Unnaturally Natural

Neith - Shocking Truth (Part 1)

Neith tried to find a trail that strayed from the main road but found nothing. He must not have strayed from the main road. It came as a surprise, as she would not have expected he would do something so simple. Even though it would be easier to follow the main road, it also had its downsides. She could not be sure how far he might have gone and where he stopped.

For a Huntsman, a cobblestone road was both a blessing and a curse. It might have been easy to follow, but it eliminated the possibility of leaving a trail. It allowed for faster travel, but it also allowed the target to move faster.

Neith followed the main road until she came across a pure white inn. She had not expected to find anything so far away from the city, other than small villages. She could tell the wood used to build the inn was not local; pure white wood did not grow in Bodicca. 

As she climbed the two steps onto the porch, she stopped at the top and examined the pillar to her right. The wood was engraved with a mural. She instantly recognized it; It was her father's favorite story. The image showed a figure on a small hill, surrounded by an unfathomably large army. It was the tale of a hero who saved the kingdoms of Bodicca when humans had first arrived. 

It was only six years after humans arrived; their previous king was furious at them for deserting their country and swore to hunt them down. She recalled her father's words. In their six years, humans managed to establish good relations with the native elves and requested their aid.

The wicked king's forces were met with surprising resistance, so he sent an army. When his warships reached the shores, all hope seemed lost. The people were pushed back into the small city they had built, Leviaty, modern-day Urmari. As the army marched to the small city, the refugees' leader, once again, sent a request for help to the elves. Help arrived in the form of a single man. Needless to say, the refugees were furious. Their leader wanted to surrender, but the stranger told him to wait and that the army would be dealt with the following day.

The ruler was reluctant to agree, but he knew any path he would choose meant death. All he could do was accept the stranger's help. He offered the stranger command of his finest soldiers, but he declined.

The next day, when the sun rose, the stranger was not in the city. The ruler thought he had decided to run after seeing the great army he would be facing. He decided he would surrender to the king's commander and offer his life to spare those of the other humans, but he was stunned by what he saw when he walked out of the city gate.

A single man stood atop the hill that lay between the city and the ocean. His back was to the city and his face to the enemy. He did not carry a shield or wear armor, only a simple tunic and elven greaves. His weapon was a simple iron sword. To the ruler, he seemed to be no more than a squire in training. But when the sun was at its peak, he saw what the stranger could do.

He disappeared from atop the hill, and the enemy's forces fell into chaos. They were falling by the hundreds; none of them were even able to cut the stranger's loosely hanging clothes. He moved among the enemy with such speed; it was hard to keep track of him. Whenever he moved slow enough, he displayed his strength by throwing soldiers like rag dolls. Upon seeing the stranger's strength and speed, many soldiers ran to their ships, hoping to escape.

The king's wicked army had arrived in one hundred ships. After the battle, only three escaped. The ruler of Leviaty wanted to reward him with gold and silver, but the stranger was never seen again. It is believed he perished in battle.

Neith realized she had been staring at the column for more than five minutes, tracing the carvings with her finger. She smiled and shook her head. Her father had always been quick to believe the legends of old, but she knew better. She had no doubt the story was highly fabricated. No human or elf could push back an army. Not even the strongest supernatural can fell an entire army. But it is an awe-inspiring tale, none the less.

When she walked through the door, she was surprised to see how busy it was. She had not seen any horses or carts, that would suggest there would be so many people. She scanned the drunken crowd, searching for the owner, or at least someone who worked for the owner. On the other side of the room, she could see the bar, but there was no one behind it. 

Neith started getting impatient and contemplated running through the crowd. Before she could decide what to do, a kind voice came from her right, startling her.

"Can I help you?"

Neith looked to her right and saw who the voice belonged to. It was a girl who was shorter than her, but only slightly. The girl's hair was brown and incredibly curly. Her eyes were forest green and seemed to be filled with joy, which was magnified by the poofy red dress she wore. She looked young, but Neith guessed she was in her twenties.

Neith pulled her hood back and brushed her hair to the side. She realized speaking from behind a hood would seem suspicious and cause people to avoid answering her questions.

