Hunting the Light

Those icy eyes darted around the forest, wary and wired as she crouched about her path. Enola was silent as she crept through the undergrowth; her gentle pawsteps indistinguishable among the forest sounds. Her sandy ears were turning as she took them in, her bow poised to strike in her hands. She held an arrow between her fingers, had it pulled only slightly back.

She had no idea whether or not the human Asher would find her. The man was certainly combing the forest for his former gang leader. Her tails lashed as her fur stood on end, even the thought of him was sufficient to begin boiling the blood in her veins.

As she got lost in thought, an arrow whizzed past her ear at the same moment. She had taught them well. Enola ducked down into the undergrowth as her eyes searched for the perpetrator. She gritted her teeth as a low growl rumbled in her chest, her icy eyes training on a scout. She pulled the arrow back on the bow and began to aim for the attacker.

But whoever they were was swifter. They were a silhouette in the trees, but Enola was able to spot them, albeit with a slight struggle. An arrow flew from their bow and sunk into the shoulder of the vulpine woman. She cried out and nearly lost her footing, but she managed to steady herself to aim for the head. When her fingers uncurled, the arrow sliced through the air and dug itself into their skull. They dropped out of the tree, going limp, and a definite thud burst into existence as they hit the ground.

Enola's breath was shaky as she glanced down at the arrow protruding from the flesh of her shoulder. A rage possessed her, her head snapped to look at the corpse lying on the ground. The fox stomped over to it and spat onto the cooling flesh of their face. She sneered, unable to quench the hatred in her gaze; she watched the blood slip from her arrow's entry point, her expression joyfully malicious.

Hundreds of yards away Muhlsaan and Atki were treading through the forest. It had been hours since their meeting with the great spirit. Muhlsaan was unsure if the “great” one was malevolent or if the concept even applied with something so powerful. Either way the White One seemed indifferent to the decision it had placed upon them. Seemed foolish to trust complete strangers with such power, the power he had already began to feel. 

The power hadn't manifested as a thunderous explosion of strength and endless magic, it had started subtly--as a heightening of the senses, a sixth sense awakened that wasn't there before. Muhlsaan was certain this sixth sense is what had lead them to this exact path in this dark and winding forest. He simply knew the fox-woman they'd been tasked with finding was ahead, just around the bend.

The wizard pondered, drifting in and out of thought as they continued deeper in the forest, exchanging small bits of conversation with Atki but still largely avoiding discussing what the spirit had said to the Felecetti. He didn't want to anger him, Atki seemed to be handling this well but he knew the cat was fighting a war within himself. 

He placed himself into his shoes, a downtrodden outcast the entirety of his life, used, abused and thrown out; now granted an unimaginable power and burden at the hands of his tormentor? Muhlsaan would be furious. Furious and out for revenge on the world that had so punished him. They carried on when abruptly a phantom pain shot through the right arm of the spellcaster, he knew in that instance that it was Enola--she was in danger.

“Atki we have to hurry, she's in trouble. You have to trust my instincts on this; this way! Hurry!” The two accelerated their pace, leaping over roots and dodging branches and vines--Atki pulled ahead, his body more adapted for the terrain. He seemed to know where she was and where exactly to turn. Perhaps he had begun to feel the influence of the White One's power? Regardless they carried on, passing by tree after tree until they caught the scent of blood.

Atki had been struck with the scent of Enola and took lead in the pursuit, he remembered the smell of the battle they had come across much earlier in their journey. She had a particular scent about her, nothing unpleasant or overbearing--she smelled almost like pine. It was the mountains. He remembered now his travels through the mountains in his youth. He had escaped from his childhood and thought immediately to flee into the mountains, to seek their refuge. He found that the mountains weren't to be taken lightly and any form of sanctuary was hidden to him, he was no mountain lion. He spent a summer there in the mountains, trying to create a life for himself in isolation. He had heard tales of hermits, casting aside their bonds with society and living separately, free of burden and the weight of others.

He lasted an entire two months before he decided it wasn't his way, after being hunted by the aforementioned mountain hermits for his pelt or his blood. He chuckled to himself as he navigated this forest now, chasing after her scent. Atki leaped from tree to pathway, branch to rock, when he realized he felt something he hadn't before. He had discovered he had purpose, he felt propelled to actually do something besides simply survive--he wanted to help, he wanted to know more, to experience more. He wanted to help Enola, to save a life or to further his purpose; it didn't matter. Enola was his goal.

A goal that he accomplished. The scent of iron stuck to the roof of his mouth as he burst out into the open. She was in a heated battle with what seemed to be two opponents. Enola caught Atki out of the corner of her eye, but she was too preoccupied to acknowledge his presence. She only had one arm with which she could fight, her bow thrown on the ground. But it was pointed, her hand outstretched, at one of her attackers.

