Chapter Text
Loba Andrade’s ship seemed the busiest place on Solace that night. The discreet private hangar – surely leased under a false name – was lit with the warm glow of lamps and lanterns strung high above on thin ropes. The orange and gold light gave the otherwise cold and sparse space a certain coziness; certainly more than usual. People from all across the planet were mingling around the ship, their fine clothes glistening in the lights, each casting half a dozen shadows.
Bloodhound stood a fair distance from the hectic back-and-forth of bodies. They scanned the crowd; their movements were relaxed, yet excited. An unseen energy seemed to permeate the gathering: wealthy people, used to being in control. Used to getting what they wanted. Waiting for some big reveal. They smiled pleasantly at one another, but their eyes were cold and calculating.
Like sharks.
A sudden movement caught their eye. A shimmer of white and gold, a figure moving through the crowd with all the grace and energy of a dancer. The lights overhead illuminated her silver-lined corset and the gold of her jewelry. Her shadows split in an excited flicker. A smile here, a word there, maybe a gentle pat on someone’s shoulder and suddenly, she stopped. Something had caught her alert gaze. She looked up, smirked, and turned around, scanning not the crowd this time, but the back of the hangar. Her gaze fixated in them. Bloodhound tilted their head with a faint amusement. She smiled as she approached, her tall form providing a stark, dark contrast to the warm lights behind and above her.
“Ah, my guest of honor. Why don’t you join us?” Without breaking her stride, Loba circled Bloodhound and hooked her arm under theirs. They offered the faintest resistance, more as a joke than any real opposition.
“A strange guest you have chosen – I’m not one for slúður .”
She rolled her eyes theatrically. “That could mean anything. There are many things you refuse. Not all of them are bad.”
“Gossip. Idle chatter.”
She hummed amusedly as she led them towards the crowd. A few curious guests looked on. “You will do just fine. Your stories are interesting. Besides…” she stopped, turned around, and grabbed them by the shoulders. She gave Hound a probing look, arching a single eyebrow, before jokingly dusting off the collar of their coat. “This is the first time I see you wearing something that isn’t ragged and well lived-in.” With a playful wink and a smirk, she left the standing and disappeared into the crowd again.
Bloodhound shrugged and held out their arm. Artur, who had been sitting on one of the ropes above the crowd, descended quickly. The bird landed on Bloodhound’s arm with a gentle caw. The hunter nodded. Yes, every day with Loba Andrade was a new challenge.
“Of course, chancellor. I can vouch for everything you have seen today – originals from before the war, procured from Psamathe.” Loba nodded as she gave the man a warm smile. It did not take her much more than that – a smirk, a gentle touch on the shoulder or the waist, words that dripped like honey, and almost anyone, man or woman alike, felt compelled to believe her.
Even Bloodhound themselves was not sure to what degree her methods were deception, and to what they were just encouragement, delivered with such unique grace. They knew, however, that it worked every time. Loba and the broad-shouldered man shook hands, both smiling. The man left the ship, the last of the guests to do so, seemingly satisfied, and half a million credits lighter. Loba herself turned around and leaned against the wall, shooting Bloodhound an amused glance.
“Did you enjoy the party?”
“Your guests were óspennandi – unexciting.”
“Oh, don’t tell me about it!” she chimed in before breaking into an amused chuckle. “Dreadful. But they are rich, and that’s what matters.”
A drawn-out hum was Bloodhound’s only response.
She approached, sitting next to them on one of the expensive – stolen – divans. They had spent many hours like this, sometimes chatting, often in silence. Two wolves without kin, two loners who had found each other.
Still, they were different. As they had spent more time together, Loba had learned that Bloodhound was much less mysterious than most people believed. They were just keenly aware of the value of time, in a way most people were not. For them, each word and movement was a deliberate decision.
She considered herself lucky that they had chosen to spend time with her.
“Maybe I have something to lift your spirits.”
Hound tilted their head ever so gently. A barely perceptible gesture, but she had learned to read them well.
“A more exciting hunt, if you will.”
“Your last hunt had you scared for your own life.”
She frowned. “Not like that,” she stated after a moment. “No broken ghost, no dimension-hopping, no source code and no demon.” She shifted her weight ever so slightly, half turning towards them. Bloodhound, too, had learned to read her, how she invited small gestures of affection by moving just so and so. They leaned against her, just barely and for a moment. A second of affection, a show of trust. An apology for conjuring a dark memory.
“So, what is it then?”
“Treasure, as usual. A drive with a specific set of instructions.”
