“Cha … ris,” Halius stuttered, an uncharacteristic tremor in his voice.

Halius often called her by name, although this time, this instance, an obvious difference. Always confident, always in command, his noble blood and birthright drummed into him since birthing day and every day hence. His impenetrable noble façade is as natural as breathing. Until this moment.

Quickly dismissing the possibility of finishing Charis placed the bloodied knife on the ground, hand trembling, and gingerly placed the half-naked rabbit to one side. Her clear blue eyes searched for his while rising from the improvised butchering bench, a fallen tree trunk. The abandoned half-dressed rabbit laying upright, pink flesh chest exposed, was possibly a humorous sight to those who didn’t need to hunt to survive. Yet the macabre sight of its glazed and lifeless eyes, which kept a dead-eyed watch upon the sharp, steel instrument of its de-clothing, haunting. The forest, in sympathy with one of its own, fell into collaborative silence, the breeze stilled, and the birds hushed their song.

With each re-occurring dream of Halius, when a young girl, they would run away together living happily ever after because he saved her for a shared future, didn’t he, surely, although a doubt always lingered. When young the dream would dismiss the disagreeable, the plan simple even if false and unrealistic, not considering the possible and impossible such as noble-born and peasant outcast. His square jaw, long sandy brown hair framing dreamy amber eyes, what wasn’t to appreciate, Halius and Charis, together and happy forever. The fact he respected others beyond immediate family and himself confirmed every day beyond accepted reason his approval of her, Charis the village outcast, the cursed one who caused every wrong and deserved any blame. The bad luck and the ill omen of the village.

“Charis … I.”

He swallowed yet again, stalling, unable to continue. Her eyes were upon him, observing his throat tighten, her own hands twisting and entwining in response, wondering about the importance or significance of what he attempted to say. Her thoughts ran wild, quickly settling upon her dream. Together and alone in the Forest, away from his hateful Mother squatting in the Keep, now unlike many times before, able to offer more … for an unknown reason. Their chat to this point functional, Charis assuming his greater silence this hunting trip due to familiarity. Why is this moment so special, so difficult for him? He is eighteen now, they both know, everyone knows he must now choose his life direction. She sixteen; of an age, able to wed … suddenly nerve endings tingle, flesh goosebumps spread from head to toe as an impossibility dawned, previously only imagined. Certain he didn’t talk to Father; neither able to be alone without her. A final telling question, would a noble need to ask? Her heart skipped a desperate beat.

“Down,” Halius whispered.

Charis reacted immediately to Halius’ command returning to the present in an instant, a compliant child ward under noble protection, safe and sound. Obeying him for over ten years, natural, instinctive be it to avoid his Mother and Tutors when younger or predatory beasts of the forest when older, knowing no other way.

Charis and Halius remain silent, both crouching behind the same bush and brush. His concentration was intense, neck vein throbbing. Charis attempts to listen to the forest about them yielding silence. Where did the noises of the forest go, why didn’t she notice? Her mouth opens to ask then closes on empty words. Their camp catches her eye. Laid out in perfect order, his bedroll one side of the campfire, hers opposite. The drying rabbit meat and rabbit skin lay on a third side, the offal buried on the opposite side, although well away. Their reward after a long day of hunting, everything in its place, everything as it should be except for Halius.

A clear, distinct snap shatters the silence oppressing them. It could mean nothing, an animal taking flight, it could mean a predator, the aroma of their drying fresh meat a lure. Halius suspects deliberate, which he doesn’t share with his ward, an occasional unintentional footfall leading up to this moment the tell, convincing him.

“Together, you look left, and I will look right.”

Charis nodded curtly to confirm, speechless. He spoke how many words then? Moments before, struggling to say her name.

Shoulder to shoulder they rise. The twang of an arrow releasing alerts them, while an after rustle of foliage reveals the multiple sources. Halius and Charis drop to the forest floor none the wiser, their immediate urgency to save their lives.

Four arrows fly overhead, where they stood a thumping heartbeat ago. They glance at each other and swallow. The arrows meant the worse predator they knew hunted them, one intelligent enough to use weapons and plan ambushes.

Halius gently held Charis down with one hand while slowly rising to steal another peek and dropping quickly to the ground, amber eyes wide and the whites dominating. Charis forgot to breathe in anticipation.

“They’re, well, I can’t believe it, they’re goblins,” he said, pausing to think some more, frowning, dismay etched upon his glorious face.

Charis released her breath, gobsmacked. “Surely, we can out hunt four goblins, you can draw them with your spear, and I can ambush with my bow.”

Halius’ wide eyes bore directly into Charis’ calm ones.

“They’re large Charis, larger than you, a hand width shorter than me. I hunted them in the mountains last month with my father’s retinue. Those I saw then small cowardly things, these are not.”

