Chapter Eight: Hosech and the Hunters

Wren laid beside the fire, letting its warm melt the snow off her coat. She had to admit that it felt nice to rest her body. Orla was the first to fall asleep. Curled beside the fire with her cat laying against her chest.

Wren gazed at the young girl warmly. She liked Orla and felt guilty that she had to lie to her. Wren wished that she could tell Orla everything, but it was impossible.

Perhaps once she is changed back to a Mortal woman, Wren might tell Orla. She might be able to explain it all then.

It's not like I want to lie to her, Wren thought. But I need Kacien to trust me. I can't let him find out that I was the one who started the forest fire.

Despite the facade she put up, Wren was terrified of the Elemental. His magic rippled off him like lightening. Every time he looked at her, she felt like he could see straight through her.

As Wren enjoyed the warmth of the fire, she contemplated her plan.

Go to the mountain. Get changed back into a woman. Save Orla from Kacien.

It wasn't a very complicated plan. Wren knew that she would have a lot to figure out. However, she had over a week to perfect the plan.

"So, Orla says she met you in Greystorm?" Kacien's deep voice pulled Wren from her thoughts.

"Yes, I have a bakery there," Wren looked up over the fire at the Elemental.

Kacien nodded. "It's been some time since I've been to Greystorm. I remember the people there being very superstitious."

"I suppose," she said. "Most of them fear the forest. Which is why I found it strange when Orla said she lived in Inkwell."

A smirk tugged at Kacien's lips.

"I have to admit," Wren began slowly. "I was a bit shocked. I mean that a Mortal child would be living with an Elemental like you."

"And I am a bit shocked that a simple baker would know what I am."

Shit, Wren thought to herself. "I... I know a bit about magical creatures. I find them...fascinating."

Kacien nodded, but he didn't seem particularly convinced.

"She told me her real family is dead," Wren said, glancing at Orla. She couldn't help but think that the child deserved better than the life she had.

"I found her on battlefield after a war between the Valleys of Parth and the Kingdom of Kelya," he said. "She's been living with me since."

Wren glanced back at Orla, sleeping beside the fire. She knew the pain of loosing a parent.

"You should sleep," Kacien told her. "Tomorrow I would like to make it further."

Despite herself, Wren agreed. She laid her head down. While she didn't trust Kacien, she knew that she needed sleep.

With the fresh light of dawn, Wren woke to the sound of laughter. She opened her eyes slowly. The snow had stopped, and the skies were a pale shade of pink. Orla was trudging through the fresh snow, laughing as the orange tabby followed her.

"I'm not so sure," Kacien said from his spot beside the fire. "I'm just not sure I would call that a snowman," he gestured to a strange sculpture Orla had made with snow, branches, and stones.

"I never said it was a snowman. It's really more of a snow troll."

"Hmm," Kacien stood and looked over at Orla's creation.

"I think it's missing something, but I don't know what." Orla placed her hands on her hips and gazed at the snow troll.

Kacien walked over to Orla and gazed down at the snow troll. He copied Orla's stance, placing his hands on his hips. He took a few minutes to stare at the sculpture before glancing at Orla.

"I think he looks great," he said.

"No," Orla insisted. "Something is missing."

Kacien continued to stare at the snow sculpture. "Ah," he said at last, digging into one of his pockets. He handed Orla a handful of juniper berries. "I think he wants to feed the birds."

"Of course," Orla said excitably, snatching the berries from Kacien's hand. She placed the berries on top of the snow troll's head.

Wren stood, stretched, and walked over to the field where Orla and Kacien stood. She watched the Elemental closely.

"I didn't realize I was in the presence of such a famous sculpture judge," she said, sitting beside him, watching as Orla finished some last touches.

Kacien smirked. "Well, I don't only use my powers for evil," he said briskly. "Orla," he called. "Let's go. We've got a long journey."

Wren didn't want to admit to herself, but she was glad that Orla had joined them. While she worried for the child's safety, she enjoyed her company. There was time when Wren had fantasized about having a child.

However, life and Hunting got in the way. Well, that and the fact that it took two to make a child. Wren had never been entirely successful when it came to maintaining friendships, let alone romantic relationships.

With Orla, Wren felt a strange connection. She cared for the child deeply, despite not knowing her for very long. She hoped that in time, Orla would see that Kacien was not a parent but a monster.