Bloodhound remained silent. Loba knew it was because they weren’t satisfied with her explanation.
“It’s valuable, and it’s not dangerous. But most importantly – it’s not stored in a guarded mansion or a secured vault. It’s supposed to be in some ruined facility on Talos.”
The silence grew more tense. Bloodhound shifted slightly. Artur cawed from the other end of the room.
“It will be a distraction from the games, and there is no one I’d rather have with me when searching that frozen place.”
“You are skemmtileg , Loba Andrade. You have bartered with some of the richest people on the planet all evening, but I can tell this hunt excites you more.”
“What can I say, I’m a free spirit. Wild at heart.” She laughed again, before turning and placing her slender hand on their shoulder. They both knew that her little tricks didn’t quite work with the hunter. It was a genuine, heartfelt gesture. She was asking for their help.
“Will you assist me in besting the wilds, oh hunter?” Her tone was theatrical and over-the-top, but her plea was genuine.
“Fine, Andrade fighter. Then we shall travel together.” Bloodhound instead stated their intent matter-of-factly; the solemnity of their words was entirely intended.
She gave them a wink. “Good, I expected nothing less from you.” Then she turned towards the open ramp leading off her ship. “It’s getting late. Maybe you should go, and recover from tonight’s ordeal.”
Bloodhound looked at the ramp, then back at her. With the faintest hint of hesitation, they replied “I have not eaten at your little party. Maybe we can break bread before I go – as a good omen for the coming hunt.”
It wasn’t a question, Loba realized. Still, she hesitated. Despite all their time together, Bloodhound had always refused food and drink – had never taken their mask off. She was able to take comments and jabs from the most powerful, wealthiest people of the Outlands in stride, but this behavior surprised her. Still, she was speechless only for a second, before giving them a nod. “Of course. There’s plenty here still…” With that, she stood up and went over to the large table filled with expensive food and drink. As Loba filled two plates and glasses, she could hear Bloodhound behind her back, unclasping and removing their gear. She felt a strange sense of anticipation, a mix of excitement and fear. What had pushed Bloodhound to trust her like this?
Why now?
She steeled herself, turned around, and tried hard not to stare. Bloodhound had removed their large helmet, revealing a tight leather hood underneath. They had pushed their goggles up, and their face was framed by thick, long strands of auburn hair. Her eyes involuntarily stopped on their face, taking in the crisscross of scars and burn marks, faded but still visible. Bloodhound themselves merely accepted their plate of food and raised their glass with the faintest smile. With surprise, Loba realized they must feel as insecure as she did. The thought gave her comfort. Gradually, as she sat down beside them with care, her unease faded away, leaving a warm feeling that made her skin prickle. There was no strangeness, no shame – like all the other times, just two loners who had found each other. Two friends who had but one another in the world. She raised her own glass.
They ate in silence.
The ship’s ramp opened with a soft hissing sound. Steam surrounded the opening, rising from the ground where the heat of the thrusters had melted the fresh snow of Talos. The ramp extended fully, and the sound stopped. For a brief moment, there was complete silence. Even the usual sounds of a spaceship – the beeping, creaking and whirring that made it seem alive – seemed to have been swallowed by the cold atmosphere.
Then, steps echoed through the hallway.
Bloodhound finished sharpening the blade of their axe without looking up. Loba emerged from her room, clad in more appropriate clothing for the cold, but stylish as ever. She had exchanged her usual attire for a thick, padded clothes and a warm coat lined with fur, and wore a leather backpack on her back. She had said it was inspired by hunters from old Earth, centuries ago.
“Shall we go?”
Bloodhound dragged the whetstone across the blade one more time with practiced ease. They inspected the weapon, shrugged, and, apparently satisfied, put the whetstone away. They reached for a large backpack. “We shall.”
Together, they stepped through the opening and descended the ramp. The snow under their feet made a soft, crunching sound. Loba made a little mound with the tip of her boot and kicked the dark ground a few times. It was hard as stone.
Before them lay a vast expanse of rocky, snow-covered hills. The highlands beyond a large, wild forest on Talos’ northern hemisphere. Loba’s initial research and a few stops along trading stations on Talos had finally led them here, to what had once been a large military facility. Now, after the ecological disaster, it was just wilderness. Her ship would take them no further – the terrain here was too rough to land on. In the distance, towards the east, a plume of smoke rose from a few low roofs.
“I still can’t believe people live out here,” Loba said as she took in the view. Her breath formed dense white clouds in front of her face.
“My people live here.” Bloodhound replied.
