Unnaturally Natural

Neith - Unexpected Development

As soon as Neith stepped through the threshold of her door, she could feel something was wrong. It was an unsettling feeling, one which she had never felt before. An uneasy sense of impending doom loomed over her as she closed the door behind her. When she looked at the door to her bedroom, she could feel her stomach churning in anticipation. Her instinct told her the source of the disturbance was in her room.

In her years of training, she had honed her senses to an almost supernatural degree. With the development of her senses and talents, she gained a rare asset; hunter's instinct. It was because of this instinct she was still alive. It assured her opponents never had the element of surprise and that she would never be caught off guard. Now her instincts were warning her of an immense danger that waited behind the door to her bedroom.

Subconsciously she was already devising a way to deal with the threat and even dispatch it. Her conscious mind was working on solving the identity of the entity. She thought back to when she first arrived. Many seemed to disapprove of the Huntsman's insignia engraved on the carriage, but none of them had the potential to be an immediate threat. Her thoughts immediately shifted to the boy she had met in the tavern. The moment she had set eyes on him, her whole body screamed of danger. When she approached him, she had to fight every fiber in her body to move closer. When she finally stopped behind him, she struggled to speak. That boy, that creature was something of terrible power. There was no doubt in her mind that he was not natural.

She was certain it was him; it couldn't be anyone else. Her heart started to race as she approached the door. Once again, she was fighting her own body, urging it to move. When she got arm's length from the door, the sense of impending doom vanished. After regaining complete control of her body, she hurried through the door, practically kicking it open.

Her room was empty. The only evidence of an intruder was her open closet. She rushed to investigate, kneeling to get a better look. The chest of weapons was wide open, and upon closer examination, she noticed her trap had been set off. That can't be right. If the boy had triggered her trap, he should have been incapacitated. That much silver dust should have left even the strongest supernatural writhing. Could I have misjudged him? No, I am sure he's a supernatural. He must have evaded it somehow. She stood up and looked around.

For a moment, she wondered how he could have gotten into her house. Her question was almost immediately answered when she felt a light breeze. She enjoyed the cool air this time of year and had left the window open. Damn it; I knew I should have closed it. 

She quickly realized there was only one window open, and therefore it had to be how he escaped. She ran over to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder, but he was long gone. I will have to ask around; maybe someone saw where he was running too. There was no doubt that someone would have seen him running away. His white hair made him easy to spot, and people tend to notice such apparent traits.

Neith quickly changed into new clothes. She fastened her dual holster around her hips and filled it with her silver short swords. She took a sling, which she had made especially for vials, and fastened it diagonally over her chest. She took five silver dust vials and five vials of strong acid. Using acid was an idea of her own. It was a more cruel form of hunting, but she only planned on using it as a last resort. Using vials at all was something she had thought up. Other huntsmen would carry silver dust in oversized pouches.

After she had all her hunting equipment, she took a space blue cloak from the closet and draped it over her shoulders. The darker shade of blue was intended to keep her concealed in the fast-approaching night. It also kept her weapons hidden. Only a few vials across her chest were visible. She looked much like a traveling alchemist.

She looked herself over in the mirror to be sure her weapons were well hidden. Then she left the house and took to the streets. At first, she thought it would be easy to follow the boy's trail in the city, but the people refused to talk to her. She was unsure whether it was because she was a stranger or because she was a woman. She asked around for an hour; until sundown. She had no luck. She asked a fat man who was carrying a flagon the size of her head. She had to duck as the man swung a sausage fingered hand at her and spewed obscene words, suggesting she do unspeakable things.

After that encounter, she had almost given up hope; until she heard the laughter of children. She had always had a way with children, a talent that proved helpful during her initiation. She walked towards the laughter and found two children were playing with a leather ball. She casually approached the children in an attempt to appear less intimidating.

When they saw her coming closer, they stopped playing. They seemed to be scared. There was no doubt they would have run away if she had been a man. Neith noticed their distress. She pulled back the hood of her cloak and gave a friendly smile.

"What are you two doing out here by yourselves? Your parents must be worried sick," She said in a worried tone.

They didn't respond. The shorter of the two hid behind the second. She guessed they were probably siblings, even though they didn't seem related. The taller one, who she guessed was the oldest,  had a soft face, short brown hair, and bright green eyes. The shorter boy's face was still soft with youth, and his eyes sparkled with hope. He had dirty blond hair and soft blue eyes.

"You can talk to me; I won't hurt you," she reassured.

The boys exchanged a look before the older one spoke.

"W-we don't have parents, ma'am. We're orphans," the taller one said, avoiding eye contact.

For a moment, Neith felt sad for them. If it weren't for the Huntsmen, she would have been an orphan as well. But their situation gave her an idea. It was doubtful that they would keep talking. They seemed slow to trust.

