"Is'at so?" Sverre mused, glancing momentarily in the direction the young hunter woman had stormed off. Vaguely wondering how the brash and angry woman had managed to get such a reduced bill on her lodging, Sverre put the thought aside for later as the serving girl continued to speak. My was she ever helpful! Free drinks, pretty to look at, and willing to talk. A slight smile met her words, the demon inwardly basking in her assesment of him. She appreciated him chasing off a pig of a man.

The look faltered to a discontented sigh, Sverre shrugging helplessly in response to the serving maid's inquiry. "I wish I knew. I first saw her about three days ago, and she knew my name and acted odd around me. I was simply trying to figure out how she knows me, but so far she hasn't done much else aside from accuse me of absurd things." the male all but lamented, only to sip from his mug.

Letting out a refreshed and contented sigh, Sverre smiled once more at the serving girl. "Thank you love. Been mighty kind indeed. Next time she comes back, would you mind giving her a nice warm meal on me?" Sverre asked, placing several gold coins into her hand and giving her a cheerful grin. "And keep the extra, treat yourself to somethin nice."

Returning to his ale, Sverre glanced over at the rowdy patrons, arching a brow as he appraised them in his mind. Soon his thoughts drifted to the hunteress, attempting to piece together what limited information and observations he had on her. 'I think I should be keeping an eye out for her....She's definitely hiding somethin.' he thought.

If there was one thing Eilin knew it was that sitting back complacently got people killed. The village had its guards, sure, but they were not so much keeping a look-out as they were simply cooling their heels near the gates. Years of seeing no danger coming for the village had left them without any real respect for their own posts. A fact that irked Eilin more than she would have liked to admit.

She was able to sneak past them quite easily, her steps light and silent until she had made it past the gate and to the trees beyond. The snowfall had started again. Slow and peaceful, it was a blanket of calm and comfort for the others. For Eilin it was a chance to venture out with the knowledge that her footsteps would be wiped clean behind her.

Slowly and carefully, she made her way into the night. How long she was out there for, she could not tell. The moon was high in the sky when she finally re-emerged from the forest, feeling somewhat frustrated. To her disappointment, she had not been able to locate any traces of the demon pack. Only a few select clues to show that they were near-by.

Sneaking back past the guards was easier as they by now seemed to have brought out a game of cards to play by torchlight. Eilin was almost tempted to raise form of an alarm to get them back on their feet. Anything to remind them that the village could be in very real danger. She knew, however, that she was nothing but a guest here and could be run out if the villagers decided that she was stepping on toes.

So instead, she made her way back to the inn, slipping through the door to see an oddly empty bar space. Only a lone figure remained downstairs. The barmaid, busy wiping down the last of the tables for the night. Eilin only cast her a fleeting glance and proceeded further inside toward the stairs. She did not wish to stick around for a talk.

Silently, Eilin made her way upstairs to the room that was designated to the key she had been given earlier. She made quick work of unlocking the door and stepping inside. There, she set down her spear and busied herself with removing her coat, furs, and a variety of weapons that were strapped to her body. She only kept one of her daggers with her, slipping it under the pillow in case she would need it in the middle of the night. She washed her face free of any remaining paint and sat down on the bed, softly sighing to herself.

How long she sat there like that, she wasn't certain. At one point her gaze was fixed on the window and the falling snow outside. It all looked so peaceful yet it always reminded her of the ash that she saw falling from the sky the day after her village had burned to the ground. Eventually, the weariness got to her and she lay back, closing her eyes to get some rest.

Not yet ready to turn in, Sverre debated tracking down the huntress or leaving her be for now. Opting for the latter, he waved a brief farewell to the barmaid, assuring her he'd be back before it got too late lest he disturb her or the innkeeper. The air was cool around him, the demon glancing up as snow began to fall anew. The town was slowly but surely quieting down, people turning in, finishing dinners. Children were undoubtedly being tucked in after a good night story or whatever it was parents chose to impart on their spawn at day's end.

While the street wouldn't be too crowded and thus a safe enough place to observe his surroundings, Sverre instead picked the inn's rooftop as his post, sneaking up onto the building with ease. No one ever thought to look up, so even if he hadn't paid attention to be quiet and unseen, it was unlikely anyone would notice him before he could hide and make it to the top. After a moment of debate, the demon perched himself beside the chimney, hiding himself in it's shadow and casually using it's brick wall as a backrest.

The guards earned a roll of his eyes, the dark haired male noting their lax behavior as a result of complacency and a long spell of peace. They had their human troubles surely, but he doubted the guards had seen much more than an occasional bandit if that. Travelers on the road were at higher risk of danger than just a common village. It made sense why they were so at ease, but it was still stupid in his opinion. A guard should be guarding, being ready just in case something should happen. Keeping up appearances so would be criminals would think twice about causing trouble. Otherwise, what was the point of them?

Sverre smirked, a nagging little temptation to interrupt their peaceful evening with some disturbance more than just a little appealing to him. He would've done it, but after going through it in his mind, the man was sadly put off from the idea once he considered the consequences. Sure, it would be undoubtedly satisfying and teach the bufoons a lesson, but he would pay for it. He didn't particularly want to be kicked out of the village, and while he cold sneak in- that would be too much trouble. Besides, no matter how capable and accepting he was of living outside and left to his own devices, Sverre was a sucker for a nice bed. He indulged in homey comforts and shelter whenever he had the opportunity, and the satisfaction wasn't worth a loss of a dry, warm place to sleep. A shame humans were so flighty.

While Sverre could tell there were definitely demons not far from the village, they were of little concern to him now, and he was satisfied that they were still far enough away that he could wait before scoping them out. Besides, sleep seemed like a pleasant enough of an idea by now.