"If you keep going off trail, you'll only be more tired at the end of the day," Kacien warned Orla at one point.

The sudden comment pulled Wren from her thoughts.

"But I want to show Wren the snow berries. She's never seen them before."

Kacien sighed and stopped walking. He bent down to the ground and whispered something calm and ancient. The words alone made Wren's fur stand on end. Despite the fear she felt towards his magic, the outcome was anything but fearsome.

A pale blue shrub emerged from beneath the snow. On it, little white berries dangled on the ends of the branches. Wren nearly gasped. Snowberries?

Orla grinned and bent down beside Kacien. "Look Wren," she said. She grabbed a handful of the berries.

"I've never seen such a thing," Wren commented, gazing at the pale berries. When Orla had claimed to have eaten a meal of Snowberries, Wren was certain the girl had made them up.

Orla laughed and glanced at Wren. "Well, not many people see them, I guess."

"Alight," Kacien said. "Let's keep going."

"Right," Orla said, leading the way.

Wren gazed down at the little Snowberry bush as they passed.

"You can create life? Just like that?" Wren asked Kacien.

"Some life, yes," he said. "I can create any plants native to my forest."

Wren said nothing as she followed him down the little trail. Growing plants was certainly not one of the many things her mother had warned her about. It seemed like a rather wasteful use of magic.

"How far do you plan to take us?" Wren asked Kacien in the afternoon.

"There is a village in the foothills of the mountains," he said. "I hope to make it there by tomorrow evening. Tonight, I hope to make it a lake called Ihtas."

"Are we still in Inkwell?"

Kacien nodded.

"It's much larger than I realized," she said.

"Not as large as it used to be," he said. A strange sorrow filled his words.

"Really? Why?"

"The Kingdom of Kelya has claimed much of the land that used to be the southern forest," he explained simply. "The Mortals of Kelya have little use for thick forests, other than to harvest the wood for their homes."

"So, Inkwell has shrunk?"

He nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No, you're not," he said. "People like you stand behind every decision to destroy forests like mine."

Wren bristled at the comment. "I have no issue with Inkwell. Why would you-"

Kacien gazed back at Wren. "Where do you come from?"

"Greystorm-"

"No, where were you raised," he asked.

"The Valleys of Parth."

"Ah," he said simply. "Then you have deeper ties with destruction than I thought."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"The Valleys of Parth are home to a group called Hunters. Have you heard of them?"

Wren felt her stomach churn. He couldn't find out. "I've heard of them before," she said vaguely.

"And do you know what they did to Parth?"

Wren gave a dismissive shrug, wishing the conversation would end. She didn't like where this was going.

"His name was Hosech," Kacien said. "He was one with that valley as I am one with Inkwell. When the Mortals began to settle the land, the coexisted with him for a long while. They harvested the wheat, barley, and vegetables from his land in a way that did not harm the valley. Do you know what happened when the Hunters arrived there?"

Wren did know.

"The Hunters convinced the settlers that they could harvest more and more. Hosech told them that more harvesting would strip the lands of nutrients and harm him." Kacien continued.

"And the Hunters burned the entire Valley…" Wren finished.

"Hosech died with his lands."

Wren said nothing. She thought about the poor, barren lands that she had been raised in. Despite the poverty and disparity, the story of the Hunters and Hosech had always seemed like a heroic story. Now, however, it seemed to be painted in a darker shade.

"Magical creatures and Mortals will never exist in harmony," Wren said simply, thinking of her mother's teachings. "In the end, one will always win."

"And the Mortals of Parth...are they winning?"

Wren said nothing.

Night came quickly. Kacien decided to make camp along the banks of the lake called Ihtas. The alpine lake was frozen over and covered in a thick blanket of snow. Despite that, Kacien made a hole in the ice and retrieved water to make a warm stew.

Orla was quick to help Kacien make a simple stew as the night set in. Wren watched as Orla added wood to the fire.

Together, Orla, Wren, and Kacien shared the warm stew beside the fire. Stars crawled into the sky above them, twinkling and dancing. The fire crackled restlessly, as Orla told them all a story about a goblin and a frog.

In Wren were honest, Orla's story-telling skills were not the best. In fact, her stories seemed to never have much of a point. However, with a full belly and the warmth of the fire, Wren was happy to listen to the young girl tell her wild tales.