“We are running then?” Amazed she spoke the questioning words, despite complete trust in his leadership.

Wait a moment she twigged! Last month, father and son together? When did the Lord Baron spend time with his second son?

“We must, they are repositioning closer,” said Halius, answering Charis abruptly, inviting no debate or discussion, his noble façade returning.

Quickly gathering possessions from their camp, then up and running, hurrying through bush and brush for cover, desperate. A volley of arrows striking trees as they sprint by, quickly informing them the enemy covered three sides. Halius and Charis veering towards the obvious opening, expecting a trap. Their stomachs churning, realising they are the prey now, in a Goblin hunter’s game.

“Definitely four archers then and we have an opening,” Halius confirmed.

“I would imagine these are the ones we’ve been teaching and feeding?”

“I would say they appreciate what we have taught them, and their aim excellent, four releases and each close and motivating although this deep in the forest a clear release difficult, fortunately.” An arrow then struck a nearby tree seemingly proving his words true.

“So why don’t we stop and talk to them oh wise one?” Charis said, taking in a deep breath, her lungs burning for air.

“Oh, appreciation doesn’t mean mercy, I don’t think they want to kill us, although they certainly will if we stop running, so let’s run straight, test my theory by gambling our lives,” he commands, while zigging his last zag. His theory bore fruit when they stop zig-zagging and started running in a straight line as much as the forest allowed gaining speed and distance. Their pursuers needed to chase more and release arrows less to keep in contact with them.

---

Instantly, Charis panicked! The ground beneath her busy feet was gone, falling, and flailing wildly she plummeted into chilled flowing water after bursting through some low bushes. Bushes which lined and thereby concealed a cliff-like bank of a recently eroded stream. Arms wave and thrash madly, splashing water away to reach for air, her feet kicking freely not touching the bottom of the stream. Despite these efforts with her body still sinking, her mouth swallows a mix of cool forest air and frigid meltwater. The realisation and horror of death by drowning assaults her sanity, the threat of the ultimate curse purges her bravery, hope fading. Her last thought was, I am sorry Father!

A vice-like grip latches onto her arm preventing any further flailing. Instinctively resisting, her body shifts instead and desperate to live her other arm reaches over to try and break this threatening grip. Drawing in breath to ready herself for the fight, a couple of realisations occur. Her head now bobs above the water! Halius! Halius is beside her. Her free hand now latches onto his muscular arm, a rock, utter safety amongst the fear and dread, a chance for her sanity to return. Hand over hand down the arm, reaching for his neck, her arms wrap around this final surety, head out of the water, and therefore soul saved. Halius to the rescue, never in doubt or ever questioned, always nearby keeping her safe.

Safe now. Soul saved. Her mind tumbles over and over in thought. If not for Halius, her hero, what then. Lips quivering, tears well up behind her eyes …

“Not so tight, I still need to breathe!” he gasps.

The moment broken, Charis emerging fully from panic, his ordinary, functional words triggering a calmness like a room warmed by a fireplace, an expectation met. He nudges and jostles her body into a piggyback position, a game they both knew and grew up playing together, arms hooking around broad shoulders, while her hands join over his heart. The side of her head resting upon a wet mat of sandy brown hair, the intimacy not lost on her or Halius. Her hero strides to the opposite shore pushing through the stream’s current seemingly immune to the snowmelt feeding the fury of the stream.

Heart bursting with joy, warmth spreading throughout his body, he kept his promise, he protected and saved a life. The moment, a reminder also, for when duty called him away another would need to be found, to protect her.

With Charis secure and one-third of the stream yet to be crossed, Halius pumped his legs into motion, hurrying, he didn’t want them to be caught in the wash of the stream. They urgently needed to make the opposite shore and perhaps their sudden drop from view would cover their escape. Did the Goblin hunters following them know about the stream? If not, they may pause, be uncertain, need to confer and the delay may make the difference. Halius striding desperately forward convincing himself his theory to be fact, not wanting to be easy wading targets for any archers on the opposite riverbank.

Climbing over her hero, Charis reaches for the top of the steep bank dragging herself to solid ground. Swivelling around on her belly and drawing upon her meagre strength, she supports Halius as he scrapes and claws his way up the same bank. Tired, they crawl away from the bank, hiding in the nearby thick brush. Watching for their attackers, the fading slope of the ground on their side of the stream limited their view to the treetops on the other side. Neither game to chance a peek, choosing to rely on their hearing instead.

Glancing at each other and exchanging relieving smiles they are safe for the moment, although beyond the present, the unknown, they are in serious trouble, no escaping this fact. Venturing this deep into an old forest, new to them, new to anyone currently living in the Duchy yet Halius and Charis still live and where there is life, there is hope.

Charis’ chest hitches in a sob. “Halius, I am sorry…”

With tenderness, he placed a finger across her lips.