Before he could make his way down from the roof, Sverre caught sight of none other than the huntress from before, coming back to the inn at last. A unconscious smirk spread across his lips as he remained perfectly still, watching her approach and then disappear from his sight as she went inside. Good girl, she was back where he could keep an eye on her. He wanted answers, and he wasn't about to let her leave the village without giving him some.

Sverre waited a few more minutes in absolute silence before descending back down from his perch, into a tree, and then back to the ground. Now he deemed it time to get some rest before huntress-stalking in the morning.

Walking in to see the barmaid removing her apron for the night, the demon smiled at her again, waving a hand in a casual greeting before heading up the stairs to the room indicated for him. With the turn of a key, he was inside his cozy little cave he had had the good fortune of staying in for the past four days. Kicking off his boots and shedding his coat, and belt, he flopped back onto the bed with a contented sigh, propping his sword against the bedstand before finally allowing himself sleep.

Sleep did not come easily that night. Eilin awoke a mere two hours into her dream cycle with a start. Her fingers already gripping the hilt of the dagger, she shot up in bed, eyes wide in a fading panic. Her heart was racing, the distant screams of the past ringing in her ears. They were imprinted on her mind, even now. Sometimes she could still smell the fires burning.

Yet there were no fires around her now. Only a silent darkness pressed into the room and a glance out of the window showed that the moon was obscured by a heavy cloud cover. Dragging fingers wearily through her hair, Eilin sank back down into the comfort of the covers. She still had hope for a few hours of reprieve, yet it did not come. For the rest of the night she tossed and turned yet could not regain the sweet embrace of slumber. Eventually, she gave in.



Darkness still prevailed outside as Eilin sat down in front of a small mirror. She had lit a few candles, bathing the room in a flickering warm glow. In the dim light, she studied her reflection, lost in her own thoughts. She had staked her entire life on finding the pack of demons who were responsible for burning her village and killing everyone around her, only to somehow stumble into answers that she had not expected. How could Sverre have been part of the cause? Had they all really been so disillusioned with him?

Idly, Eilin's gaze dropped down to her hands and a small round container she was holding. It was made of dark wood and when she removed the top she found herself looking at a blue paste. Her mother had taught her how to make it when she was young. The white and blue mask colors were the signature of her people. The colors she could not wear now with Sverre around. Not unless she was willing to trully show him who was. At the present moment, she did not care enough to reveal her identity.

With a sigh, the young woman shut the container and set it aside on the table before turning away from her own reflection.



By the time the sun rose on a new, cloudless, day, Eilin was gone from the inn. Another visit past the gates had given her no indication that a threat was imminent, yet she knew quite well that it could only be a matter of time. The pack would get hungry and restless eventually and if there is one thing she saw it was that they were not dutifully passing by. She found no tracks of them leaving the forested area.

Slowly, the young woman made her way back down the main street. The shops were just beginning to open and the village was only just beginning to wake up. For the inhabitants, it was a simple and quiet enough existence that would last forever. Eilin simply hoped that this would hold true.

She stepped back in the inn just in time to hear the barmaid giving another guest a good morning greeting. There was already a man seated at the bar and only two other guests settling near the windows. Eilin only glanced around briefly before ignoring them all and proceeding to a table near the fireplace where the last of the embers had gone out hours ago in the night. She needed to think. More importantly, she needed to find someone who was trustworthy enough in the village to warn them of a possibility of an attack. Perhaps the commander of the guards would be a good start.

It was the approaching barmaid that caught Eilin's attention a few minutes later. She was carrying a plate of food and a mug that she set down before her with a smile. “Here you are, a nice meal for your morning,” she said as Eilin arched a brow slightly in confusion.

“I did not order food yet,” the young huntress noted. Yet the barmaid continued to smile gently.

“The gentleman from last night has generously paid for it,” she replied.

Eilin's look of confusion dissolved into something akin surprise before being wiped clear by her impassive mask. She faltered for a moment, unsure of how to respond, before she finally gave a slight nod of her head.

“Thank you,” she spoke briefly.

“Let me know if I can do anything else for you,” the smiling barmaid offered before turning and retreating back to her post. Eilin was left, looking after her in mild confusion. Just what was Sverre really trying to prove? Now she remembered, however. It was this very same personality in him that had thrown them all off-guard. Her entire family had grown to trust him this very same way.

Normally, she would have pushed the meal aside, yet she had not eaten the previous night and the hunger was setting in. After mulling over her options, Eilin picked up the fork, deciding that he owed her a meal either way. It still did not change a thing between them. For now, however, she dug in, finding that the morning meal was fresh and well-made.

At first, Sverre's sleep was pleasant and peaceful, his mind easily slipping into unconsciousness as his body lay in comfort.

Screams and cries of terror echoed around him, intermingled with the crackling of fire and the acrid smell of smoke and burning. Growls and sounds of feeding followed the screams, only to eventually eliminate the terror filled voices entirely. The scent of blood permeated his nose as he ran, only one place in the village of any importance now.

'Please let me not be too late!' he thought in a panic, his voice coming out in a strangled cry as he approached the battered house. The smell of blood was thick in the air even here, as well as the scent of demons. With a sinking in his gut, Sverre slammed open the newly broken door, freezing at the sight within.

Two demons had occupied the space, and blood soaked the floor and their claws and mouths. Eilin's mother's lips were parted in a scream as she was violated by one of the demons, her body being used even as the other bit into the flesh of her shoulder with apparent relish. The rest of the family had already been reduced to corpses, bodies shredded and mauled almost beyond recognition. Eilin was no where to be seen.

Even as the light faded from her eyes and her body went slack, Sverre snarled at the two vile creatures before him. "Get away from her you cretins! We agreed to leave this area alone!"

"What? Mad cause we came to eat your precious, pathetic 'family'? You don't get to make the rules, and besides, why should you get to have all the fun?" sneered the one with his claws dug into the woman's now lifeless hips.