"Yes, I am looking for some friends of mine. They said they would wait for me here today. Is there any chance you've seen them?" She asked convincingly.

"Well, a lot of people stop here throughout the day, so you'll have to be a bit more specific, ma'am."

"One of them really stands out. He is quite a bit taller than me, and he has snow-white hair," Neith explained, trying her best to sound like a worried friend.

The girl smiled broadly when she hears the description, "Oh, you mean Alexander. I didn't know he had any friends other than that other boy. But I guess I don't know him that well as is," she laughed.

"Yes, him. Have you seen him?"

"Yeah, he and his other friend got in late yesterday and spent the night. But they left about three hours ago," she said, pointing at the inn's door.

"Did you see which direction they went?" 

"Well, I didn't see, but I think I might know. But he didn't say anything about you, so I am not too sure if I should say anything."

Neith felt her heart starting to race for a moment. She had hoped to get the information she needed without too many questions being asked. But luckily, she was prepared.

"He always does this," she started with a chuckle, "you'd think Dara would at least remember to say something. I don't know what I am going to do with those two," she said, rubbing her eyes.

The other boy had formally introduced himself to her when he showed her around town the day before. She had made an effort to remember his name, just for occasions such as these.

The girl stayed quiet for a moment, then happily smiled.

"Oh, I see. The two of them went into the forest, heading northwest. I think that's where Alexander lives if I am not mistaken."

"Perfect, thank you. I should leave right away, don't want to keep them waiting," Neith said with a fake smile.

The girl offered her food and drink, but she politely declined and made her way outside. She stopped and looked at the sun, reaffirming her directions before heading to the northwest. She could not help but feel bad for misleading the kind lady at the inn, but it was necessary; the boy was a threat that had to be eliminated.

Neith walked to the edge of the forest and paused for a moment. She never liked going into the woods. It was incredibly dangerous, and she was well aware of the number of werewolves in the area. It was called Wolves' grove, after all. Before crossing the threshold into the forest, she adjusted her swords and counted her vials. After she was sure of her inventory, she moved forward, paying close attention to her surroundings.

Surprisingly, her journey was uneventful. The whole forest seemed to be devoid of sound; even the birds were mute. It made her feel uneasy and wonder what could cause such a defining silence. Before she could come to a conclusion, she saw a small cabin and knew she had found his home. She slowed down her pace significantly and drew one of her swords. 

When she reached the door, she was prepared to pick the lock. She was surprised to find the door did not have a safety and could easily be pushed open. Sheathing her sword, she looked around the small cabin. It was clear there was no one there. She had not made any effort to conceal her scent; she would have been attacked if there were any supernaturals. It wasn't that she forgot to hide her scent or didn't know it had to be concealed; she neglected it on purpose. Instead of covering her scent to sneak up on prey, she used it as a lure to draw in her prey.

There was nothing special about the cabin. It was small and hardly had space for more than one person. It was made up of three rooms. The main room, which was where the entrance was located, had a large fire pit in the center with a chair on either side. The other two rooms were each a quarter of the main room, effectively forming a rectangle. The two smaller rooms were both bedrooms; however, the leftmost room only had a bed, whereas the rightmost room had storage chests and a closet. Neith was sure it was the owner's room.

After inspecting the house, she left the building, intent on hunting down the white-haired boy. She only took a few steps away from the building before seeing why the forest was so quiet. In front of her, implanted in the soft soil, were several large paw prints. The large human-like forepaw imprints were a clear indication that they belonged to werewolves. Among them, she noticed two sets of human prints. Upon closer examination of the tracks, she could see small differences in size and shape. Eight...No, nine. Nine werewolves.

Even though Neith had the utmost confidence in her abilities, she knew nine werewolves would easily overpower her. There was no other choice; she had to change her tactics. She continued to examine the tracks, hoping to find more details. 

It seemed, eight of the wolves formed a protective perimeter around the two humans and the ninth wolf. After forming a convoy, the prints led north. There was no way of knowing how far they went without following. Instinct told her to follow her prey to the ends of the earth no matter what stood in the way. But her conscience mind warned her of the impossible odds of facing nine wolves. She chose to listen to the latter and decided to wait for the boy in his own home.