“Your fear of losing your life to a watery death, losing your soul forever, is natural. I’m fortunate my height allowed me to touch the bottom and walk the stream with my head above water. You, my short hunting companion not so fortunate.” Halius ensured his smile didn’t go to waste by deftly repositioning a finger under her chin and raising her head until face to face.

Hoots and jeers from across the stream fade over time, hinting their hunters were now done with their game. Both hunted youths remove their boots and socks, tipping out and twisting out any water, acknowledging their safety.

Shuffling closer to Charis, Halius kisses her forehead tenderly resisting the temptation to embrace, he didn’t want to cross a line, the piggyback reminding him of how easy a misunderstanding could develop if reinforced by other displays of deep affection. As a Lord’s son their feelings didn’t matter, Charis, a commoner, could never join his world. To suggest more could be possible; false and cruel.

They sprang up scurrying from underneath their camouflage, escaping the awkward moment, boots, and socks to hand. Away from the brush Charis’ gaze fixates upon the stream and the generational fear of watery death all citizens of the Duchy acknowledge.

Charis chews over each dread word in an unwilling whisper. “Can we wade back over the stream?”

“I don’t think so,” he declares, “we leapt a fair way across, me further than you so that part of the stream is unknown.”

Charis bends over, her hands upon her knees to steady herself, squeezing her eyes shut once before standing. Halius lightly places a hand upon her shoulder while continuing a deliberately casual, analytical reply.

“The banks are high as the Death Season water melt has already flowed, so no telling how deep the mysterious part is since this shore is steep as well. I would rather trust in our hunting skills and find another way.”

The wrinkles gracing Halius’ brow informed Charis his mind was busy exploring possibilities or weighing up dangers, nevertheless. Contemplating crossing the stream by himself, maybe. Knowing each other so long; they could read each other’s truths regardless of what they said otherwise. Charis recalled then how he said her name at their camp, did she really know him? If not, who or what changed her Halius? What changed over the last Death Season? Their first hunt of the season greatly delayed for one; noble business apparently and being so relieved to begin, she didn’t question why. Now though she surmises … delay, coupled with the unusual quiet of this hunting trip was perhaps not a benefit of their familiarity like she assumed, maybe instead, due to the weight of change yet to be announced.

Charis chewed her bottom lip and lowered her eyes. Halius’ trepidation to say her name; his news must be momentous and life-changing, the only explanation.

Did she fail to see the signs? Charis admonished herself for not noticing them if they existed, young trusting girl behaviour. At sixteen, now a woman, she would need to be and act more mature, especially if her dream came true. The piggyback, she could have held an arm instead. His kiss upon her forehead, relieved concern, mature, nothing like in times past the encouraging kisses of an older brother to a younger sister she concluded. Could her dream happen?

“Those chasing us would probably object as well,” Charis said, jesting, lifting her face to meet his trying to recover her composure, knowing the attempt feeble. Deliberately weak perhaps to gain sympathy, she pondered. Would she lure and tempt him? Her childhood saviour and friend. Other girls of course tried with Halius while an immature Charis secretly sniggered at their failures.

“There is that of course and arrows hurt. If I knew we would be hunting Goblins though, I would have packed my shield.”

His warm smile greets her, while his strong arms wrap around her shoulders, deftly avoiding bow and backpack, the hug encouraging rivulets of water to flow from them. Halius’ reassurance was obvious, confirming they would find another way. Secretly licking her lips, Charis leant into his embrace, surely acceptance of their closeness meant … more?

Water began to pool and drip on their bare feet. Then a gentle breeze caressed them, wind chill insinuating itself allying with the stream’s snow meltwater. The moment was broken and Charis inwardly cursed, as Halius realised they remained very wet from the stream, progressing to very cold and therefore needing to separate. They did a double-take for different reasons, glancing at each other, Halius’ rumbling bellow of a laugh quickly matched by Charis’s high pitch peals of laughter … she couldn’t reach out for him again, too desperate, too obvious; falling back instead to play along. Charis reconciled all the same, willing to endure cold discomfort for his closeness. Why didn’t he know that she thought?

Halius considered their situation ridiculous; wet and messy, low on supplies and lost if they can’t wade across the stream and backtrack to their original camp. Relieved when they both sobered up to their situation, their laughter fading, no point alerting others to their presence. They urgently needed to remove their wet clothes … how he asked himself, his dilemma interrupted by Charis.

“Did you notice any of their arrows?”

“Yes, they appear remarkably similar to ours, another thing we taught them it seems.” Swivelling his head about at a loss, water-soaked body chilling with each passing moment.