Rather than replying, she turned around and nodded towards the far-away hills. “This is where you shine, Hound. We need to find the control center of this old facility.”
Artur cawed overhead as Bloodhound moved to stand next to her. After a moment, they pointed at something far in the distance. “You see that?” they asked.
Loba tried to notice something, anything, but it was futile. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Only rocks and snow as far as she could see. “No?”
“Try again. In the air – there.”
Yes – there was something. In the distance she could see the air shifting and rising, as if heated by something.
“Is that – the facility?”
Bloodhound hummed. Loba noticed they were amused.
“Not quite.”
She could swear they were smiling under their mask.
“Warm springs – we will rest there for the night.”
Artur cawed again, flying high above, ahead of them. Bloodhound broke into a slow jog, and Loba followed behind.
The pair reached the springs just before sunset. Without much of a pause, Bloodhound put down their backpack, drew their axe, and said they’d procure wood for the fire. Their expertise was impressive, and surprising. Loba had thought that after so many seasons in the games, so much time spent with all the comforts of modern civilization, Bloodhound would have forgotten some of their skills. But they were as sharp and ready as ever. Never surprised. Never in doubt.
“Let me help,” she asked, unsure of what to do, but unwilling to sit idle. Hound turned to look at her, head tilted, and nodded.
“You can make camp. Find a flat area, clear the snow.” With that, they turned the axe in their hand and disappeared into the forest.
Loba did not take offense. They were both pragmatic – this wasn’t a lack of consideration, just how they did things. She stretched, groaning a little. As hard as it was to compete in the games, this expedition was physically exhausting. She, too, put down her backpack, then ascended a nearby slope and looked around from her vantage point.
The warm springs Hound had mentioned were little more than a number of shallow pools just a few meters away, filled with milky water. The surrounding area was mostly clear of snow, and steam rose from the pools and little cracks in the ground. The ground gradually ascended to the slope she was standing on, and then further, towards the forest. She searched for a while, and, finding a spot that looked flat and dry enough, picked up both her own and Bloodhound’s backpacks, and walked over there.
It took her a while to prepare the terrain. There was less snow here, but the ground was rocky and harsh. Loba didn’t want to spend days walking through the snow with an aching back, so she used Hound’s shovel to dig up the ground a little and move the dirt around while removing the largest stones. Satisfied with her work she stopped, drew and deep breath, and looked around.
She realized she wasn’t alone.
A small animal was closely watching her from the nearby treeline. It looked like a large rodent, somewhat resembling a squirrel, but the size of a small cat and with a pair of small horns. Its fur was striped grey and brown, and its bright yellow eyes betrayed its intelligence.
“Hello, little friend,” Loba said with a smile. “Looking to steal from the Outlands' foremost thief?”
She chuckled slightly as the animal tilted its head. Sensing no danger, it came closer. Its movements were quick and skittish – whatever this was, it clearly wasn’t a predator.
“Come on now – don’t be shy.”
The animal, now hiding behind a rock, peeked over it, focused on Loba. It followed every movement of hers with great attention as she leaned down and opened her backpack. As she produced a large plastic container, the animal’s ears perked up.
“Oh, very attentive.” Loba opened the container, which contained much of her food for the journey. She broke off a piece of bread, closed the container again, then knelt down on the ground, pinching the food between her thumb and index. “Here.”
The animal scurried closer. Loba tilted her head. The animal approached even more.
“No reason to worry. I’m a nice wolf.”
The animal reached her outstretched hand and sniffed the food she was holding. Loba opened her hand, inviting the animal closer. After a moment of hesitation, it reached for the bread. Loba offered it without resistance. As the animal sat and began to ate, she reached for its back with her hand. After a first, slow pat which had it more tense, the animal seemed to relax.
They remained like that for a while, the animal enjoying its snack, Loba petting it slowly, smiling.
That was how Bloodhound found her. They approached silently, seemingly unburdened by the stack of firewood they were carrying.
“Loba -”
“Sssssh” she said, smiling. She gently caressed the animal a few more times before turning to face them. “Looks like we’ve made a friend.”
Hound tilted their head. It was odd how much their behavior resembled an animal’s, sometimes.
“I will just -” Hound approached slowly, but apparently the animal thought this was too much. It turned to face the masked newcomer, stopped for a moment, then turned and dared away, headed for the forest.
“It seems I may have scared it away. I apologize.”
There was no hint of emotion in their voice. Loba couldn’t tell if they were displeased or not.