She walked back to the cabin and opened the door. She chose to hide in the main room, as it would allow for a surprise attack. There was a big chance that she would not get the opportunity. All supernaturals had heightened senses, and werewolves were at the very top. It was possible he would smell her before she could do anything, but she knew that. To be frank, she didn't like setting traps; it never felt right to her. Setting a trap would have been much safer, but she wanted to fight; she wanted to give her prey a chance.

She waited for several hours before she heard the boy's voice coming from outside. It sounded like he was talking to his friend. She hoped he would get between her and her prey. It was frowned upon to kill civilians; however, it was permitted if they were to interfere.

She waited patiently for several minutes and noticed the second voice had disappeared. A minute later, she heard the door open. There was a moment of silence. She knew he could smell her; there was no doubt in her mind. Her hands moved slowly, and she drew her swords without sound. The boy's smooth voice broke the silence.

"You can come out; I know you're there."

Neith smiled to herself before she stepped out into the open. Everything was happening exactly as she had anticipated. She slowly stepped out from her hiding spot and stood in the doorway. She had both her swords drawn and pointed to the ground, in a relaxed position. Her instincts still screamed of danger, as they had done before, but this time she was ready and managed to maintain control of her body.

There was an intense moment of silence. It was her chance to get a good look at him for the first time. He was easily a foot taller than her. His body was lean, contrary to the usual muscular build of a werewolf. His eyes were a bright shade of blue and had a predatory quality to them. His white hair was short and clean.

As she was studying him, she felt his eyes examining her. Then there was a moment, a split second, where their eyes met. In that heartbeat, Neith leaped forward with her sword pointed at the boy's chest. She aimed to end it quickly, but the boy moved to the side, dodging the strike effortlessly. She shifted her weight to her left foot and brought her right sword up in a s***h, hoping to catch him by surprise. The blade was met with nothing but air. The boy's movements were quick, agile, and precise.

Neith continued attacking, not letting up for a moment, but each swing missed. He was much faster than she had anticipated. No creature in humans form should be able to move so fast. He was moving at a speed that was comparable to an adult werewolf. Each cut she made would almost land, but at the last moment, he moves narrowly avoiding the attack; he was taunting her.

She continued her flurry of blows, hoping to get lucky, and wound the boy. After numerous attempts, she recoiled and brought both swords to her right and slashed horizontally. The boy stepped back, allowing the blades to pass him, and took the opportunity to move behind her. She noticed his movement and brought her elbow up, attempting to stun him with a strike to the face. Her strike made contact, but she did not celebrate because it had made contact with his palm.

His hand was now firmly wrapped around her upper arm. She felt his other hand below her head, and before she could attempt a blow with her free arm, he swept her feet from under her, causing them both to hit the ground with a thud.

The boy had landed on top of Neith, knocking the wind out of her. Even though he had her pinned, she did not give up and struggled against his hold. Her swords were still firm in her hands; to her, that meant she had a chance. The boy steadily adjusted his grip on her arm, moving his hand to her wrist.

"Drop your swords," he said in a monotonous voice.

Neith spat and furiously tried to wriggle free from his grip. But his hand was like a steel cuff around her wrist. She resorted to her free hand, trying to angle her blade towards the boy. As soon as the boy noticed what she was doing, he slowly twisted her arm until she stopped.

"I said, drop your swords."

"Never!" Neith growled.

"Listen! I don't want to fight you! Drop your weapon!" The boy shouted.

His voice shook Neith to her core. It wasn't that he was loud, but rather the tone of his voice; it was frightening.

"Why should I believe you?" she asked, as she struggled against his grip.

"If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you already!"

Neith stopped for a moment as the boy's words sank in. He was right, and she knew it, but she had never thought of it that way. She had never met a supernatural that didn't want to kill a Huntsman. Was there a reason behind how he was acting? What could he possibly gain from letting her live?

The air was quiet for a minute. Neith tried to struggle free one last time, to no avail. There was no way out. If she continued to fight, it would get her nowhere; the boy was clearly superior. She knew there was no other option; she slowly opened her hands, releasing her weapons.