Atki watched as she burned the man to a crisp; fire was bursting forth from her palm. His screams were haunting, but Enola had given the second opponent a chance to take her down. The cat reacted without a thought. He dashed forward, tackling the man to the ground, his claws digging into his flesh as they hit the ground. His jaws closed around his throat and he felt the snap of his spine between his jaws before he let the human go. He pulled back after a moment, his tail lashing as he licked the warm crimson blood from his lips.

“Atki.” The fox regarded the feline as she lifted her hand to the arrow. She winced as her fingertips caressed the wound. “You found me, it seems. Where is the wizard?”

“Here, I am here.” Muhlsaan chimed in quietly, as he approached the carnage. “You're bleeding, can you mend yourself? I can if you can't.”

 He had decided he'd stay under the radar and try not to make any enemies. He had surmised she was being hunted, how she knew Atki's name he hadn't remembered. Had they shared their names with her? He recalled nothing of the sort, was she informed ahead of time of their arrival? The White spirit was enigmatic as ever. 

Muhlsaan pushed the thought aside as he watched the fox woman's eyes drift closed and the arrow began to catch on fire at the feathers. It took a moment, but it became enveloped in flames, burning away to ash that fell away in the wind. Opening her eyes, she used her good arm to reach into a pouch on her waist to pull out a single wide leaf and place it on her wounded shoulder. The leaf had sealed the wound and began to radiate a gentle light and fade to give way to bound and healed flesh, Fox magic. He had seen it before.

“Good, good. We're relieved you're alright, we've been sent to find you though we're not entirely sure why. You are Enola, I am Muhlsaan--Traveler and spellcrafter. Should we travel to somewhere more remote, lest your hunters find their quarry?” He waited for her response and felt her energies resonate, he was reading her mind without trying to--something he had never done before. 

He was a mage, an arcanist, but had never gained the ability to read minds. He now could, though in a less typical way. He saw shades of thoughts, like a man watching shadows and seeing shapes and motions but not the source itself. He felt her fear, her uncertainty, and her slight paranoia in regards to the two travelers that had just found her. He felt himself pouring into her mind and withdrew his energies, fearing she'd detect his prying--though he had done it unwillingly, mostly.

These gifts the spirit had given him, they were multiplying and developing by the minute. Muhlsaan found himself dwelling less and less in the mundane world and instead thriving and exploring the ethereal realm he had been given eyes to see. What great power he'd been entrusted with, he wondered what Atki could see, what he felt. He was to train the boy, recently given a name, but when would they have time to expand on these gifts? He planned to teach him everything he knew, almost. Enough to make him useful, he would withhold what he had to to keep Atki from becoming a threat.

Trust nobody--his master had instilled him with this paranoia. Knowledge is power and those with power always crave more, himself included. He knew the pathway to more knowledge was sometimes paved with the bones of your master. A rule he himself had upheld, one he would be ever vigilant against if Atki were to become a threat. He would keep his secrets.

“Yes, Muhlsaan, I know your name. You are the two travelers and, actually, I've been sent to find you. You've met the White One.” This wasn't a question. Her icy eyes stared at the two, taking them in. Atki stood awkwardly, tentative and unsure. Muhlsaan seemed to have a tighter grip on his body language and his thoughts. A red flag went off for Enola; with the inborn magical prowess she possessed, she felt something was off about the mystic. Not to mention, she felt a familiar tingling from his direction. He was reading her thoughts and she knew that. But her face betrayed nothing.

“The two of you can follow me to a cave I don't think they've found yet. If they have, they've already looked there. Unless they've set patrols, we'll be safe for a while. We'll have to take that risk.” Enola was no nonsense as she took her bow from the ground and began to walk off into the forest. She moved with a grace and an ease Atki himself had to admire.

He had questions, but they would have to wait until the fox took them to their destination. The white feline was curious as to what Enola had done to deserve an elite force thirsting for her blood; that's what plagued his thoughts as he tailed her. He stayed back with Muhlsaan, pulling his hood over his head and staring up at the fox-woman distrustfully from beneath the cloth.

“I don't trust her. I dreamed about her, Muhlsaan. She's the one who called me Atki in the first place. It means 'Nameless' in Felecetii.” He said in a hushed tone, his fingers still curled around his hood. The fur along his tail was standing on end. Enola was facing away from them, her ears swiveling to take in the sounds of the forest. She didn't seem to hear their conversation and, if she did, she didn't seem to care.

Muhlsaan however, was cautious. He whispered in a hushed tone. “We'll discuss this later Atki, we'll revisit this dream.”

They continued through the forest, Muhlsaan reached into his pocket and felt the smooth crystal of the scrying orb beneath his inquisitive fingers. Everything was falling into place.