Charis squelches away from the stream bank to a grassy area nearby and Halius gladly follows. She balks and peers in his direction and then deliberately plonks one wet foot after another until ten paces separated them. Halius pausing slightly amused until catching on as Charis attends to her backpack. Both finally realised they needed to inspect their leftovers, quickly breaking out their backpacks and inventorying their weapons. Awkwardly they both return to the silent question of their wet clothes, sneaking each other several covert looks. Both remove their leathers and let them dry in the sun, either on the ground or hanging from sun struck branches.

Cautiously Charis throws an end of her wet blanket to Halius. As he instinctively grabs it, she twists her end and once sure he understands continues to twist to squeeze as much water as possible from it.

“Clever, my turn I guess,” said Halius.

“Woman’s work.”

Halius throws his head back coughing out a laugh.

Charis throws her folded blanket over her shoulder to free her hands in preparation, shortly after narrowing her eyes. Halius, oblivious, threads a wet blanket around an immature tree twisting the ends, his strength the sole limiting factor. He then throws the nearly dry blanket over a low bush, still under sunlight. Turning to face Charis, chest puffed up, deflating moments after under her withering gaze.

“Do you want yours wrung out a little more?” His feigned cute timid voice asks, almost apologetic.

Charis nods while displaying a polite smile, taking the blanket from her shoulder and handing it to him, instead of shouting at him, ‘they need to work as one’, like perhaps, husband and wife. Halius repeats the effort under her gaze, a bounce to his step as he welcomes some return to normality, him fixing something for Charis.

“You have a Shield?”

He almost drops the ends of her blanket upon hearing the question. Silently he unwraps the blanket from around the tree, deliberately stalling, dragging his feet, eventually handing her blanket back, eyes fixed to the ground. She absently takes it and continues to stare up at him waiting for a reply, avoidance not an option.

Didn’t she need to leave and fling the blanket over a bush! No escape, he notices her foot tapping away.

His eyes rise, ready to face her verdict. “As I told you, I hunted Goblins with my father the Baron and his retinue last month.”

His eye twitched ever so slightly. She knew all his tells. He shortened the tale, therefore, more to be prized free from his reluctant lips.

“Yes, Noble business, your Mother happily informed me, unusual for her to be happy … I should have been more enquiring and less trusting perhaps …,” said Charis.

“I couldn’t say no to my Father and wouldn’t to my Lord Baron, it is my duty to serve him. I am eighteen now and need to be trained so I can properly prepare ...”

She noted Halius’ mouth pause open and then snap shut.

Still more to be revealed, Charis ground her teeth lightly and then decided Halius, second son of the Lord Baron of Lonely Keep could believe question time finished, further enquiry could wait until later. For now, wrapped in her bedroll, she flicked a hand at him to chase him away while back turned she shimmied off wet linen clothes. An urgent need to dry her hunting leathers and underclothes abruptly taking priority. When her next interrogation of him resumed, she should be warm and comfortable …

Halius deliberately turned away from Charis once subjected to her waving hand, somewhat relieved he admitted to himself. Days from now he would ride from the Keep to the City and begin Judge Knight Aspirant training and travel a new path. Therefore, anything at the Keep needed to be left behind and no point in hinting at any future impossibilities, although he sensed a mood change in Charis after he answered her questions. They would need to be in a safe place before he could fully explain, he owed her that at least, and a protector while absent. Perhaps his bodyguard?

Being male, he easily stripped down to breeches and while not required by etiquette he wrapped the damp blanket high around his body, same as Charis. Rung out garments shortly ended up over a sunlit bush. Collecting dead twigs and leaves, retrieving a flint near his emptied backpack he decided the next task would be to start a campfire. This, was to keep him busy and provide some warmth as night approached, having decided they would camp here tonight. Shrouded by foliage and off any game trail, the low light from their campfire shouldn’t place them in any danger, he hoped.

With the campfire started they both kept themselves extremely busy airing and checking their gear and clothes once and then again avoiding each other, both uncomfortable, both aware of their naked flesh under their blankets. Charis more so than Halius. While the circumstances were odd, the real difference was simple; at eighteen, the Keep and the Village acknowledged Halius an adult; meanwhile Charis a maid at sixteen not yet an adult, although now highly eligible to be betrothed and would be considered an adult the moment of her marriage. Once her father passed the responsibility of her welfare to her husband, she needed to be an adult to be able to act on behalf of her husband during any absences and be held accountable. Charis expanded on her previous thoughts to avoid thinking about her nakedness protected solely by a thin dull grey blanket of separation and the fact she wasn’t far from the man she cherished her whole teenage life, who this day saved her soul.

As the right pieces of underclothes or leathers dried, Halius and Charis immediately dressed in them. Charis kept busy fixing one of their already prepared rabbits, a survivor from their hasty decamping, over their fire. Both welcomed the warmth of the fire and rabbit meat when done.

“Thank you, a belly full of warm meat is always appreciated,” said Halius.