Sverre's eyes glowed in rage, reaching for his sword. "Bastard! We all agreed on-"

"You have no right to decide Sverre. We made no blood pact, so the rules can change. Besides, who the hell would actually listen to a mixed breed?" retorted the second, swallowing a chunk of flesh purposely slow for his outraged audience.

"Bastards....I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

~ ~ ~ ~

Sverre awoke with a start, panting as an ice cold sweat drenched his face and neck. A dream...it was a dream. And yet, it wasn't. It had been months since his last nightmare, and he didn't know why they were suddenly back.

With a frustrated growl, the male punched his pillow and hurled it with all his might across the room in anger. No, he did know why the memories came back. That woman! Try as he might, he could not shake her visage out of his head. No matter how he looked at her, she resembled Eilin in every way, and the sorrow and rage of that night came flooding back. He had sealed off that part of his mind, tried to let it be quiet and keep it stored away. So much for that!

Flopping backwards onto the pillows again, Sverre glared daggers at the ceiling, cursing his luck and growing more bitter by the minute. Damn woman making him remember! He didn't even try to go back to sleep, knowing rest would not come. Besides, it wasn't that far from morning...

--------

Somehow the demon had managed to calm down in the past few hours, ready to go downstairs and face the world once more. Despite his painful memory and the exhausting swarm of negative emotions it brought, it was not something that would take away from being alert and awake. Making sure his sword was secure on his back and his hair was tidy, the ebony haired man made his way down for some breakfast.


Upon reaching the first floor of the inn, Sverre smiled and greeted the pretty young serving lady from before, looking forward to her serving him again today. Scanning the dining room for a place to sit, he caught sight of none other than the hunter woman. The woman who knew his name. The woman who threatened him and tried to kill him. The woman whos' dinner he had accidentally eaten the night prior. He noted with satisfaction that she had been provided for with the money he left the serving maid in apology. His smile vanished however as he noted with growing vexation her uncanny resemblance to Eilin.

In spite of the memories her appearance brought up, Sverre headed her direction, intent on learning why she knew who he was, regardless of her willingness to talk or not. Without a single word to ask her permission or announce his intention, Sverre sat himself opposite the woman.

"So, ready to tell me why the hell you know my name?" he asked, arms folded over his chest as he prepared some money to pay the serving lady for his own meal.

Eilin ate in silence, gazing out toward the dusty window of the inn. There was a fresh sprinkling of snow slowly coming down outside. Any further trips out of the forest would be useless in this weather. Even if the pack was near-by, Eilin knew that they would be difficult to track and this fact bothered her more than she would have liked to admit.

She was about half-way done with her plate when the sound of approaching footsteps slowly eased her out of her thoughts. Eilin didn't have to wonder for long who it was, however. The moment she tore her gaze away from the window, turning her head to look around, Eilin found herself seated across from none other than Sverre. His appearance didn't so much as surprise her, now that she knew his whereabouts. Still, after all of the years that had passed, she had marvel at how straight-forward he was. Just like in the old days. Some things did not change.

The huntress's gaze hardened slightly at the question the demon posed. Did he really think she would tell him anything?

“Ready to tell me what your mission is here?” she countered his question, watching him with slightly narrowed eyes. Surprisingly, there was no malice in her gaze that morning. She had finally managed to gain control of her emotions that had escaped her when she first learned the truth about Sverre. She appeared much calmer, almost conversational. Yet still distant and somewhat curt.

“You traveled out of your way to reach this village after our first meeting,” she continued after a moment, stabbing at one of the small potatoes on her plate with a fork. She took a bite of it before turning her attention back to Sverre. “Why?” she asked.

The woman's curt, accusatory tone earned a scowl from the demon, his eye twitching slightly in agitation. Still she avoided his questions! This Eilin look-alike was starting to get on his nerves! Well, two could play at that game...

About to retort with just another question, he stopped himself before any sound made it past his lips, thinking over his options. Maybe if he actually answered her, she'd finally give him some answers as well. Somehow he doubted it, but it was worth a shot. After all, not like he couldn't track her down easily should she try to avoid him.

"My current mission is to get me a nice hot breakfast." he stated as though it were obvious, smiling as he caught the eye of the barmaid he had helped and now specifically went to for his drinks. "Ello again love, thanks a bunch for getting the missus here a meal for me to make up for my accidentally taking hers last night. Would you be kind enough to bring me something nice and warm? Whatever you think is best, I'm sure you know what the chef's best morning dish is. Keep the extra- for your trouble and for being so darn helpful mi'lady." he said with a charming smile, offering her a handful of coins.

Satisfied with his transaction, Sverre's smile faded and left with an almost exasperated sigh. "Yeah, this was the nearest village. I wasn't about to travel all the way through the day and the damn night as well. I happen to like having a roof over my head thanks." he countered her second question, tempted to put his feet on the table. "Now, I've answered your questions, surely it ain't gonna kill you to tell me how in the hell you know my name." Sverre's eyes locked on hers, hard and determined. He'd get answers from her yet!

Eilin didn't reply right away. Truth be told, Sverre's sweet-talking demonstration with the barmaid left her cringing slightly. His charming act was growing stale on her. Oh, she remembered it from when she was a child. She used to have many cherished memories of him and her family. Memories that have very suddenly and severely been torn to shreds with the revelation of what he really was.

It was no wonder that the woman suddenly found that she had no more appetite. Leaving a few potato halves and a piece of bread uneaten, she set her fork down before gingerly moving the plate away from her. Sverre still insisted on talking to her as if she was clueless about his intentions.

"Is that why you chose to burn said roof to the ground?" she thought angrily. The words almost left her mouth. Almost... One outburst out of her and he probably wouldn't have to wonder anymore about how she knew his name. For once, though, she managed to hold herself back, instead letting out a quiet, steadying breath. It took all of her willpower to lift her gaze to look at him again when he went on to question her again. His gaze was hard and demanding. If she was honest, she had never seen him look at her this way before and it almost threw her off her guard. She had to force herself to not blink or look away.