The boy placed his knee on her lower back and confiscated her weapons with his now free hand. Once he had both swords, he slowly stood up, allowing Neith the freedom to move. He took a few steps back and dropped the swords behind him.

Neith was quick to return to her feet and immediately faced him.

"What do you want from me?" She hissed.

"You're asking me? You, who broke into my home and tried to kill me?"

She remained quiet, her eyes not breaking from his.

"Why do you hunt me? What have I done to deserve this?" the boy started, "I have not harmed anyone, and I keep to myself. Why do you want to kill me?"

"Because you're a monster. You say you haven't killed anyone; even if that is true, you will harm someone one day. I am here to stop you before you have the chance to kill," Neith said, her eyes burning with hate.

"I'm the monster?" The boy said, clearly angered by the statement, "I do not kill others simply because they are different. I had no choice in what I would be born as; no one has that privilege. But you don't care, do you? Even if I were a defenseless child, you still would not hesitate to take my life. NOW TELL ME AGAIN, WHO IS THE MONSTER!"

The boy was seething with pure rage. Neith's instincts frantically started screaming at her to run, but she was frozen. It was just like before. Her body would not listen to her, no matter how badly she wanted to move; she was, quite literally, scared stiff. Suddenly she was twelve again, hopeless and powerless to stop the inevitable. She closed her eyes and accepted her fate, just as she had done then.

Several moments passed before she heard a familiar metallic clang. When she opened her eyes, the boy was right in front of her. He was so close; she could see her reflection in his eyes. 

"Take you're weapons and leave. Now!" He said plainly as he turned his back to her.

As she looked down, she saw her swords. The boy had dropped them before her. She was confused as to why he would return her weapons. Was she so little of a threat that he didn't even worry if she was armed? Did he trust her? Neith was sure it was something else. There was no way a supernatural would ever trust a huntsman, no matter the circumstances. There was another reason for his actions; she just wasn't sure what.

She gathered her weapons and quickly left the cabin. It had crossed her mind to attack him while his guard was down; however, her instincts stopped her. They did not warn her of danger or injury; they warned her of instant death. If she had attacked him, there was no doubt he would have killed her.

She made her way back to the inn as fast as she could without running. She needed time to rest and process all that had happened. While walking, there was one thought on her mind. Am I the monster? At first, there was no doubt in her mind, her cause was just, but as she walked, the boy's words repeated in her head. Am I the real monster? This thought swirled around in her head, coupled with the boy's words.

After hours of walking, she finally reached the inn. The sun had long since set, leaving the world in darkness. She thought about going back to Urbemontis immediately, but it was dangerous to travel at night, especially when she could not retain her focus. There was no other choice; she would have to stay at the inn for the night. She hoped her funds would be sufficient.

She ended up spending more time at the inn than she had planned. When she arrived, the first night she was not tired and decided to spend some time at the bar. She had only intended on a few drinks, but the memories of her encounter were still fresh in her mind, so she started drinking more. After her twelfth drink, the bartender stopped serving her. She tried to protest, but as soon as she stood up, her legs almost gave way. Against her less than sound judgment, one of the maids walked her to her room.

The following morning she wanted to leave but was stopped by a severe hangover. She decided to stay at the inn until she felt better. On the one hand, she was frustrated that a hangover stopped her from leaving; on the other hand, she was glad it was so intense. The throbbing in her head diverted her attention away from the conversation she had with the boy. But her pleasure was short-lived, as the hangover started to go away a few hours before nightfall.

She did not want to leave while her mind was occupied, but there was no other choice; her coin was running low, and she could not afford to stay another night. 

She gathered her things and left just as the sun started to set. The journey that lay ahead was long, and she had to travel without the light of the sun to guide her. Usually, the early darkness would not bother her; her senses were exceptionally sharp, even in the dark of night. But her jumbled thoughts left her vulnerable. For the first time since becoming a Huntsman, she hoped for an uneventful journey.

To her relief, the main road was relatively quiet. She only crossed paths with a merchant and his guards who had made camp on the side of the road, some dwarven woodcutters who were working late, and the occasional deer.

Throughout the entire journey, her mind did not rest even once.