His warm reassuring smile was highlighted by the glow of the campfire as the sun fell and dusk loomed.

Charis looked over her eyebrows at Halius before she spoke. “Hunting Goblins prepares you for what?”

Panic blazed from Halius’ amber eyes. Charis’ patience suitably rewarded, she now squatted cross-armed, a smirk gracing her lips, warming nicely by the fire, awaiting his reply.

“My Mother thought …” Halius whispered the three words, throwing them out to see if Charis would react or listen. To his surprise, silence.

“My mother thought I would be well suited to attend the Birth Season Summoning in the City and endure the training and trials to be ordained a Judge Knight Aspirant.”

One simple sentence hastily spoken explained everything although Charis focused on who: his Mother. When younger his Mother liked her or at least feigned it superbly. The commoner outcast, with such eagerness to learn encouraged her son to learn also, reading, writing, courtly manners and etiquette, all of it proper for the son of a Baron. She could keep an effortless eye on both students while in the Keep. That changed when they started hunting and trapping these past four years. Then she wanted to be rid of me groused Charis and now the Summoning is going to finally achieve her utmost desire, our separation. Charis laughed and cried internally when the word betrothed flashed before her. Silly girl, his Mother would never permit it, how could she have deluded herself, foolish! What are you, Charis? Stupid. Instantly answering her own question.

Halius continued, Charis’ silence encouraged him. He didn’t realise Charis’ head spun from the revelation, her single conclusion, his Mother to blame. Charis withdrew from the light of the campfire, an outcast, disfigured commoner belonging more in the shadows. Returned to her proper place; for a moment in his company, she dared to dream and forgot his Mother. All now shattered, reality returning like a knock-out punch to the face.

“Now eighteen, Mother convinced Father as a noble’s son I have duties and responsibilities and I needed to grow up.”

“Your Mother?” Charis’ face twisted slightly. Now in the shadows, her disgust remained her secret as she spoke the two words plainly, still recovering from the initial shock, confirming who to blame not actually replying to Halius’ explanation.

Halius’ body lent forward, the firelight highlighting his sparkling and gleaming amber eyes, and with high pitched voice, said, “Yes, she convinced Father to allow me to accompany him into the foothills with his retinue and hunt goblins.”

“Isn’t your Mother the one we always ran away from, avoided and now she seems to be your advocate in the eyes of your Father?” Charis held back her belly laugh, her face though not so much, twisting into scorn, thankful for the shadows. His ridiculous acceptance of his Mother astounding her.

“Before perhaps, things have changed between her and I. When I returned from the hunt with Father, she met and greeted us accompanied by the Priest of Judge. The three most important people in the Barony talked to me Charis, about me and my future! Listening to my thoughts, acknowledging my council.”

Face glowing, eyes shining, the firelight probably not doing them justice given the extent of his elation and she understood why. Being the second son, Halius lived as the spare, the heir just in case the eldest son, his brother Balius the actual heir, died. Charis didn’t realise until this moment he held back this joy, recognition from his family at last, as they must have explained their future for him. An unknown future until then and otherwise resigned to exist in the company of the village outcast with no greater ambition. Charis didn’t trust his Mother. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be happy for him, he deserved a future, good-hearted and true, her Halius, her hero.

His hands flew to the front of him, animated, open-palmed. “Not only am I going to the Birth Season Summoning, but Mother also arranged for a teacher. He will escort me and prepare me.”

Halius took in a deep breath, finally able to tell someone his secret. His hulking body rising from the ground, skipping, and jumping by the campfire, flashing in and out of shadow, an inner excitement no longer contained.

“Wouldn’t a teacher, I mean, the cost Halius?” Charis felt the Keep groan in the distance, a lack of funds inevitably turns a Keep into a pile of rubble according to the tutor they once shared at least.

“I realise the sacrifice, which is why I know they love me. They love me Charis, Mother, and Father, there is no doubt.”

“Halius sit please, you will trip in the dark and land on the campfire if not me.”

Halius stopped immediately; a child caught doing something naughty. Charis held her laughter, he probably didn’t realise his jumping around looked foolish. He stood in front of her, looked down, and then shrugged.

“You know what this means to me?”

Charis understood. Halius going to the summoning would be expected. As a second son he needed to be put somewhere safe, yet available and away from the Keep. What Halius clung to though; beyond what his parents deserved, the illusion the Baron and Baroness loved him, for him. Charis knew a father’s love and Halius’ parents didn’t demonstrate love; they instead devised a plan to protect their noble legacy. Probably all nobles did, Charis didn’t know, she simply despised these nobles and their manipulation of him.