"You must remain strong" she reminded herself. It was how she had survived all of this time, after all. She could not falter now. Not when she was so close to her family's killers.

"You've answered nothing," she stated plainly after a moment, keeping her tone of voice even and quiet. Slowly, she leaned forward in her seat, crossing her arms in front of her on the table, and keeping his gaze locked with hers. "You play the others in the village as easily as a lute... Sverre..." She pronounced his name clearly, knowing it would unnerve him to hear it come from her again. "But know that I am immune to your games and disguises. You can fool others, but I see right through you. I know what you are. And I would rather watch the world burn before I would willingly give you want you want."

With that, she sat back again. There was certainly hatered in her voice. But there was something else, hidden deep down behind her gaze. A spark of betrayal. Of year of hurt and pain. Before her façade could crumble, though, a distraction arrived in the form of the barmaid. The young woman sat Sverre's breakfast down on the table and Eilin took the moment to break the stare, looking away. She suddenly wondered if she had said too much. An entirely new feeling for her. One that she escaped from as quickly as she could as she swept up onto her feet and grabbed her spear from where it was leaning against the wall.

"Enjoy your food... Sverre..." she gave him one final verbal jab before leaving him to his breakfast. If he wasn't going to admit to where his pack was camped out, she would go and find them herself. First things first, though... She needed to alert the guards to a possible danger on the village border. That and... clear her head.

The unrestrained hatred and mistrust in the woman's eyes was really beginning to irk him. Sverre felt his eye twitch slightly as the infuriating female continued to dodge his questions, simply throwing cold accusations his way. Even more insulting, this Eilin look-alike presumed to know all about him and his motivations. How dare she!

Unable to fully contain his irritation, Sverre jabbed into his food more vigorously than needed, glowering at the huntress across from him. As she went on to claim he was doing little more than manipulating the people for some absurd personal gain, his gaze hardened in annoyance. What he was? What on earth was this woman's problem? What had he ever done to her? Her smug and callous attitude added on with her appearance slowly began to make his well controlled temper awaken, forcing him to exhibit considerable restraint to maintain some civility.

"I'm not the one accusing others of malicious intentions and sly games based on my own foolish preconceived notions." he all but spat, spearing a piece of meat rather viciously before bringing it to his lips. 'Calm down...it's not worth it to cause a scene...I'll find out some other way.' he thought, fighting to smother his rising anger. It certainly didn't help that his dream was still fresh in his mind. He hated the woman before him for bringing up such painful memories.

Even a fool would be able to pick up on how she drew out his name- purposely trying to irritate him with this knowledge she had no reason to know. It was hard to restrain a growl, but he managed to contain it before it could escape his throat. The unfinished plate was abandoned as the huntress stood, swiftly gathering her weapon and making a hasty retreat from him and the inn. A part of him was tempted to follow, to demand she answer him lest he fight her for it. He wanted to goad her, ask if she was running away from him.

Sverre resisted the urge, eyes following the woman until she was gone from sight before resuming his meal, trying to calm his grated nerves before attempting to track and investigate the vexing Eilin look-alike. His lack of answers and his frustration managed to sour his mood, making his otherwise delicious breakfast far less enjoyable than it should be. Damn her!

He smiled pleasantly whenever the barmaid passed by his table, but otherwise kept to himself for the morning. Once he felt he had calmed himself enough and had his fill, Sverre finished his drink with a final swig before leaving, giving a casual wave to the barmaid as he walked out the door. "The food was excellent, thank you kindly for another fine meal."

With this, he headed towards the swordsmith, deciding his sword needed a professional touch-up. Using his own whetstone was fine and good, but every so often he liked to sharpen and polish his weapon with the expert's tools.

The damp drop rolled down her cheek unexpectedly, her view of the trees around her suddenly blurring. For a brief moment she looked up, almost expecting to see rain coming down from the clouds before she remembered that it was the middle of winter and the steady snowfall around her.

This wasn't rain. This was tears that, once started, came on hard and fast.

Eilin had made it out of the village unseen by the guards once more, intent on tracking down any demon within the radius of the village. For what, though? Any idiot knew that in weather such as this any tracks left would be covered over in an hour at best. Perhaps deep down she knew that she needed this time away even while she kept her composure the last two days. That vulnerability she was loathe to show anyone had been bursting to be acknowledged since she first laid eyes on Sverre in that burned village. It had only been a matter of time.

Now, Eilin found herself sliding down to sit with her back against an evergreen, her knees drawn up. As much as she hated to admit it, she had never been able to lock the past away. Not until she could avenge her village. Her parents, her friends, all those she grew up with. And that past had come back to haunt her, quite literally. Every time she looked at Sverre and heard him speak, another part of her memory was freshly unlocked, as if a puzzle box brought to life by the right push of a button, and he knew exactly how to solve the riddles.

So even though she hated the weakness, Eilin allowed it for the moment. Here, out in the middle of a forest where the only thing that could possibly cross her was an animal. Her face buried in her knees, she hid from the world, her dark curls falling around her in a protective sheet and her shoulders shaking every once in a while in the still silence.

How long she sat there, she wasn't sure. In fact, she was certain that there were moments when she forgot to listen to her surroundings. Yet every time she started, realizing her slip-ups, all was quiet around her. Eventually the tears dried and she sat with her head resting against the tree, staring up at the canopy of the evergreens as the sun reached the noon point in the sky and began its descent into the second half of the day.

Later that afternoon would find her wandering deeper into the forest. A part of her was still very much intent on the mission she had set for herself that morning yet another part of her was weary and tired from the last two days. Eventually, she knew she had to give it up. If her mind was not in the right place, any encounter with a demon could be deadly for her. She could not hope to fight to her best ability in this half-distracted state. And she was right on that account, as it turned out.

