Chapter Text
Between the thick trees and bushes it would be almost impossible to spot the dark hollowed stone if one didn't know where to look.
But Mal and her companion has been here before. It's a familiar cave in the midst of a huge forest, and once again they huddle inside. The wet drops from their bodies soaks the dirt floor. The rain outside is heavy and thick, but also warm enough to prevent Mal from feeling cold.
The forest thrives in the rain. Mal can almost not recognise her old forest. The impossibly thick branches and vines is brimming with life with the way they cascade upwards as if to reach the precious drops just a little bit sooner. The green and brown has almost replaced the darkening sky with the forest coming to life. Yet, the colours start to darken with the fast approaching twilight, as the red and orange light in the sky gives the heavy raindrops a glowing shimmer.
It's beautiful.
However, being here is not about beauty. Mal knows that soon the shallow cave will turn completely dark. The sun will disappear behind the horizon, and the light of the full moon won't be able to penetrate the thick blanket of lush forest. For despite the rain, it is the need for hiding that is the main purpose of Mal and Samhal huddling together with the shelter of stone and dirt around them.
Mal looks at her companion. Her sharp eyes utilizing the last bit of light before it disappears.
She sees his dark unkempt hair framing his face, hard at work of keeping the wet drops of water from running down his forehead. A line of raised skin runs from his hairline and down almost vertically across his closed eye and doesn't stop until it reach his jaw. The scar is deep. It's made even more prominent by the way it breaks and skews the dark intricate lines that covers his face. A full drawing that Mal knows reflects the state of her own face.
"We'll stay for the night. Hopefully the rain has abated by then." Samhal's deep voice fills the smaller cave. A carefree hand comes up to rub the water out of his pointy ears. It's his habit. He claims the ears dry out and flake if he doesn't care for them, though Mal has never seen them flake despite the numerous times he's been too busy running away to dry them properly.
Samhal notices her stare and gives her a wry smile.
To Mal, the look she gets convey his thoughts as if they were printed on his forehead. She has had a wealth of time interpreting these glances, though her stomach still persist with its fluttering. It's almost embarrassing, if it wasn't so wonderful.
Moving closer along the dusty ground. Her hand brush Samhal's as she reach for his ears, stroking the bridge of them up and down, replacing his own movements earlier.
His deep groan comes at the exact moment she knew it would.
They have the night to themselves. A comfort they have not afforded for some time, as they've fled, hid, and prayed for luck to keep them from being found. It's not until today that they've both felt secure in the knowledge of their hunters resting. They both knew they would get their break from the pursuit at some point, but the relief that it's here is immense nonetheless.
Samhal curls his arm around Mal's waist. Shifting until his body is pressing along hers. He's strong, and to Mal, he means her safety.
He brings his face against her hair that's been darkened by water. A soft smile plays on his lips. He keeps still for a long time, while stroking Mal's hair with a lazy and comforting hand.
Right now it's all that Mal needs. His pure comfort soothes her body to rest, just like a lullaby without music or words. She takes his hand in hers, twisting their fingers together. Finding soothing joy in this stolen moment for them both.
Leaning down again Samhal puts his mouth against Mal's ear. The hot breath tingles her skin. He whispers in a low voice that should have made Mal smile, if it weren't for the content of the words.
"We should cross the plains tomorrow. Meet up with the others." Mal can't stop the tension rising in her weary body. Tension Samhal must have tried to prod out of her before having this conversation.
Her soft smile is quickly replaced with a stern line. She knows that the plains leaves little cover should their hunter manage to track them. They will have to move as fast as their legs can carry them across the traitorous landscape, and even then it's a risk.
Though if they want to take the chance on the plains Mal knows that there is no better time than now.
"Do you think it's really necessary?" she whispers, trying to keep the calm in her voice. Samhal knows her so well, she knows that she's most likely failing. But that doesn’t stop her from trying.
She feels Samhal tightening his grip in an attempt at comfort, which is as much of an answer to her question as she needs. They have to go.
Mal knows that meeting with the rest of the clan across the plains would be best. After all, the chance of surviving is greater in a larger group, as lone pray has little to offer in resistance should they be found. The problem is that in a bigger group they attract more hunters. Attacks are more frequent, and coordination's and tactics they have to face is far more developed. In almost every attack there is a sacrifice.
Mal has seen many die due to her enemies planned chaos that erupts suddenly and without warning.
"I'll keep you safe." Samhal rumbles, and Mal can feel the vibrations in his chest against her back. It feels pleasant, as he knows it is. She hadn't expected them to be able to stay together for this long, but now that they have she is immensely glad. Her trust in him providing her drops of joy while she's on a constant run.
