Project Dream Preview, Chapter 7

“……Alo–?”

“Of your vow must I ceaselessly remind?”

“Technically…for the day, I swore I’d leave you be, which,” Hinto blew between his palms, “has p—passed.” 

“Technically, you lost my arrows,” to the tracks, his strained eyes fixed, “‘til they’re retrieved, you’ve no right to speak.”

“They will be, however, t’is frigid…and late, in boredom must we also trek…?…Ah, at least the skies’ve cleared: the stars’re brilliant…do you recognize any constellations?”

“No, I ‘tend here, to this world, not any above…as should you…”

“…Why not both–?”

“Leave me be.”

“Ah…so in boredom it is…”

“…Ugh…for me, constellations spell no favorable fate, not for this life…”

“Ah, you fear the unforeseen, but, the Pylan’s way, who may truly know it?”

His brow rose; Alo overlooked his shoulder, “the Pylan…?”

“You’re unaware?…I’m not surprised, most Westerners are or simplify it to Natural Order…for the best, I’d imagine…”

“…You’re…spiritual? I’d not’ve guessed,” Alo halted, “wh-…why’re you laughing?”

“Ah, pardon, but I’m far from spiritual: regardless of names, t’is all foolish myth in practice to me.”

“The Pylan is a fable?”

“…I suppose…”

“…Well?”

“‘Well’…what?” 

“…Tell me of it,” agrin, Hinto snickered, “ugh, damn you! I no longer care!” 

“Forgive me, though moments ago you wished for silence–”

“You wanted conversation.”

“W—wait, wait, I’ll share—I’ll share! T’is time we build camp, anyhow—”

“Retire if you please, I’ve game to catch.”

“But, night has settled; what of your vision?”

“My sight’ll fare better than yours…”

“We’re called Dark Ursine for sound reason; if you’ll not relent, I’ll lead, step aside—”

“No.” Alo swatted the hand from his chest, “t’is my hunt or have you forgotten?”

“As if I could…though, t’isn't safe; we’ll continue come morn, when all’s bright, then, we’ll find our—”

“My…” 

“The deer,” ayawn, Hinto knelt to shift the snow, “you seem fatigued too–”

“Presume not,” though Alo caught the contagious yawn.

“Ah, my mistake…the ledges seem shallower here,” he ventured t’ward the brush, “I’ll build a fire.”

“Tch, do as you please…”

“……How callow, oh lowly runt…” it hissed within, “how quickly fond again–”

“I’m not,” he finally sat, “I’m merely…intrigued—”

“How foolish…shall, what has all others, too befall him…? Yet a further tainted oath?”

“T’isn’t my fault: I summoned him not–”

“All is as you deem–”

“Spare me,” his temples were nursed, “for once…”

“…Akin…to them—?”

“Alo–?” 

He yipped, “oh,” Hinto cautiously neared, “how long were you…?”

“Is…all right?”

“O-of course.”

“…Sincerely–?”

“Sincerely.” 

Warily, Hinto laid the tinder and twigs ‘fore he reached into his coat pocket, “ah, t’was strange,” a pale stone was produced, though was quickly replaced with flint, “not a bird, yet countless empty roosts; did they all migrate?”

“Some do,” steel struck the stone, “though many often remain…”

“Ah,” embers fed the pile ‘til a modest flame was born, “…sweet refuge…”

“…You’ve heat, now tell.”

“Of the Pylan?” Hinto warmed, “first, will you humor me?”

“Ugh, what now?”

“…Alo,” his throat cleared, “I think we’re friends—”

“Friends?” he snorted, “despite your deeds? You invaded my lodge, you stole my room, you stormed my hunt, you purged my quiver, yet claim comradery as if by decree?”

“Forgive me, but…I do—”

“Enough, I wish to hear of that story—”

“You and I,” his finger flicked, “we are akin.”

“Pardon? We only recently met, how could you possibly tell?”

“I’m unsure…yet…it feels correct, nor have you explicitly denied it.”

“Tch, how foolish; if desperate, befriend a different Keendan: the others see you as you are, as they do me…”

“You mean as a runt, who shouldn’t have lived past birth? Ludicrous, you’ve proven your merit: no, unlike them, I’ll not blindly persecute.”

“Fruitless flattery.”

“Surely, you’re more than they claim.”

“…They received…” it whispered within, “they were undone…”

“I,” Alo shuddered, “I shouldn’t say…”

“Then…if not of who you are, who do you long to be?”

“As one I never can…” he shook of the thought, “I’d rather not speak of it,” his eyes averted, “focus on the hunt: the buck…you think it lives?

“Definitely,” Hinto lifted his hood, then shifted to a lax position, “t’was formidable.”

“T’won’t sate Keenda alone…”

“Have faith, we’ll claim that one, then check the traps again; perhaps we’ll find more than expected.”

“So you are spiritual.”

“No, I’m optimistic,” Hinto peered through the shade: solely the stars and the hearth defied it, “we should sleep…”

“You’ll tell of the Pylan another time?”

“Certainly” they both reclined, facing away from the other, “sleep well,” his ears twitched.

“From this slumber…I wish not wake…”

~

“Little one, remember…breathe…” the cub drew his bow, “steady your heart,” they aimed at the burlap sack, “focus, still your mind–”

However, the reed prematurely flew, “…oh, sorry…another miss…”  

“Be not discouraged, little one, for with each try you improve. Lend me your shirt.”

“My shirt…why?”

“I’ve a lesson for you……good…now,do feel it, little one, the wind?”

“T-t’is cold…”

“Only ‘til your true pelt grows, for now, become accustomed and allow it to hone your senses: t’will be your ally if heeded, carrying shots, the scent of game, but if ignored, t’will be your greatest foe,” slightly, against the gusts, he re-stationed cub’s stance, “listen…be led…understand?”

“I  think so…?”

“Patience, you will in time…. Re-nock, try once more…”

~