Had she been more attentive, she would have picked up a very faint trail of prints leading up to a tree where it vanished. Heard the slightly louder rustling above her that could not be explained away by the wind. By the time she heard the strain of the bow being drawn back and the whistle of the arrow through the air, it was too late. The impact to her shoulder sent her sprawling forward onto the snowy ground. She barely registered the pain or the fact that her spear slipped out of her grasp as her hand suddenly refused to listen to her wishes. All she knew was that if she did not get up, she would be dead within a few seconds.

It had taken some negotiating and some tugging on the blacksmith's emotions, but Sverre finally managed to get his sword properly sharpened for just over half the usual price. He didn't like to spend large sums if he could help it, never knowing for sure what his options were and what he'd need at each settlement. He spent his wait time milling about the nearby shops, mostly just browsing selections with mild, passing interest.

To his relief, the wait was not a long one, and in just over fifteen minutes the demon had his greatsword back in his hands. Thanking the blacksmith with a hearty shake of the hand and the promised payment, the man was off once more.

Hoisting his greatsword over his shoulder, Sverre made his way towards the inn, mind still interrupted with last night's terrible dream and that vexing Eilin doppelganger who he kept running into. The woman who kept refusing to talk to him, explain how in the bloody hells she knew his name, and insisted on making outrageous assumptions about him. Dammit all, now his mood was turning sour again!





Despite a choice ale, some sword practice, and a brief chat with the barmaid at the inn, Sverre's mood had only gotten marginally better. And on top of all that, he hadn't seen the hunter lady return, even though it was at least an hour or two past midday. He still wanted answers, and maybe his persistence would win out in the end.

Walking through the village, the man kept an eye out for the Eilin look-alike, not having a particular destination in mind so much as a desire to put his mind at ease.
After about an hour of unsuccessful searching, he decided he may as well head back towards the inn when something caught his attention. Roughly twenty meters outside the gates lay the edges of a dense forest, the tops of the trees dusted with drapes of snowfall. He wouldn't have paid it much thought, but one of the low hanging branches of the nearest section of trees seemed to have snagged a strand of something.
Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps sheer circumstance. But a small tear of fabric had snagged itself onto the branch he'd noticed in question. The male avoided the overly complacent guards with embarassing ease, a slight nagging in his mind prompting further investigation of the cloth. Picking it off of the branch, he brought it closer to his face for inspection when he recognized a newly familiar scent.

The huntress.

Aside from the cold air, the evergreens, and a rabbit hiding in a burrow two feet to his left, the scent of the human he'd been hoping to find was present at this spot. Specifically, on what was undoubtedly a torn shred of her clothing. Perhaps from their fight just a few days prior? He somehow doubted she had gotten around to mending a nick in the fabric of one of her garments (something he should do for his own cloak once he returned to the inn, he noted). What on earth was the woman doing heading into the woods? Her tracks were probably long gone.

Her smell, however, had yet to vanish.

With a sigh, Sverre adjusted his hold on his greatsword before making his way into the forest, shaking his head in disbelief of the huntress. Out on her own at such a late hour of the afternoon? Sure, she was skilled from what he could tell, but it was all too easy to get lost by the late afternoon. If she wasn't on her way back, nightfall would approach sooner than she'd be able to make her way out. And with the snowfall covering her tracks, her path inside would be but a memory.

The snow began to fall with increasing frequency, any lingering traces of her disappearing rapidly as he continued his search, cursing under his breath. Stupid woman would freeze to death out here at this rate, winter clothes be damned. Her scent sometimes seemed to vanish, only for it to catch in the wind and goad him on. His biggest marker was a set of depressions in the snow under a tree, the snow beginning to cover and hide the sign of her presence. The difference in the patterns of snow here were discernible, but not for long. Sverre shook his head at the sight, berating the infuriating woman in his mind for wandering so deep into the forest. She couldn't be that much further, surely?

Sverre had half a mind to simply go back towards the village when he caught her scent again. Not too strong, but fresh. What was most concerning was a far more sinister smell. A demon.

Making his way swiftly towards the scents, the mixed breed caught sight of the huntress just as the hiss of an arrow met his ears. The woman fell forward, and for a second he thought she had been finished with a single shot. Thankfully, he realized she hadn't sustained a fatal wound, but it was evident she was going to be killed before she'd have a chance to recover or retaliate.

Greatsword at the ready, Sverre sprang out into the path of a second arrow, swiping it aside a mere two seconds before it could hit either him or its intended target.

"Pathetic, shooting to kill when your opponent is down. Can't even personally approach to kill your prey after you've caught it?" He sneered, glancing at the woman out of his periphery. He wasn't concerned with the possibility of her attacking. She was wounded and looked to be exhausted. Stupid girl had tried to hunt or fight in such a state? Maybe she had a death wish.

"Silence! I found her first you filthy mutt!" Hissed the demon scout, yellow eyes glaring at Sverre as a long, slimy tongue flicked out of its mouth. Unlike Sverre, the scout obviously couldn't maintain a human form for long, if at all. It was a large, hideous mess of tough, greyish skin, protruding horns, bulging wings, spiny tail, rows of jagged teeth in an overly wide maw, and dirty claws. All on a deceptively knobbly body.

Mutt again. Sverre rolled his eyes and glared in annoyance at the creature, thinking it almost not worth his time.

"Fight me for her then, if you got the balls!" He challenged, earning an insulted shriek in response. The scout lifted his bow, this time firing three arrows in a single shot.

It was pathetic, really. There was a clear difference in skill, coupled with arrogance and anger based movements from the scout. Sverre cut the arrows from the air, running towards his foe.