She dropped to one knee. "Hey, I was wondering if you two could help me. Did you see the white-haired man run past here?"

The boys looked at each other and stayed quiet.

"Oh, I see how it is. You're trying to heckle," Neith smiled. "What if I gave you each a silver coin?"

Their eyes grew wide with disbelief. Their expressions quickly turned from fear to pure excitement.

"You two drive a tough bargain," she joked, "how about two silver coins, each? That's as high as I can go."

Their faces lit up, and they looked at each other in disbelief.

"We saw him," The shorter one started. "He went that way," he pointed in the city gate's direction.

"He was going mighty fast too," the taller boy added.

Neith smiled. The information was less than she had hoped for, but it was sufficient. She reached under her cloak, into a leather pouch, and pulled out four silver coins. When the two children saw the sun’s fading light bouncing off of silver, they started jumping with excitement. They eagerly held out their open palms in anticipation of receiving their reward. Neith handed them their silver and watched as they scurried away into the streets. She couldn't help but chuckle at their behavior.

Her mind turned back to the task at hand, and she started walking towards the city gate. Knowing that the boy was heading there was enough to get her started. The boy's friend had already said that he didn't live in the city, but it could have easily been a lie to throw her off their trail. Now that she was sure, she had a lead.

The sun had long since vanished behind the great wall, but it had only started to set as Neith approached the city gate. The city had been bathed in darkness an hour before the sunset behind the mountains. It was a price the city had to pay for having high walls. However, there was still a brief moment of astonishing beauty. It happens every sunset when the sun touches the peak of the highest mountain. The clouds light up with bright colors, blues, yellows, greens, reds, and so many others. She had never seen anything like it before.

Neith stood for a moment in the now empty streets, admiring the colors swirling in the sky. She had never been one to seek beauty, but she could not help but notice it in the natural world. She was mesmerized by the many colors; To her, it seemed like the colors were dancing. It took her a moment to realize she had started swaying her hips. She could not stop it, or rather, she didn't want to. Moments later, she put her hands up as if she was dancing with someone, just as her father taught her. She danced with his image in her mind.

She danced with the shadow of her father until the colors in the sky vanished. As the colors faded, so did the ghost of her father. No matter how hard she tried to hold on, his image slipped through her fingers and disappeared with the lights. She was left with only her memories.

She realized she had been brought down to her knees and quickly stood up. She subconsciously whipped the tears from her face. Looking at her hand, she chuckled softly.  I thought I made peace with it. She took the hood of her cloak to wipe and dry her eyes and gave herself a moment to regain her composure before continuing to the gate. She forced the memories to the back of her mind and held back her tears. Her mind was set on finding the boy; there was nothing that would get in her way, not even a moment with her father. 

Neith was not heartless, quite the contrary. She had loved her father with all she had because he was all she had. In the past, she would have given anything to have just one final moment with him. Honoring his memory was far more important now, and she honored it the only way she knew how, by hunting those who took his life.

After walking for a few minutes, the gate finally came into view. It was the main gate of Urbemintis, and it stood out as such. Unlike the lesser gates, it was decorated with elegant carvings embedded into the stone. The two towers on either side of the gate stood tall and displayed banners which bore the kingdom's seal, three crowns of gold encircled by a silver civic crown.

Neith's attention was drawn from the towering wall to the soldiers, which patrolled it. The large emblem on their shoulders made it easy to distinguish their ranks; however, she was unfamiliar with military rankings. The number of soldiers seemed odd. Usually, there would only be six or maybe ten soldiers to patrol a gate, but she counted seventeen.

As she came closer to the gate, a soldier spotted her and approached her. Neith guessed he was of a lower rank because his armor was less refined than others. He was in full armor and carried a circular braced shield with a mid-length sword. When he came within ten feet of Neith, he stopped.

"Y-y-you there, halt!" He demanded through a stutter.

Neith couldn't help but smile to herself. She could hear the fear in the young man's voice; he could not have been older than twenty-five. Her light complexion, paired with her dark cloak, made her look like an apparition.

"I wish to leave the city," she said calmly as she slowly raised her hands.

After hearing her voice, the soldier seemed to become more at ease. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the gate is on lockdown."

"May I ask why?"

"Can't say. I haven't a clue."

"Then I demand to speak to whoever is in charge!" Neith said as she drew a large coin from within her cloak. 

The coin bore the Huntsmen's seal. The soldier recognized it immediately, and Neith could hear him softly cursing.

"Yes, ma'am, right this way. I will take you to the commanding officer."

Neith smiled broadly. She had doubted the coin's authority in a city that was not affiliated with the Huntsmen, but seeing the soldier's reaction was enough to convince her.

He signaled her to follow and walked quickly towards a small wooden building connected to the wall. She had seen similar structures in Kiro, but much bigger. They were a type of barracks only used in emergencies. Their primary purpose, as Duard had explained to her, was to be used as war rooms. They ensured information would travel fast to the front line. But they have become obsolete since most cities started using trained falcons to relay their messages. It was surprising to see one still in use.