“It’s alright.” She stood up again and dusted off her pants. Looking at the firewood they were still carrying, she raised an eyebrow and added “are you going to stand there all day, or…?”
They looked at her, then at the wood, then back to her. “No.” Leaning down, they neatly stacked the wood in a small pile. Loba noticed how their movements seemed a little clumsy, but they quickly rose to face her again. “No, but – I was thinking, we should warm up. It’s been a long day.”
Before she could understand what they meant, Bloodhound had grabbed their backpack. They walked towards the springs, one hand fumbling to unclasp their helmet.
She joined them after a while, approaching quickly, wrapped in her coat. Hound was resting, eyes closed, immersed up to their bare chest in the hot springs. Their skin was pale, almost as much as the milky waters surrounding them, and they had removed all their clothes save for their mask. Loba wondered for a moment how long they could go without it, if it was merely helpful or if they were in any real danger should they take it off for an extended period of time.
“You hesitate,” they said, plainly, without opening their eyes.
She huffed and let her coat fall to the ground, then removed her boots before entering the hot waters. The contrast between the heat from below and the cold hair made her shudder, and she quickly immersed herself deeper. She could feel her skin flushing.
“I am usually invited to share a bath under different circumstances,” she joked. “Especially by the men. Oh, men are not very subtle about it.”
Hound hummed in agreement.
“But this is nice.”
She stretched her limbs. The warmth was starting to make her feel better, washing away the heavy feeling of a day spent walking through the snow.
“I realize it is unusual for most people to accept such an invite. But among my kin, we often share days at the springs. It reinvigorates the body and spirit alike. There is no shame.”
Their tone was only slightly apologetic. Loba smiled.
“Don’t worry. You’re not the first to see me like this.”
Bloodhound opened a single eye. The skin around their mask wrinkled as they smirked. “If the voices are to be believed…”
Loba drew in a sharp breath in feigned indignation. “How dare you! I am an upstanding woman!” She splashed water toward her friend, and Bloodhound shielded their eyes while splashing some back.
“I can see how your people have no shame – to imply something like that about me!”
They both broke into laughter – hers loud, theirs quiet, but both equally genuine.
“I merely meant to say that you have a way with words, Loba Andrade. The Eddas contain no words as sweet as what you whisper in the ears of people you want to steal from.”
From anyone else, this may have been an accusation. From Bloodhound, however, Loba saw it as just an awkwardly worded compliment.
She stepped closer to them, leaning against the edge of the pool not far away. Her fingertips sought their wrist.
They allowed it.
“Men are easy to mislead. Not many earn my honesty.”
“But animals do?”
She thought back to the strange, squirrel-like animal she had fed earlier. A low hum escaped her lips.
“They have no reason to lie. You can tell what an animal wants, from the look in its eyes, the wagging of its tail, the baring of its teeth. Humans are… complicated.” She paused. “Evil, sometimes.”
They remained in silence for a bit. A cold wind blew from the north. The sun was setting below the horizon, bathing the sky in a deep, pale red light. The many pools reflected the sunshine, giving the whole area an otherworldly glow.
“Not all humans are alike,” they added after a while. When she didn't reply, they turned to look at her, their deep blue eyes fixated on hers. “Some are good.”
“Sure. But you can’t know in advance which is which.”
“And you, Andrade? Are you good or evil?”
She paused, taking a deep breath.
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
“You are trying to do better.” Bloodhound pushed themselves off of the edge of the pool, and she felt their hand slip through her fingers. But they quickly came closer once more, this time standing in front of her. With uttermost care they took her hand and clasped it gently between their own. “That is what matters.”
“Hound…” she took another deep breath, then pushed herself forward, into the center of the pool with them. Her free hand wandered over to their shoulder. She inclined her head, and they did the same. They stood in silence for a moment, hand in hand, foreheads pressed together.
Ever so slowly, they both tilted their heads. Bloodhound’s breathing under the mask became deeper, shivering with anticipation. Her hand grasped their shoulder more tightly.
“I – Thank you.” Loba whispered. Her lips were mere inches away from the mask, now.
“This – our companionship – it’s been good for me. A boon I am so grateful for…”
She stopped as she felt their body tighten under her hand. Their slow movements stopped. Then, Bloodhound pulled away, breathing slowly.
“Is something wrong?” Loba asked.
Bloodhound shook their head and turned around. As they did, Loba could see the tears in their eyes.
“It’s nothing,” they said. Then, they approached the edge of the pool and pulled themselves up. They gathered their things, the clothes, backpack, goggles, and helmet, as she looked on, speechless. Then, the hunter headed back to the camp.