Another shriek met his advances, the creature's tail whipping around to club the dark haired man in the gut. Sverre held his arms out, letting out a grunt as the bulbous end of the spiny tail slammed into his forearm instead. That was gonna be an ugly bruise. Still, he pushed closer, climbing up to wrestle the damned thing out of the tree.

While the scout was fast, Sverre managed to grab an ankle, the skin as tough as a gators hide. He dragged the scout down as both tumbled from its perch, though his attack was met with several slashes and a headbutt. Thank heavens the horns didn't snag or hit him!

As the scout attempted to stab Sverre with a small dagger, the man rolled out of the way with seconds to spare before reaching for a blade of his own. He was only half aware of the unfamiliar spear as he lifted it by the middle and thrust up into the abdomen of the scout until the point exited the other side.

"See ya in hell you stupid shit" Sverre said, withdrawing the now blood covered spear as he looked over at the huntress. She was bleeding from the arrow pierced into her shoulder. It wasn't a large volume trickling out, but he wouldn't know how bad it would be until the arrow was extracted. Depends on what it hit. His greatsword had been dropped under the tree, having needed both hands to grapple with the scount to drag his sorry ass down.

Picking up his sword and the spear, Sverre quickly knelt beside the Eilin doppelganger, shaking his head at her even as he judged how to pick her up.

"Surely you can't always be this stupid, otherwise you'd have been dead years ago." He scoffed, carefully moving the woman so he could tie the arrow in place lest it move and pierce her more. For this, he simply cut the strap of the scout's quiver to use as a temporary binding after padding the area with a piece of his cloak (swiftly cut with his own knife, his previous musings of needing to repair it now rendered moot). "What in the hell possessed you to go out when you're obviously sleep deprived, and who knows what else...and don't move!" He continued, trying to not be too rough (though securing the arrow would hurt regardless).

Arrow secured, he carefully moved to lift the woman so her uninjured shoulder was pressed against him. Before standing, he regarded their weapons with a sigh. Careful not to drop the injured huntress, he reached with his arm supporting her upper body to lift and then half drag, half carry the two weapons by the handle ends. And after he'd just sharpened his blade!

"Hold still. Unless you want me to drop you on the way back..." he grunted in mild annoyance, not keen on hearing her argue and give him a hard time. Making sure he had a sturdy hold on the woman and sufficient grip on the weapons, he began to trudge back out of the forest and towards the village inn.

Eilin grit her teeth, gathering her good arm under her to push up from the ground. The pain hadn't fully registered yet, dulled by the sudden adrenaline flow through her body. She had to move, had to do something. Just one slash of her blade and 20 seconds of survival was all she needed and then she could take care of herself. It was likely a scout, the only demon currently in the area. And boy, if she could use him to send a message to his pack...

All fantasies, really. Somewhere in her now half-delirious state she heard the bow pull back again, the arrow fly, and braced herself for the impact that never came. Instead, somewhere behind her she heard an infuriatingly familiar voice swim into her consciousness.

Sverre... What the hell was he doing out here? Was he following her? And for how long? Were the two demons together? Or were they at odds?

All questions that she could not bring herself to fully focus on even as the voices rose and carried through the forest around them. It was the adrenaline rush that helped Eilin move, using her good arm to prop herself up and drag herself farther out of the way. Near-by was a tree. If she could get herself behind it, she could assess the situation from a safer vantage point. So she forced herself up, gaining her feet under her and making a beeline for the trunk that seemed to be swimming in her view. Lightheadedness. Eilin did her best to not look back, instead keeping her gaze and focus straight ahead on her destination.

There was a shriek behind her and the demons clashed just as Eilin half slammed into and half caught herself on the tree, feeling her way around it to let herself sink down at the base. A little distance from the demons was the best she could really hope for right now. Only then did she dare look back to figure out what was happening, in her agitation reaching for her throwing knives in case she needed to launch it at an ex big brother. Yet from what she could see, he was too preoccupied with the one that attacked her, at least answering the immediate question of if they were from the same pack.

Once immediate danger was off of her, Eilin tried to remind herself to breath as she eased herself into a more comfortable position, careful to not snag the arrow on anything. It was both a blessing and a curse, though. As the initial surge of adrenaline began to dissipate, leaving her head spinning, the pain came on full force, causing her to tense. She couldn't just rip the thing out, as much as she wanted to just to get it over and done with. There was a good chance she would bleed out in the snow and what was worse, even with the amount of blood she had already lost she was beginning to feel the sharp tendrils of the cold seeping in.

How long the fight lasted, she wasn't sure. Eilin wasn't even sure if she managed to stay awake through it all. Her mind was fuzzy and she was growing irritated with herself for letting this happen in the first place. How dumb was she to come out here while her thoughts were elsewhere? How could she have hoped to have been in the right state of mind to fend for herself with everything going on? Yet she knew that despite it all, she simply had to try and get a leg up on the protections of the village. Otherwise, what was the point of her continued existence?

Eilin's head rolled back against the tree, shutting her eyes to the swimming world around her. There was suddenly silence and she heard a body drop. The fall of approaching footsteps. Then, the sound of Sverre's berating words beside her. The urge to tear into him wasn't difficult to hold back from due to the simple fact that she couldn't move without sharp pains shooting through her. She settled for a glare.

"You don't know the first thing about duty," she bit out the words before a sharp hiss escaped her as he turned to tending her shoulder. The blooming pain was dizzying on its own, but his handling of it, as careful as it was, was still worse. Eilin wasn't usually one for a sailor's tongue but she would later remember a few choice words that she grit out at this infuriatingly helpful demon.

That was really the last thing she would remember as her floating vision faded and she allowed the cold to lull her into unconsciousness while she was lifted to be transported back to safety.

