When Anar’dea regrouped in the treetops, it was with lingering excitement from the hunt, though she wondered if it had been worth the effort.

You can’t win ‘em all.

She shrugged, smiling. She felt more lively than she had in awhile; sometimes you had to let loose a little and fool around, after all. It reminded her of running through the forest with her brothers, sister, and parents. They had escaped the city before it had fallen and life had been good, since they still had each other.

In her memories, she could hear the sound of a pot bubbling over a fire and the stories her mother and brother would talk about. She leaned back against the tree, almost able to feel the warmth of that fire. Her memory was disrupted by the phantom sounds of hooves upon the ground and that warmth turned to ice. She heard the screaming and saw her father’s trampled body and the hollow look in her sister’s eyes as they fled the centaur rangers. She knew that none of them had made it out except for her; even her sister hadn’t really made it out.

Where did she die? When?

Anar’dea slammed the back of her head against the tree, her brain burning with the stinging of the impact and stopping the tears before they could begin. She noticed that she held her sister’s small hand mirror, but couldn’t remember ever pulling it from her bag. Anar’dea put the mirror away and took a deep breath before standing and putting on a small smile, which actually did help her feel better, in a way.

The sound of a horn call reverberated through the forest, calling all centaur home. She ascended higher into the canopy and began hunting for a lone centaur before they all returned to camp, where they’d be all but untouchable. As luck would have it, one could be heard nearby and it sounded as though it was heading in a straight line toward her.

Lucky me.

Anar’dea looked around for anything she could use against the centaur. The other tools she had needed time to set up and she wasn’t going to give this one a chance to escape. She snapped a branch from the tree she stood on and prepared to strike with her makeshift club. The centaur began to pass under her and she pounced, striking her prey on its head and knocking it out cold.

That’s better.

---

Taurus woke to stabbing pain in his head and his eyes burned with what light shone through his closed eyelids. His brain throbbed with each pulse and he struggled to open his eyes.

What happened?

It felt like he’d hit a tree. He tried to stand, but found he was dizzy and that his arms and legs felt strange. He tried to shake his head to clear himself up but nausea immediately made him regret the action. Taurus remained still for a moment as his vision came back into focus and the nausea dissipated. He looked up to see if it was evening, but saw earth instead.Taurus blinked a few times before realizing he was staring at the ground. He looked the other way to try and make sense of his situation, but saw his arms and legs bound together by ropes, with the night sky as a backdrop.

He recalled hearing his the horn of his clan and immediately sprinting home to try and give aid, whatever emergency was happening. He rounded a tree before hearing a snapping sound and a muddled image of a figure dropping down on him. He must have been attacked and apparently knocked out and tied up.

Taurus struggled to keep from panicking, but with the realization of his situation it was nearly impossible to remain calm. He took in the area around him and noticed there was a campfire, animal carcasses hanging from trees, and a lone figure who now approached Taurus. He couldn’t help but look between the flayed and bloodless carcasses and the figure who came toward him.

With the light at its back, it was difficult to make out any features of the person in front of him, but he figured it was safe to assume it was an elf when he noticed the telltale ears and the slenderness of it’s form. He struggled to pick out any details for a moment before his eyes were drawn to a sleek blade the figure held in its hand. The elf came closer before speaking.

“You’re awake.”

Taurus nodded, but remained silent.

“You want to live?”

Taurus nodded again as his throat felt too tight to speak.

“How many in your clan?”

Taurus’ breath caught in his throat and he considered whether or not to tell him, lingering in limbo for a few moments before the elf leaned in uncomfortably close.

“I’ll kill them if I can’t avoid them.”

“You aren’t going to hunt them?” Taurus searched the elf’s face for any clues while struggling not to flinch away.

“I don’t need to hunt any more.” He gestured to the carcasses and Taurus counted eight in total, and recognized most were boars but the last one looked like a strange lizard. He stared at it until he recognized the dangerous river predator, a Gobmaw, the centaur avoided whenever possible.