“I must apologize.”
Loba refused to look up, instead stoking the fire with the long stick she was holding. She had returned to the camp briefly after they had left, but had found it empty. She had prepared the fire, eaten, and waited. It was already night, but she had decided to stay up until Bloodhound would return.
As she remained silent, Bloodhound sat down beside her, but at some distance. Leaning back, they continued: “I should not have left, and especially not without a word. That was foolish. Næ, it was grimmur.”
“You are correct.” She scoffed. “Whatever that word means.”
They nodded.
“Your words, they conjured… sad memories. Things I would rather not think about when I am with you.”
Loba sighed. Even now, even after being left like that, she could feel that connection, that special bond between them. She knew Bloodhound would never hurt her, not intentionally at least. They were hurting.
“You don’t have to tell me about it,” she said, softly.
“I wish to.” They cleared their throat. “If you would listen?”
She nodded.
Bloodhound told her everything. Of how small the village had seemed to them, after seeing so many travelers come through. How they had wished for more – not just more of the world, but more freedom.
How Boone had offered them all of that, just to go and betray their trust.
She realized, once more, how similar they were. Alone in an uncaring world. Loba had always believed that Bloodhound was but a vagabond, a traveler, bound to return to their people once they were done with the games. She realized now that the games were their escape from a world that had become too small for them.
When they concluded their tale, Loba turned to look at them. Her eyes met the dark circles of their goggles.
“You are not the only one haunted by a demon, Loba. Today, my demons hurt you. For that I am sorry.”
She felt tears well up in her eyes, but fought them back quickly.
“How do you deal with them?” she asked.
The faceless mask stared back at her, questioning.
“I mean…” She took a deep breath. “We have been hurt. Both of us. We all have our demons. But I sometimes feel like… like I am drowning.”
She turned to face the fire again. The eager flame made the shadows on her face shiver and excite.
“Like I am alone in a dark ocean and no one can save me. I am sinking, deeper and deeper, dragged down by that murderous -”
“The past is a place to learn, not to live in.” Bloodhound interrupted her.
“We all must fight to free us from its grasp.”
“How do you do it?”
“I follow the teachings of the Allfather.”
She rolled her eyes and chuckled, despite herself. To her surprise, so did her friend.
“I know how it sounds – I have spent enough time away from my people to understand how strange it is. I have no claim that I am right. Clearly, the teachings have failed me today.”
They adjusted their goggles. When they leaned back down on their arm, they reached out to her, ever so subtly.
She allowed it.
“But it’s the best I can do.”
She nodded. “You are trying to do better.”
They hummed in agreement. “You learn quickly.”
“What if you could just leave it behind?”
This time, her question was met with silence.
“I have thought about it often, you know? If I could let go of the hate, of my wish to see the demonio dead once and for all… or if I ever manage to end him for good… what will I do?” She looked up now, scanning the firmament as if looking for an answer in the dark between the stars.
“I don’t have an answer, really. I feel like so much of me is just… caught up in this dark place. So much of me is him. I cannot imagine how it would be different.”
“I would be an artist, I think.”
Still looking at the night sky, she raised a single eyebrow.
“An artist?”
“If I were free of my… oath. Of the old ways. Yes, I think I would be an artist. Maybe a poet.”
“Don’t mess with me.”
Bloodhound laughed – loud and with abandon, this time. She was not used to it, and it sounded almost unbearably intense in her ears.
“You doubt my skills, Andrade? Maybe a demonstration will do?”
She couldn’t help but laugh herself. “No, I believe you. Alright. A poet, then.”
She felt their hand hold on more tightly to her own. As she turned, she found Bloodhound staring intently at her.
“About earlier…” they began.
Loba silenced them with a quick wave of her free hand.
“I’ve been in stranger situations.”
“No, I wouldn’t… be opposed. It’s just that physical touch is not…”
She nodded, slowly.
“Don’t worry. I have experience walking that fine line.”
“With the people you steal from…”
“Yes.”
“So this is just…?”
Loba was so used to seeing Hound as a calm, confident figure that the sudden doubt in their voice struck her with force. Only one other time had she felt this worry in them: when they had eaten together on her ship, and Bloodhound had first removed their mask in front of her. The realization was oddly endearing.
“No.” She reached for their respirator. Her fingers searched for the edge, reached under the leather, and found soft skin. She didn’t pull it off, however, content with just the little warmth prickling on her cold fingertips.
“No, this is real. This is enough.”
She felt Bloodhound’s fingers intertwine with hers.
“You are enough.”