The dark haired woman's sharp retort earned a frown and a roll of his eyes. "For someone who claims to not know me, you certainly have a lot of accusations and assumptions on who I am. Plus, the fact you seem to have magically figured out my name on the first try." He replied dryly. Adjusting his hands ever so carefully to ensure he still had a decent hold on their weapons as well as the sharp tongued huntress, he continued through the forest as the sun began to inch down towards the horizon.

As he carried her, Sverre noticed the woman looked considerably worse for wear than he had initially thought. "Idiot..." he muttered with a disbelieving shake of the head. She surely had a death wish if she dared venture out like this.


Managing to avoid the guards with almost alarming ease, Sverre finally reached the inn about an hour past sundown, give or take. He was spared opening the door, a patron heading out as he approached the door, causing a gasp from the man in question. "Thanks." He said as the stunned villager froze with the door still open.

The demon ignored the wondering gazes of the patrons currently downstairs, casting a glance for the bar maiden he had become acquainted with. Thankfully, he saw her carrying a pitcher of ale out for a rowdy group in the corner and managed to catch her eye as she passed.

"Oh my-"

"I'll be escorting the missus upstairs to my room. I know you're busy, but if you could spare a moment, I'd much appreciate a bowl of warm water and a wash rag. And maybe your help getting a doc in the morning if it isn't too much trouble" he interrupted, gracing the young woman with an apologetic smile.

"O-of course! Here, let me help you...and hold your horses Roland!"

Sverre was grateful to have the bar maid rush ahead of him and open his room, thus sparing him the need to adjust his hold or struggle more than he already was. "Thank you kindly, love. You've been such a great help since I came here." He said with a smile, all but dropping the weapons once he was two feet past the door. Finally he could put the woman down, being careful of her shoulder.

Once the bar maiden left, Sverre let out a long sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow. Even with the snow and beyond human strength and endurance, the trip back had been exhausting. She better not bitch at him for helping.

The huntress had drifted in and out of conciousness, and was currently passed out on his bed. Sverre shrugged off his cloak, then proceeded to slowly roll his 'patient' so she was partially on her side, good shoulder down. He bunched and tucked his cloak against the back of her torso, propping her up with the thick fabric so her back faced him and the injured shoulder was up and away from the bed. Next, he slowly undid the binding and padding he had used to stabilize the arrow in place. Now how was he to remove it?

Sverre looked at the woman's attire, trying to picture how on earth he'd get her shoulder exposed while removing as little clothing as possible. No matter how he looked, a solution did not present itself.

Oh.

Shit.

Letting out a sigh, he ran the fingers of one hand through his ebony hair, cursing under his breath. Dammit all, the only way he could even remotely imagine how to safely remove the arrow and tend to the wound with minimal disturbance would be to cut the fabric away. This was going to be fucking fantastic.

Groaning in frustration, Sverre took out a dagger as he slowly approached the huntress.

"Don't move or freak out on me. I'm gonna try and clean the wound. But I gotta see it first. No funny business, I just gotta cut it, you understand, right?" He warned, not sure if she was awake to hear him or not.

Not hearing any objection, Sverre took a deep breath and gripped the clothing, making sure to keep his hand in between the blade and the woman so he wouldn't cut her. Hesitating only a second, he gingerly held the fabric away from her skin and sliced the sleeve and collar open.

Despite the arrow and the drying blood he should have full focus on, Sverre instead froze as his gaze latched onto the woman's neck.

"E-Eilin?!" He stammered in disbelief, eyes wide and heart squeezing painfully in his chest. It couldn't be. She was dead. And yet...there was no way it could be anyone else...

On her neck was the hauntingly familiar tattoo his dearest friend had acquired as a child. A wolf- -her guardian symbol. He sat frozen, task momentarily forgotten. His hands shook even as he moved them away from her, not daring to believe it. Was he perhaps hallucinating? Projecting? He touched the tattoo with the index finger on his free hand, confirming this person was real. He drew it back, trembling even more now as realization washed over him.

What he had assumed was a cruel cosmic joke in the form of a look alike WAS actually his best friend. A friend he had until now believed to be dead.

"Eilin..."

The trip back was fuzzy in her mind as Eilin drifted in and out of consciousness The further they walked, the less her injured shoulder hurt, it seemed, due to the cold numbing the pain. Why had he not taken the arrow out already? The question was fleeting and then she was unconscious again.

The next time Eilin stirred to the world, she was no longer moving but was propped up on her side. The air surrounding her was much warmer, setting in a deep ache of her shoulder as she began to try and piece together what was going on. The room was swimming still, alerting her to the fact that she either lost entirely too much blood or else there was something else at play.

First things first, she was back at the inn. She could tell by the smell of the place. Yet this was not her room. A movement out of the corner of her eye alerted her to company as Sverre came to her side, a glint of the blade catching her eye before his words registered. Damn it all, why did it have to be him to find her? It was bad enough that she had to try and figure out who his pack was, for him to be trying to help her was infuriating. What was his end goal here? To burn another village to the ground? She wouldn't allow it.

Movement was painful, but she did manage a barely visible, terse nod of her head to him. Not like he could hurt her any worse than he and this arrow had already and if he was able to at least get the arrow out it would be easier to begin assessing the damage from there. The last thing on her mind was any tattoos from childhood that could possibly give away her identity.

Yet there it was, the simple line work of a wolf that had wrapped around the side of her neck since she was a child, looking over her and protecting her. Sverre had joked one day, when he first saw it, that the wolf must be him. A memory that soured when she first realized that those words did not point to him being some guardian for her, but a wolf he was. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

In her state, it took Eilin a moment to register the pause, assuming it came from seeing the wound up close and personal. It wasn't until he spoke her name that she felt a pit form in her stomach and her heart sink down into it as she realized what he was looking at. She had to close her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill again. She hadn't heard her name spoken like that in years but she couldn't break down now, not in front of him.