And he just killed it like it was a wild boar?

Taurus choked down his shock, and his desire to be literally anywhere else, before speaking again.

“How do I know you are telling the truth?” Once more he was studying the elf’s face, trying to determine if it was lying. The elf was unreadable, and after only a beat he responded plainly.

“You’re still alive.”

After what felt like a minute, Taurus realized the elf was not going to say anything else to convince him. Taurus decided there wouldn’t be much harm in telling him at this point.

“There are a couple hundred of us.”

“How many warriors?”

Taurus clenched his jaw for a moment: this information was actually important and could put others in danger. He wondered if he should inflate the number to make it seem more intimidating before his eyes wandered back to the ruined carcass of the Gobmaw.

Would he just see a big number as a challenge?

Taurus looked back at the elf and realized that the elf was scrutinizing him, likely the same way Taurus had searched the elf for lies before. Sighing, he decided being truthful was for the best.

“Probably not more than fifty.” Taurus didn’t know an exact number, but it sounded about right. The elf considered the information only briefly.

“We’re south. If I head west or east, which one gets me out of your clan’s territory faster?”

“West. The forest gets too thick.” Taurus didn’t miss a beat this time, any opportunity to steer them away from the clan was one he didn’t need to think about.

“Good.” The elf stood up and began to walk away, “I’ll release you in the morning.”

Taurus was at a loss and was somehow disappointed that the elf didn’t have anything else to say to him. He searched the area before realizing that he was starting to feel a bit faint from all the hanging around.

---

Though they spoke softly, Thu’lain noticed Raj’ken, Trat’catha, and Tin’lo sharing space by the fire and chatting a few dozen feet away from the centaur and the carcasses.

“They on watch?” He asked, noting the absence of Anar’dea and Tu’lar.

“Yeah. What’s happening with the horseman?” Raj’ken lounged back, relaxing while weaving a small bag out of plant fibers.

“They’ve a few hundred total. Probably around fifty warriors. We’re going to head west.”

“Okay, but what about the horseman?” Raj’ken repeated.

“He leaves after we rest.” Thu’lain shrugged, not offering any further details.

“Isn’t that a little risky? I mean, I don’t particularly want to kill him, but couldn’t they follow us based on what he knows?” Raj’ken put her project down.

“Sometimes killing something is too easy of a solution, don’t you think?” Trat’catha spoke to Raj’ken, but glanced to see if Thu’lain had reacted: he hadn’t.

“It’s fine with me, I was just curious.” She shrugged.

“The worst thing that could even happen would be a hunting party. That was dangerous about a thousand years ago. But now. . . not so much.” Tin’lo was chewing on a piece of jerky from his pouch despite there being a hunk of meat cooking over the fire.

“By the way Thu’lain, really impressed with the blood-letting. I can’t get a kill dry within four hours and you just did - what? - eight or nine carcasses in two hours?” Trat’catha spoke up,

taking a moment to slice a piece of meat off the hunk and carefully biting into the hot food.

“Ten, actually.”

“Right, the lizard.” Trat’catha nodded as he covered his mouth; it was rude to speak with your mouth full, after all.

“What are we going to do with the rest of the meat?” Raj’ken reached out and took the piece of meat Tin’lo handed her, letting it cool by hanging it from a knife.

“Don’t even worry about it. Tu and I will cook and salt as much as we can and split it into your packs tonight.” Tin’lo nodded as he ate some of the cooked meat, putting his jerky away for later.

For the next while, they ate in silence. Soon, Thu’lain and Trat’catha would swap with Anar’dea and Tu’lar so they could also rest and eat. Elves only needed a few hours of rest to recover and during this time they could simply sit in place or do a very repetitive task like weaving until they recovered their stamina.

On his way out, Thu’lain untied the unconscious centaur and let him down before any permanent brain damage could occur. He would wake up in a few hours and make his way back to the clan, but by that time they would be long gone.

End Chapter 4