She also knows of Samhal's special abilities.
He has managed to tap into the magic that is embedded in the world. A magic that flows in a steady constant through nature, people, and animals alike. Mal has always been able to feel the energy. It's there, a part of her just out of her reach.
Mal was there when Samhal spent immeasurable time feeling the pulse running through himself. Trying, and mostly failing, at leading the energy in the direction of his will. She was there when a huge grin appeared on his face, the only warning she had before she felt the energy shift. Subdued to his imagination.
As a result, his speed is now unmatched amongst his peers. And while his speed is invaluable for him as he needs to run during the hunt, it also opens up the use of tactics. With the right strategy he can change the course of the hunt to his own advantage.
Samhal starts stroking her hair again. His hand moving down from her shoulder to her back and waist. It's soothing and warm. The hand manages to pry the worried thoughts out of her mind until she falls asleep in his arms.
--------------
Mal wakes up suddenly. Eyes opens with alarm, though her senses tells her that nothing has changed in the shallow cave. The sound of rain is a constant drum, while the pressure of Samhal's arms is the same, softly changing with the timing of his breath.
Yet she knows that someone is outside. Feels it as if the presence was right before her eyes as her nerves are screaming at her of danger. It's a feeling that has saved her numerous times, and she's not about to ignore her instincts now.
Keeping still she tries to reach out with her senses. Feel for anything that can give her a warning of what is outside. She hopes that it's just a dangerous animal, and that by keeping still it will pass without noticing their cave.
Her eyes aren't much use in the dark, but with her ears she tries to hear something through the thundering rain. Samhal then turns unnaturally still. His breathing quiets to barely a whisp of air, not a sound coming out even to Mal's own ears. He slowly lifts his hand. Mal starts to feel careful circles on her arm. The touch is soft and deliberate, and before he is done Mal knows their meaning.
The hunt is here. The priests are out for their blood.
She has seen it many times as others have been caught. The desperate plea in the victims, ebbing out into nothing as life leaves their bodies with a sharp glow of their vallaslin. It's her own fate if she lets herself get caught, but she won't let that happen. She doesn't want to die.
Keeping still she prays. Silent words running through her mind for luck to turn to her and not the priests outside. The cave is hidden. It's the sole reason they chose it, yet the priests are skilled. Living their entire lives for the single purpose of catching their targets, Mal knows that all it takes is a shift of the leaves with the wind, a parting of the clouds at the right moment when the priests look their way, and the shallow cave will be revealed.
She doesn't dare move, but it doesn't matter.
The hit is sudden. One moment in complete stillness, and the next spent in horror.
Mal feels Samhal twist to the side as a force crash down where his head used to be, a mere fingerbreadth away from Mal. A foot kicks her hard and painful, and she is flying out into the dark green forest. Not a moment is given for her to react to the impact. The landing is rough as branches slice into her skin, but panic prevents her from feeling pain.
"Run!"
The cry from Samhal reach her ears right before the all too familiar sound of metal piercing skin. Between the green leaves she sees a glow of light from the cave. A light that can only come from the vallaslin of a dying slave. A sharp shimmer illuminates the horrifying forms of hunters looking down at their pray in religious satisfaction.
Then the light disappears impossibly fast. Nothing is left but dark hues in the thick forest.
Yet there is no time to think. No time to let the impressions and implications sink into her shallow form as her instinct to run kicks in full force. Stumbling up she lets her legs carry her forward, away from the former safety of the cave.
The sound of her heart pounding shuts out the forest as she moves forward as fast as she can. Legs beating quickly down upon the unyielding bushes and roots, though she fears it's not fast enough. She sees a soft light shimmer from above her head. A green glow too bright to come from vegetation and too high up to come from her pursuers. The light makes it possible to see where she can place her feet on the roots and branches, helping her move faster through the thick forest.
Then she feels a sharp rupture. Like her whole chest is split apart at the seams, flesh and bones with it.
The pounding of her heart that was prominent in her ears stop, and looking down she sees a soft green light on the metal poking through her chest. Then the light grows sharper. It dances on the sword, with vivid plays of light and movement. The spectacle seems otherworldly. A beautiful play of lighting for her view alone.
Then the ever constant thrum in her body stops. Her magic, the power she has never been able to utilize, is ripped away from her core.
At the same time, the green light in the sky grows impossibly bright. The forest around her sags as if all life has been ripped out of it in an instant, just like what happened to Mal's own body.
Her killer, the priest and hunter that now finally made reality of her nightmares screams in agony behind her. The last thought Mal has before oblivion takes her is that the God of Revenge must have finally heard her call.
At least she'll drag her killers with her into the void.