The hunter has done his best to choose targets that walked alone, but Archibald's word is God's in this herd, and so now he has to change his tactic.
Isn't it better to have someone with a companion, after all? He tries to reason, and finds that if he is able to separate himself from his emotions that it's quite an easy thing to do. Another mouth to feed, maybe, but a predator's mouth that kills other creatures that might gnaw on the greenery meant for the herd. Another set of teeth that can snap on an enemy's neck. Another body that can strike another, another force that can cripple. Another one on their side, maybe.
Maybe. And still, the hunter tells himself it all makes sense.
He comes cloaked and in the night, approaching from behind and in Anaan's greying roan form. His great grandfather walks with a heavy tread but the cloak silences every sound, hides him entirely from view. It is as if he is nothing until his magic darts out from the shadows like a snake, blinding the furry monster, and perhaps confusing the bond between him and his counterpart.
Knox is starting to forget how strong that tether is, between bonded and self. He doesn't know if the magic that harmed him in the past harmed her; all he knows is that now, he's left alone to bear all pain.
Impatient and unsure but good enough at following orders, Knox drops his cloak to reveal Anaan's body of burn scars and kindness. He walks briskly forth, ignoring the companion entirely and brushing his side against the strange unicorn's. His voice is a whisper, the touch of his body the only guide.
"Follow me," he murmurs, angling his ancestor's face up to catch the ear of the behemoth. Perhaps this is one of his most risky captures, and yet... he has succeeded. He can take enough pride in that.
And then they are off, through brambles that snag the silken mane of the protector and fruitlessly try to cut the scarred flesh on his legs and chest that burns have left black and impenetrable.
--
When they arrive at the Hidden Falls, dawn is peeking through the trees and sending a shimmer through the mist that rises from the falls. Knox is not of a mind to consider the scene beautiful, but it is. Objectively, undeniably, it is beautiful.
He pulls his magic from the eyes of the captive and moves to stand before him, Anaan's silvery coat shining in cold patches with the rise of the day.
"Do not be afraid, I am not going to hurt you," the hunter speaks in a kinder voice, an older one.
"My name is Anaan, and this is the Hidden Falls."
And so, once again, it begins.
—
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
