her. both of them bloodstained, a dusting of feathers surrounded them.

will you let me pray over your meal, hunter?

heda dragged her pheasants together, ears flicking at the sound of his own jaws ending his own target. three fowl. she arranged them in a row on some whim. his words caught her off guard. "pray?" she echoed, her voice resounding emptily across the flat sea-prairie.
heda's ears splayed. she gestured at the animals. "sure. uhum, do whatever you want." just as well. the sooner she could eat she sooner she could leave this soft-voiced, shaggy weirdo who asked to pray over a pile of dead birds.
she swept her tail tightly around her forepaws, waiting in the familiar hunch of a gargoyle for the man to go on.

we are blessed to be provided for so greatly, he murmured, soft and seated as his tired eyes closed.

i pray You soothe this hunter's hunger, now and forever. a heavy pause of silence. his eyes would open once more with something lighter in them now. a great relief, how wonderful it felt to do right again.

thank you. he gestured to her with the slim of his muzzle with full expectancy of her devouring her meal now. she had earned them. she had earned the blessings of God.

bartholomew only wondered if she would stay or leave immediately.

heda listened, her appetite dying in her gut. she toyed with saliva-stiffened feathers, hungry but suddenly tired and unmotivated enough to eat.
there was a pause, during which she looked up. he hadn't started yet either. "who are you talking to?" she asked, unable to keep the skepticism from her voice. the birds began to cool in front of her. she slowly cleaned blood from her jaws.

an open a door.

a reward for his faith shown via action. she had seen the rewards of God through him, he thought. now she had a natural interest, not forced upon her by his preaching.

God, he said with warmth. perhaps the first time his voice had not been somber in months. are you familiar?

heda shook her head. "no." her family had been pragmatic, at least up until mahler had surrendered them to go live some cottagecore life with his wife. her aunt, somehow. how weird. how odd. she let out her breath and plucked a mouthful of feathers off a still breastbone.
"you killed that one. and i killed these. so why are you thanking someone else?" her voice was not accusatory, perhaps only tinged with the defiance of the young.

her answer was to be expected. hardly, if ever, did he find himself with a yes to such a question. her own question was valid. smart. thoughtful.

her heart was soured, but her soul was good.

i could not do it without the strength of God...and you, he confessed softly. looked at the work she had done. my faith keeps me strong. it helps me connect with hunters like you and to show that there is still good in a very cruel world.

he thought briefly of tamar.

he wondered if his words had ever proved true, or at least soothed her soul.

she raised her eyebrows disparagingly but found she had nothing to say back. heda busied with eating as she thought, stripping fat from meat and meat from bone, down to the sinew and the marrow. "i like to think i did it alone."
one bird consumed. the other untouched. heda blew a pile of feathers down and patted it in a half-hearted attempt at play, one that faded almost as soon as it had come on.
"i never asked for your name. what is it?"

he noted the words she used. she liked to think. not some defiant triumphant call of a hunter who proclaimed to know it all or do it all.

she was young. minds shifted so much at that age, he knew his had.

for a moment he mindlessly plucked at his own bird. thoughtful in his movements.

bartholomew, he offered with a weak smile. and you, hunter?

"heda."
her lips tipped wryly. "i'm not a hunter. not yet. still learning." she did not know why being in his presence made her feel rather — apologetic.
the young wolf straightened and shook out her hackles. "you were just out here sitting." her face was thoughtful as she set her silver-smudged eyes on him. "were you praying then too?"

you will be a fine hunter one day then, heda.

he wondered how she could claim to not be a hunter when she had picked a bounty for herself in her hunger. it was impressive, it was a glorious sight.

not exactly. his bony toes stretched, grasping for God's earth as if it might ground him. honesty. he needed to live life fully and truthfully. i was considering my path with my faith. where i might go from here.

he took a bite as he waited for her words once more.

his turn to eat. heda tried not to stare. "and what did you decide?"
the way he regarded her caused something in her heart to bruise a little. 
she did not want her success here to make her think she would be successful again. a restlessness swelled in heda. 
she chewed on a bone, something to occupy her teeth if not her mind.