When they reached the door to the structure, the soldier stopped and straightened his posture before he knocked.

"Come in," came a strangely polite voice from within.

The soldier opened the door and raised his visor. "Sir! I have someone who demands to speak with you..."

Before he could finish, the polite voice cut him off. "I am quite busy, Anderson. Whoever it is can wait,"

"Sir, it's a Huntsman."

There was a moment of absolute silence. Neith could hear the wind passing through the grass and the stir of chain mail from a nearby soldier. She was not sure what to expect. Huntsmen were not wanted in the city, and if the captain did not approve of her presence, he could have her killed.

"Fine, let him in, Anderson."

The soldier stepped to the side, allowing Neith to enter. When she turned the corner, she saw the commander. Never before had she feared another being, but when she laid eyes upon him, she was overwhelmed by a spirit-crushing fear. If she had been anyone else, she would have soiled herself and quite possibly passed out. But she stood her ground and kept her composure.

She felt strange; not only was she overwhelmed with fear, but she also stood in absolute awe of the man before her. He was a large man, seven feet easily. His armor was astonishing, shining bright silver and gold, engraved with the likeness of a griffon. The shoulders of his fine armor were engraved with two wings. His entire body was hidden under his armor, but Neith could tell he was a brute. She looked at his helmet, and it was not just a piece of armor, but rather a work of art. It had two wings and was engraved with many images and symbols.

"I wasn't expecting a Huntsman, much less a girl."

The captain slowly removed his helmet to reveal a strong jawline, wise green eyes, and hair that had turned silver from age. 

"So, what is so important that you had to speak with me directly?" 

He tucked his helmet under his right arm and looked at Neith, waiting for a response.

She struggled to find her words, and for a moment, forgot what she was doing. Her mind was swimming in a strange mixture of intimidation and admiration. 

"I-i am following someone, w-who could be a problem for t-the city in the future," She stammered.

The captain looked at her for a moment, then down at the table in front of him.

"One after the other, it seems," He said, more to himself. "It will have to wait. My men and I are currently working to solve a more immediate issue."

Neith's confidence quickly returned to her when she realized she could be of assistance. Having someone of high rank as an ally could prove useful. A devilish smile started to form as she approached the table. She put her hands behind her back and took an almost innocent pose.

"I could help you solve this issue," She chirped.

"Not a chance," the captain replied without a second thought.

"I am a Huntsman," She proclaimed proudly. "Do you doubt my capabilities? I have been trained to solve any issue, no matter how dangerous."

"I do not question your qualifications or talents. I cannot, in good conscience, send another out to deal with that fiend."

Hearing what the captain called the creature had Neith's mind racing. Fiend? Refers to something unholy or demonic. It's not a werewolf or anything with hair covering its body; otherwise, he would have said monster or beast. A skinwalker, perhaps? No, they aren't found in these areas. Something unholy...a vampire? No, a single vampire wouldn't cause this much trouble. It must be a wendigo, I am sure of it.

"I am a Huntsman," she repeated. "I have sworn an oath to hunt the supernatural, even at the cost of my own life. I will face the wendigo whether you send me or not."

She had grown serious, and her face expressionless. Staring into the captain's eyes, trying to figure out what he was thinking. But the captain showed no sign of what he thought, almost as if he did not hear what she said. After a minute, he finally spoke.

"It's clear you won't be deterred, so I will not try to stop you, and neither will my men," He then looked at the soldier behind Neith. "Anderson! escort the Huntsman to the gate."

Neith smiled victoriously.

"I will take up position on the wall, and if you are in need of assistance, my archers will create a diversion so you can escape," The captain said as he put his helmet on.

Neith didn't argue, as it would be pointless.

"And one more thing, Huntsman," the captain started. "You should be careful with whom you speak. Any other captain would have beheaded you for your arrogance."

She stayed quiet, knowing full well he was right. While training with Duard, her formation was perfect, her speed was extraordinary, her accuracy was exceptional, and her knowledge grew astonishingly. However, her overconfidence stood between her and greatness. She remembered Duard's words, 'if you keep your nose up and never look at the road before you, you will not see the cliff's edge.'

She lowered her head, sincerely, "I apologize for disrespecting you."

"It is quite alright," The captain's voice echoed from behind his helmet. "I am the one who should apologize. I assumed that you would be inadequate, merely based on your appearance. But you are far more than meets the eye."

Neith was surprised. She did not think the captain would be so humble. In her experience, no one of high rank acted humbly.

As she turned to follow the guard, Anderson, the captain, spoke again.

"Before you leave, I must warn you; this particular wendigo is unlike any other I have seen."

"What do you mean?" She asked without turning around.