Swallowing hard, her heart burning she needed to release him, her Hero. He rescued her from those taunting and mocking village children so many years ago. Her vivid memory of their cruelty; children pick on different. Initially, she thought they did because she looked ugly, accusing her father of having to love his child no matter how ugly! At great expense, a loving father purchased a small tin framed mirror to prove to his daughter the truth. The logic of a five-year-old, she inwardly cringed at her young self. She touched the top of her right ear without realising it, the top of it missing, like the other one. Covering them both with her hair didn’t help for another reason, the unique colour of her hair. Her differences were obvious to everyone for sixteen Death Seasons and when she didn’t comprehend in the beginning, her tormentors quickly explained. The open torment stopped once she came under the protection of her young gallant.

“Yes, I asked the servants when I couldn’t find you in the Keep last month,” she lied, “they didn’t have many details except you would be travelling to the City. It makes sense now and I wish you well.” She needed to set him free, her hurt would heal, Halius needed to rise above her, live beyond the reach of his mother, and be hailed the champion from the Lonely Keep.

“I always thought my parents, they, you know …”

When Halius hesitated, Charis thought he detected her lie, they knew each other well, although this trip proved an exception at times and this one of them, he mistook her response as doubt. Charis allowed the silence to lengthen, she didn’t know the right words to say, and she didn’t think she could lie again.

“You doubt my parent’s sincerity don’t you,” he whispered, not willing to admit the possibility, hanging onto the illusion. He stomped around the campfire advancing upon Charis.

“They …” Charis started to speak and then stopped, face to face, noses a finger-width apart, eyes locked. As the silence accumulated, she averted her eyes from his, now moistening. Strong hands cupped her cheeks and returned her face to his pleading view. They breathed an exchange of air.

“I am happy for you and regardless of my belief, your truth is what matters,” Charis said, her voice flat, sniffling afterwards.

“I see the love your father holds for you, and you return to him, so I know parental love and I know my parents have … faults. In this though I must believe they are sincere, they finally acknowledge me, they value me …” he trailed off, a single hot tear running down his cheek.

Saying the words to another, confessing them, letting them escape, thoughts no longer will always reveal your belief or lack of belief in them. Charis knew whatever he said he held doubts.

Halius released Charis and smartly returned to “his side” of the campfire. Charis relaxed back into the shadows, sitting cross-legged, hugging her legs, holding on tight.

“Well tell me more,” Charis said, once they both settled. She tried to add excitement and joy to her voice. She knew though her Halius planned to leave and soon, perhaps weeks, more likely days. It explained the Goblin hunt, the sword practice, and his mother’s gloating as Halius spent more time, since the finish of Death Season, away from his pet commoner. His mother’s nasty name for her.

Charis indulged in self-reflection for the first time, not realising others may see her differently, beyond the obvious hair colour, its length over her disfigured ears to allow people to forget or avoid seeing them. With her now on this hunting, everything she owned, much she handcrafted. For the first time, she felt shame, not pride in her rabbit and deerskin vest and long pants, shame in her large leather floppy hat and quiver. Did people think her strange because of her clothes now? Halius’ deep breath before his final words broke her introspect.

“… and then he will show me around the city,” he finished.

“When do you leave?” Her voice was now dull, she couldn’t pretend.

“Not until the end of this Month ...” He abruptly stopped talking and his eye twitched ever so slightly.

Charis grimaced and tried to guess the rest. “This will be the last time we can hunt together and since I haven’t been invited into the Keep this year, probably the last time we will be able to talk.”

Halius threw a small twig onto their campfire, avoiding eye contact and swallowing before answering. “Yes. Mother says it is best, I am on a new path now and mustn’t be distracted.”

“Good advice as always,” retorted Charis, her lips twisting unnoticed by Halius.

Halius’ eager smile greeted her across the campfire. “Mother allowed me to go on this hunting trip, I told her, I needed to say goodbye, properly.”

Charis unfolded her body from her cross-legged sitting position and lay back on her bedroll, reaching for the privacy of the dark, brooding.

Halius reminisced, they could both be different when they returned to the forest. His sandy brown hair, common to noble families within the Duchy marked him as much as black hair marked those who weren’t noble. He wondered where this placed Charis’ deep dark brown hair, which is why she covered it when not here. Here though, he knew she could be free. Here she could howl if needed, if she only allowed herself to, although without him, she could never return, her wild heart would be caged, bound within the village.

With those words spoken, Charis acknowledged his Mother the victor. His Mother was unconcerned about pregnancies; more concerned the commoner pet would drag her noble son down to a commoner level or even lower. Worse, they would elope and run off to live in the forest together, forever. To prevent such a possibility his Mother decided to plan his future, finally take an interest in him after eighteen Death Seasons and pretend her love for him.

The dark and the night sounds of the forest surrounded them, their voices going silent. Halius decided more needed to be said and threw more kindling onto their campfire to bring Charis out of the shadow.

