Under the Hunter's Moon Pt. 2

This is part 2 of the first chapter of my story.

 Blood soaked through the witches cloak as she trudged into the vile swamp that she called home. Her hand was pressed tightly to her shoulder, where the blood poured out of down her limp arm. A trail of blood ran behind her, and her pale face had grown even paler, black circles forming under her widely opened eyes.

"You were a fool to save that boy, you know. You should have left him for dead." A muffled voice spoke from a satchel inside of her cloak.

"Shut up." She responded tersely.

"You still haven't discarded those weak human feelings. They will kill you if you're not careful."

"Says the dead man."

The voice chuckled, "True, but you may not be so lucky as I. Not all of us may return from The Void."

The woman fell to her knees, wincing in pain and breathing heavily.

"You might not survive to make it home, Mneme. Perhaps we were wrong. Perhaps destiny will see you fit to die here."

"It makes no difference."

"You're not being honest with yourself. I can sense your fear. You're still attached to this world, and your frail human body."

"I said shut up, or I'll toss you into the swamp, and you can spend an eternity in the muck." Mneme the necromancer said coldly. The voice laughed.

"You -would- be so cruel, wouldn't you? Very well. I'll be silent for now."

The woman made her way along a very narrow bridge of dirt and mud, her cloak dragging behind her and becoming heavy with caked grime. Eventually, she made it to a large patch of dry land, at the centre of which there stood a large teepee made of sticks and mud.

She stumbled into the entrance, removing her cloak immediately, so as to not track mud into her humble abode.

The inside was dark, with a smoldering fire pit in the centre. Along the walls were various shelves adorned with reagents and other peculiar tools. She rushed to one shelf, grabbing a jar of a strange dust, and throwing some of that dust onto the fire, it roared to life, illuminating the area in a bright orange glow.

She sat down immediately, her pale, naked body warmed by the flame.

She was thin and gaunt, her ribs showing through her skin. Her tall body was adorned with various scars, and now her right arm would have several more. Deep gashes covered it, blood streaming down to her hand and dripping onto the floor.

Another jar was next to the fire, and she grabbed it, taking some white paste from it and smearing it on her wounds. Once she had covered them all, she stood up again, walking over to another shelf and grabbing a roll of bandages. Using her mouth and free hand, she wrapped up her arm as tightly as she could, then, feeling weary, she collapsed face first into the floor next to the fire.

Something rustled from within her cloak.

"Mneme! Mneme! Wake up, girl! Don't leave me in the dark! You cruel, cruel woman! You'd die without at least setting me free?! You monster! Mneme! Mneme!" The voice cried, but there was no response from the witch. She lay there motionless and unresponsive.

---

Morning came early the next day for Rafael. He awoke in darkness, still in the same place. Jean lay next to him, her thick brown hair sprawled out above her head, her petite arm still resting over his chest. He sat up slowly, gently moving her arm off of him. She groaned and fussed quietly, but her eyes remained closed. Rafael turned and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his chest as he winced in pain again. His ribs felt like they were healing, at least. There was no way he could stay in bed any longer, though.

He got up, finding his clothes and getting dressed. As he did so, his mind quickly returned to the events of the night before last. He pictured the necromancer in his mind. There was something about her that he could not shake. He had expected an old, crochety man, something vile and to be despised, but instead it was a woman. It went against his every moral to slay a beautiful young woman such as her, yet was she not evil? Was it not a sin to defile the graves of the dead?

He wondered if she had survived. Whatever that creature was, it was beyond the scope of what a mortal man could contend with. For some reason, he felt concern, but he shook his head. Concerned about a witch? He was being a fool. His focus should be on his own people, and what such a terrible omen could mean for his village.

He suddenly wished he could speak with his father, but the man had been sleeping for days, and when he awoke, there was little strength in him to speak but a few words. Rafael suddenly felt alone, and he began to sweat. He covered his face in his hands and he felt tears well up in his eyes, but he fought them.

"Rafael, are you alright?" Jean had sat up in the bed, watching him through half closed, tired eyes, her hair a tangled mess.

Rafael swallowed his sadness and cleared his throat, "I'm fine. Go back to bed."

"Come lay with me some more." she pouted, and Rafael headed towards the door.

"I've spent enough time in bed. I have work to do." He said, walking out the door without another word.

Jean stared at the door for a while after he left, her lips curling into a frown. She huffed and turned away, laying back down and curling up into a ball.

---

The sun was just beginning to rise outside, and the last glimmers of starlight were fading in the lightening sky. The moon still hung opposite the rising sun, and by now it had returned to it's normal color from the crimson it had been the other night.

"Rafael!" A voice called. Rafael turned towards it. It was Alphonse. "Joining us on the hunt? We'll be searchin' fer that bear that did a number on ye. Can't let a man killer be hanging around our village."

Rafael knew that there was no bear, but perhaps a hunt would take his mind off things. It would also be a good chance to return to the burial mound, and see what had actually happened. He nodded to Alphonse.

"Good. Grab yer gear and meet at the edge of the village. We'll be leavin' within the hour." Alphonse said, and Rafael nodded again. "And quit with the somber attitude, boy. It doesn't suit ya."

Rafael growled, giving Alphonse a cold glare.

"Come on then! Hurry up!" With that Alphonse hurried off.

That old b*****d, thought Rafael. He was right, though. With that, he hurried off to grab his hunting gear and meet the men at the edge of town.

---

Far, far to the north, in lands long forgotten by man, something stirred. In a place of complete darkness, a drop of water fell into a great pool, sending rippled outward. The water began to glow a pale blue, and in it reflected the images of thousands of screaming ghosts. As the ripples subsided, a clearer image began to form. It was Rafael, getting his hunting gear as he prepared for the hunt. An invisible force moved over the water, and the image changed again, this time to Mneme, who was unconscious in the floor of her home.

The time has come again for history to repeat itself. Will things change for the better this time, or for worse? Or perhaps... Perhaps now the cycle will finally end.

The force moved over the water again, and this time the image changed to a slumbering beast, it's eyes glowing read in the dark.

My lovely beast, I am not ready to leave this world yet. Perhaps you can buy me more time. Perhaps we have the power... The power to change our fates.

The force moved over the water a final time, and the images faded, and the place returned to darkness.

---

Author's Note

fuck, i didn't realize my italics didn't get transferred. I was too excited to post and didn't edit properly. My bad.