"It spoke," He paused. "That is why one of my men went out to investigate. It is also why we have not taken steps to kill it yet; if it has enough intelligence to speak, it could be much more dangerous."

"I see. Thank you for telling me; the information will be helpful," Neith said and continued to follow the guard.

So it spoke? That explains a lot. To any who were not well-versed in the supernatural, speech would mean intelligence; however, that was not the case for some creatures. In this situation, speech did not mean it would be more dangerous, but rather, that it would be easier to kill. This wendigo is still in the process of transforming.

The shadow of her hood hid her smile. This is going to be easier than I thought. There are still traces left of the person this creature once was. Her thoughts were interrupted by the guard's booming voice, 

"We have arrived at the gate, ma'am. You may proceed at your own risk," he said before opening the small door on the gate.

Neith smiled and thanked him. Before she stepped through the door, she composed herself. She had been taught many lessons in the past; she was taught how to kill any supernatural. But as Duard had taught her. All the training in the world is not worth a single battle. She had heard of many Huntsmen who believed training and lessons would prepare them to face any threat, only to die in their first real battle. Always expect the unexpected.

She drew her swords and lowered the tips to knee height. Before she moved any further, she quieted her mind and sharpened her focus. Exhaling loudly, she crossed the door's threshold, and everything became quiet. There was no sign of life, no birds, no crickets, not even a breeze. It was almost like the surroundings knew there was danger, almost like it didn't want to distract her from killing the wendigo.

Neith was no longer the same. She changed, as she always did when hunting. Her mind was focused on finding and killing her prey; there were no other thoughts to cloud her judgment. Her emotions were turned off; she had become the perfect predator. In this state, she was unstoppable. She made use of all her senses to an almost supernatural level. She noticed the smallest changes in the environment, the slightest shift in the air. It is a talent few have heard of, and even fewer have ever mastered.

She approached a small clearing and stopped. There was a slight metallic smell in the air. Blood. She brought her left sword up and drew back her right. Relaxing her body and mind, she proceeded into the clearing. It was in the center of the clearing where she saw her prey for the first time.

Its average size was a clear indication of an incomplete transformation. It was stumbling around the small clearing like a clumsy oaf. If its conversion had been completed, it would have avoided any open areas. Neith guessed it was only hours away from becoming a complete wendigo. All the more reason to finish this as quickly as possible.

She brought her swords together and lightly tapped them against one another before resuming her stance.

Hearing the metallic cling, the creature whipped around and immediately charged. It's speed, compared to that of a werewolf, was underwhelming. Neith stepped to the side and tossed a silver vial in the air. Her timing was impeccable. The small vial collided with the monster's disfigured face and shattered in a cloud of silver dust. The sudden burn of silver on its skin caused the creature to stumble and fall face-down. 

Neith moved quickly, giving it no time to stand. Within a second, she was on top of the creature and drove her right sword into the back of its skull. She leaned her weight on the sword until she felt the tip find soft earth. It was an alternative method to ensure the creature was dead. Decapitation would have proven difficult and awkward with it in a face-down position.

She drew her blade from the creature and whipped the edge with her cloak. 

"I must say, I am impressed," She was surprised to hear the captain's voice coming from behind her.

"I thought you were going to watch from the wall?" She said, still cleaning the edge of her blade.

"I am a tempered warrior, Huntsman. I knew you would be the victor as soon as you stepped foot outside the gate."

"It took you that long?" Neith replied, sheathing her swords.

"You have mastered a technique I like to refer to as masquerade. When I met you for the first time, you seemed to be a simple commoner too foolish to tell left from right," the captain paused for a moment as if to build suspense for what he was about to say. " However, the moment you set foot outside the gate, you changed completely. The way you move, even the way you breathe."

Neith finally turned to face the captain. She spoke softly but clearly.

"I was taught to act as such. To think of myself as two different beings. One who reasons and plans, and the other a warrior who knows nothing but war."

"An effective tactic, it seems," The captain replied, looking at the corpse at Neith's feet.

"So, captain, do I have permission to leave the city now?" She asked plainly.

The captain’s laugh echoed behind his helmet. "You're something else, Huntsman. I give you my permission to leave, but I wish to know something first."

Neith felt annoyed. She had done so much for this captain already, but now he wanted more. What will it take to please this greedy captain?

She shrugged off her annoyance and asked him what it was he wanted.

"Your name, I wish to know it," His request came as a surprise to her.

To most, the request would seem mundane; however, to a Huntsman, it was profound. Her name was her identity. It was something she only shared with other Huntsmen. Speaking her name to anyone who was considered unworthy was deemed an offense of the highest degree. 

But this man is a captain, and clearly an esteemed one at that. If there is anyone worthy of hearing a Huntsman's name, it is him.

She turned her back to him and the city. "Neith, that is the name I was given."