“Do you remember how we first met?” A quiet in his voice, trying to return them to gentle conversation and remember how they started their long companionship.

Charis smiled, she remembered, inwardly appreciating the change of subject.

“How could I forget my Hero?” she chirped.

“You were struggling with your buckets of water, the village children taunting you, throwing rotten vegetables either at you or into your buckets,” Halius recalled.

“Then they stopped. I heard a yell, and they ran off. People always yelled at me, so I just turned around and didn’t look at you but the huge Guard with you. Then you offered your hands and took my buckets, so kind.”

“It was the right thing to do to help you up and help carry your burden.”

“Yes, a terrible time for me, just after my mother, well left and they teased me endlessly about my mad mother instead of my hair for a change and trying to see what she did to them.” Charis absently touched her ears.

“I felt an odd kinship, your unique hair colour shall we say and my noble hair colour, separated us from others. Then my Guard used our meeting to gain an introduction to your father, being quite impressed with your father’s craft and wanting to learn. My Guard suggested to my mother that you could have a calming influence on me and so it began. We visited often, spending more time together and then my lessons.”

“Now it ends?” Charis confirmed, asking as a question to be certain no reprieve existed.

He contemplated her words, finally resigned to the truth of them.

“What we have now ends, but the future us is just beginning. I know I am leaving for many years and during that time you must find your place.”

He grinned then, wide, a small chuckle followed.

“Those who decide to tease you now, you would be able to punish them for their lack of manners, although your shortish hair and large hat have caused most to forget about your differences. A change to proper clothes and no one would recognise the old you.”

“You don’t like my hunter’s outfit then?” Doubt laced her words.

“For this journey, they’re ideal, for your next journey perhaps not. It is time for you, like me to walk a different path.”

“Yes, I doubt my father would allow me to hunt alone.” Charis paused considering the reality. “No one will befriend me in the village.”

Charis drew back into shadow repositioning her bottom on her blanket as her eyes moistened and an ache grew in her chest. Alone and unloved.

“We have been like brother and sister for more than eleven years and while our paths will separate now, we will meet again.” His voice straining as he spoke, Charis’ melancholy didn’t escape him this time.

“I appreciate … will always appreciate our years. Our companionship allowed me to learn, a lowly outcast commoner able to read.” Chin trembling, tears welling up, unusual for her and she startled herself. Since her mother’s runaway, as a five-year-old, blaming herself, she didn’t think she had any tears left, her body proving her wrong.

Charis found something to correct with her improvised bedroll called blanket to escape her welling tears.

“What other peasant girl has been able to do that? I have learnt to hunt and trap, use a bow, I should be thankful, I am thankful.” She stood, stamping her feet, needing to pace, refusing to cry.

Arms drew her into an embrace before she could escape. Hands rested on the back of her head, protective, her memory flashing back to their childhood. The village children didn’t run from Halius of course, they ran from his soldier bodyguard, not that Charis made the distinction at the time.

“You always turn to the practical don’t you, the skills you have learnt, read, trap, hunt and bow. You can weep with me if you like, I will always miss you,” Halius said slowly, his voice heavy with compassion. After eleven years he still needed to invite her to cry, worse, the invitation sometimes refused. Perhaps her tears left with her mother he mused.

Feeling her sob uncontrollably within his grasp, the shock of her tearing caused him to caress her short hair. When he caressed her hair, the colour always amazed him, and he thought only about this to prevent himself from saying anything stupid. A deep dark brown, a uniqueness to mark her, only allowed free and uncovered while they hunted and trapped. While smoothing her hair in steady rhythmic strokes he carefully avoided the hacked off tops of her ears, he only made the mistake of touching them once, when younger.

Halius enjoyed Charis crying. His happiness, not stemming from being cruel, he silently cheered every time she exposed her rare softer side. Her mother’s cruelty cried her out and the bullies hardened her, therefore every time she softened, he considered it a step in the right direction, even if their separation was the cause. His concern turned to who would see her cry, if she ever cried again, in the future.

Cried out, he laid Charis down on her improvised bedroll and returned to his. The campfire would burn out during the night unattended and while the warmth would have been welcomed, both required sleep for the next day.

+++

The dawn sunlight cast shade over their campsite, allowing them a pleasant necessary sleep in. Neither gained bragging rights as they rolled and stretched themselves awake within moments of each other. They broke their fast on the cold meat left on the rabbit, supplemented by some doubtful cheese and a couple of rescued apples. Decamping quickly, they hurried in search of a game trail to try and ease their passage through this unknown part of the forest. The thick wild forest canopy blocking most of the sunlight once away from the stream forcing them to tramp underneath eerie shade and shadow.

The lack of a game trail required Halius to push a path through the undergrowth, thick beside the stream as the sinking or rising sun reached either side in turn. Their only immediate choice as animals will always make their way to water, therefore at some point, a game trail would lead to the stream. The stream nearby also provided them with water within easy reach.