At some point in the evening, Wren felt herself drift off into a dream-filled sleep.

Tears streamed down Wren's face as she knelt beside her mother. Her hand shook as she clenched Arlena's hand.

"No," she said in a voice so strained she hardly recognized it. "No, no, no."

But it was too late. Arlena was gone. Her face was pale and bloodless. Her wounds had stopped bleeding and her hands were already growing cold.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Wren cried.

"Oh, Wren," came a voice from behind her. A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder as she sobbed.

"Those demons took her," she sobbed.

"Wren," said the voice again. "You know that's not true...come, let's get you home."

Wren turned to look up at her grandmother. Alice's face was stern and sorrow filled as she gazed down at Wren and Arlena.

"I... I never should have left," Wren said. "I never should have gone after those ghouls."

Alice bent down and placed her hands on either side of Wren's cheeks. "Dear," she said. "This life is dangerous...even more than you understand. Give it up, child. And live your life."

"No," Wren said, finding her voice again. She stood up. "Look at what happened to my mother. Those monsters deserve to pay for what they've done."

Alice shook her head slowly. "No. Fighting fire with fire-"

"They deserve to die," Wren said with tears streaming down her cheeks. "All of them."

A deep kind of sadness passed over Alice's face. Wren ignored her grandmother and stood quickly. She aggressively wiped the tears from her cheeks as she looked down at her mother's fallen form.

"They'll pay for this."

Alice stood beside her. Instead of looking down at Arlena, her gaze was focused on the fallen forms around her daughter's body. Arlena hadn't gone down without a fight.

"How can you not be angry?" Wren whirled towards her grandmother. Her sorrow had boiled over into an intense rage. A rage she had learned from Arlena.

"My dear, I am angry. So very angry," Alice said sadly. "I'm so angry that I brought your mother into the world and planted anger in her heart. I'm angry that my only daughter died with so much hatred in her veins. And most of all...I'm angry that you have so much of Arlena in you."

Wren starred at Alice in shock. "This...this isn't about being a Hunter...this is about those monsters. Those creatures killed her."

"No," Alice said. "Her anger did."

Wren woke with a start. Her heart raced from the strange memory that had resurfaced in her dream. She looked over at Orla who was curled beside the fire. The tiny orange kitten was asleep against Orla's chest.

Wren was surprised to find that Kacien was still awake, watching the fire. His emerald eyes met hers from across the fire.

"Travel is said to give introspective dreams," Kacien said. "Is it true?"

"I'm not sure," Wren said. "I don't dream."

A small smirk tugged at Kacien's lips. He merely nodded.

"Why are you still awake?"

"I don't need sleep like you all do," he said. "Resting beside a fire is enough for me."

Wren gazed at the fire. She thought of her mother, Arlena. If she were still alive, she would have disowned Wren for even having a conversation with someone like Kacien.

"I probably shouldn't say this," Kacien said suddenly. "But I'm glad Orla is here."

Wren was surprised by the admission. "Yeah?"

"Orla and I used to be so close," he began. "She used to tell me everything. But now...she's pulling away. She lied about going to Greystorm and meeting you. She won't listen to what I have to say about her family in Leshaw."

"She has family in Leshaw?"

"Distant family, but yes."

"Does she remember them?"

"No," he admitted. "I don't think she's ever even met them."

Wren could have chuckled. "Well, that's the problem. Why are you forcing her to go somewhere she knows no one?"

"I'm not forcing anything but...I just think it would be best for her to be with her own kind."

Wren let out a sigh. "You can't force her to want something that she doesn't want to do," she said. Despite herself, she felt sorry for Kacien. Well, a little sorry, anyway.

Wren gazed over at Orla, sleeping soundly. She looked warm and peaceful, covered with Kacien's cloak. Wren had to admit that Kacien did look out for the child. However, she still knew that it wasn't right for a child to be living with an Elemental like Kacien.

"I'm sure in time, she'll understand."

A strange expression passed over Kacien's face.

"You're right," Wren said lightly. "It's probably for the best that she finds her own kind. Magical and non-magical creatures don't belong together."

He gave a slow nod.

She gazed up at the stars, thinking of all the stories Alice had once told her. Arlena had hated the fairytales, but once-upon-a-time Wren loved stories.