Mid-morning and not too many scratches later Halius broke through to find a game trail, one which crossed the stream. Not giving into false hope or wasting energy on excitement, Halius and Charis both rested on their haunches studying the opportunity. The banks on both sides of the stream steep, recently carved by fast-moving snowmelt and therefore suggesting the ford, previously joining both ends of the game trail no longer existed. With no other choice, they followed the slightly overgrown game trail away from the stream, deeper into the forest.

The game trail reduced the number of new scratches and marks upon Halius, although the trail still required clearing, so Halius needed to expend some effort. Charis didn’t talk to him, she had nothing to say, and he needed every breath for the task she reasoned.

After some time, he pushed through a final brush or bush overhanging the game trail to reveal a new path. This appeared to be a game trail except clearly much more. They could track it visibly running further into the forest; wide and well used. They, thankfully, could also observe it going in the opposite direction, back towards the stream. Exchanging a glance, they reached out to each other and embraced, twirling together in celebration, both resisting the urge to squeal and shout. Halius and Charis knew they would need to cross the stream at some point, and this may offer another crossing point, possibly a ford and maybe, just maybe more. Hope at last.

“They would be looking for us by now, right?”

Her shallow breath cut through the birdsong easily, while walking at pace, not quite running although most definitely hurrying. They mutually agreed to the pace unspoken, driven by hope.

“Not yet,” he answered weakly. What would the right answer be, he deliberated? They both knew those at the Keep accepted he and Charis could disappear for a day or two while hunting. Therefore, answering yes would be a lie. Answering no, happy, and confident would mean they were safe and didn’t need rescuing, again a lie, he found the courage to admit. How would Charis interpret his response?

Charis noted he didn’t glance at her when he spoke. Was Halius more concerned about being lost in the forest, instead of any justice coming his way when he returned?

“They would still be concerned, even though you have an older brother,” Charis offered, hoping he would reply with assurance, with humour, just reply Judge Knight Aspirant will you!

The width of the game trail also ensured no overhangs would strike them, which enabled them to talk easily. Charis was still somewhat concerned about the trail’s direction, did it exist to ease the way for travellers to cross through the forest or to lead them elsewhere? She held her tongue, now not the time to question, otherwise, she would cast doubt on their hope when they both needed all on offer regardless of the truth.

“I am the spare, they know it and I know it,” Halius said, finishing with a cheeky grin.

Charis threw him a disapproving glance, at least he replied, eventually.

Halius walked and tried with grace to bow at the same time, catching himself before stumbling.

“Still, I have always been respectful and attended to my learning,” Halius continued, mock seriousness.

“Only due to me!” Charis replied, indignant.

“Then there is my mother, who would be upset if I destroyed her plans.” He winked her way.

“Let us hope the trail crosses this stream we seem to be following and if it does, it is at a very shallow point,” she added, pleased by the return of his humour and occasional glance her way.

He nodded in confirmation and agreement, as they both knew it would make it difficult otherwise; they needed to cross back and not fail.

“Those goblins did learn from us, didn’t they?” Charis said, offering conversation to prevent either of them from dwelling on the possibility of failure.

“They made their arrows, of that I am certain and while an arrow is an arrow is an arrow, they followed our feathering pattern, style, number and length.”

“As our catches reduced, I felt someone attended to the trap line before us, traps reset differently on occasion, although lately none of that, just fewer rabbits.”

“They improved their proficiency, and we became an unnecessary competition.” He huffed. “Perhaps the real reason they hunted us. Not to kill. To warn off, in a small way leaving us with our lives as thanks for teaching them, not that it matters. I doubt either of us will hunt, here again, your father will not allow you to return alone, and I will be elsewhere.”

“Is that all? Aren’t you furious someone stole our catch, hunted us?” She deliberately ignored the other truth in his words, the hurt when he nonchalantly confirmed the reality of their separation.

“They must need the catch more than us and the forest is very large, so we can leave them to it now in the firm knowledge we have indirectly taught others how to catch food and survive. Isn’t that a worthy thing?”

Charis was concerned this charity would result in disastrous consequences, although she admired him for his kindness, perhaps the same kindness, which caused him to stop and help her all those years ago. She let it go as the wide and clear game trail began to trouble her. The width was beyond the ability of game animals to keep clear, unless incredibly large and plentiful. Therefore, if not animals, then what and more importantly why?

“Have you ever seen or travelled a game trail this wide and this even? It would be better than some of the trails in your father’s land, the ones we call roads,” Charis said, hiding a cheeky grin behind a cough.

“No. It is amazing, smooth and wide enough the sky can be easily seen above it.”

“What does it mean?”

“I am not sure.” His voice was quiet and tense.