To distract herself, and hopefully him, she did the only thing she could think of. Gingerly shifting her weight, she was able to balance herself into a half seated position. And seriously, why was the room spinning? No longer looking around, she steeled herself and gripped the front of the arrow protruding from her shoulder before she jerked her wrist, snapping the wood in half.

The action was painful. More painful than she could possibly prepare herself for, causing a muffled scream to escape her throat yet not her lips as she dropped her head, a sheet of black hair obscuring the pain on her face. At least if any tears presented themselves, they could now be explained away on the pain.

"Just get the arrow out," she grit through her teeth at Sverre. If he was so intent on helping her, he could at least do that. Slowly lifting her head, she did her best to brace herself. This part was possibly going to hurt even more, but the worst of it would be over after that and she seemed more eager on that than looking Sverre in the eye. Or looking at him at all, apparently, for she was inspecting the tip of the arrow, turning it over in her hand while she waited.

Sverre's mind and heart were suddenly a whirlwind of emotions. Disbelief that his friend had somehow survived the utter massacre and destruction of her- - their home village. He hadn't found any survivors when he looked, nor were any immediate searches the days after of any success.
Despair that he hadn't been there to comfort her, to share her pain and sorrow. He himself had sat in anguish the following morning, devastated to see everything he loved turned to bloody pieces and ash.
Relief that he had reached her in time after her foolish venture into the forest. She nearly died alone in the cold, no doubt with more arrows in her to ensure her demise.
But mostly, he felt utter elation. A joy he hadn't thought he'd ever feel again now that they were reunited.

Tears of overwhelming joy began to trickle down his cheeks, and he found he couldn't be bothered to care. "Eilin...it really is you!" He said, verbally confirming the dream come true. A broad smile lit up his face, the demon having half a mind to hug her.

Except the desire was shoved aside as a pained hiss escaped his friend, a snap of wood startling him out of his thoughts.

Right. The arrow! They could celebrate later. Eilin wasn't out of danger quite yet, and he had to finish patching her up.
Sverre shook his head to clear his mind, returning to the issue at hand. He barely glanced up as the barmaid brought the warm water and wash cloths, examining the wound when Eilin spoke.

"Yeah! Sorry. You're right. We gotta get this taken care of first." He agreed, pausing only as he watched the woman toy with the arrowhead. Thank the heavens it had gone clean through. Had it been lodged in her flesh, things would've been far worse. And a higher risk to her life.

He frowned suddenly as he looked at the arrowhead, irritated to find he only now noticed an unusual scent. That plus her waning consciousness stirred up suspicion. "Don't touch it. I...think it may be poisoned." Crap. He'd go out for the town healer as soon as he was done.

For now, he had to remove the offending object. Sverre could see the pain in her body language, and he wished nothing more that to ease it. This was not going to be a smooth fix. He regarded the now broken arrow, wincing at the splintered edges where his friend had snapped the head off. Carefully, he brought over the water and rags to place them on the bedside table before picking up the leather strap and the torn piece of cloak he had stabilized the arrow with in the first place.

"I'm sorry...but I don't think it's safe to pull yet. The splinters will get stuck in your shoulder. I...I know this is hard, but try to bear with me." He began apologetically, re stabilizing the arrow and securing it in place as carefully as he could. He didn't want to prolong her pain any more, but he couldn't think of any other viable solution that was also safe. " I'm gonna cut this end so it's smooth enough to not leave slivers and splinters. Then we can pull it out from the front." Sverre explained further as he took his knife, hoping his inhuman strength would be enough to quickly cut the other end without the need to use sawing motions.

"I'm gonna start, tell me if I need to stop." The male took the back part of the arrow, holding it as firm and steady as he possibly could as he cut away the wood just proximal to the feathers. It took several agonizingly tense minutes, but he somehow managed to carve the other side into a lumpy but otherwise smoooth-ish end without any frayed slivers or splinters.

"You ok? I think we can pull from the front now."

Sverre's musings about the arrowhead only confirmed her suspicion. It was difficult for her to place it, with dried blood now coating the tip, but she had been drawing the same conclusion right before he spoke. Still, it didn't prevent him receiving an eye roll and a soft "No shit..." in return as Eilin impatiently waited for the rest of the forsaken object to be removed. Unfortunately for her, her ever-so-helpful demon elected to take the long-way around the problem of removing the arrow carefully lest it leave any wooden shards behind in her shoulder. It was a move that severely irritated her. She simply wanted it done with. Yet the more logical side of her mind knew that Sverre was right and so she didn't give him too hard of a time as he secured the arrow and went at the back of it.

"Just... make it quick," was all she bit out. Her head was swimming, she felt like she got trampled on by an elephant, and the stabbing pain of the arrow being handled did not make the day any better. She idly wondered if under Sverre's bustling demeanor he was secretly enjoying this even as she held herself braced, breathing through the unyielding pain. It was like trying to breath through a wet rag, labored and heavy as all breath seemed to be sucked out of her.

The final snag of the tail of the arrow coming free shot a sharp pain into her, causing her to finally lose the battle with herself. She gave a short strangled cry, but did nothing more to stop him from doing what was needed. She only hoped that it was almost over.

That was when Sverre deemed his more careful shaping of the back of the arrow clean enough to be pulled through.

No sooner had the words left his lips than she had a hold of the splintered end in her own grasp, giving a firm tug to pull it through and free with such a pitiful cry that she hated herself for even being capable of making the noise. Later on, she would only hope that the strength it took to pull the thing out was enough to offset the weakness she felt in that moment.

Impatience. That had always been one of Eilin's star qualities when dealing with anything she didn't like even as a mere child. That much seemed to not have changed in the least.

As she eased back, her breath heaving to try and catch up to reality, she shakily allowed her muscles to begin relaxing. It was out. The rest would be easier to deal with. Physically, anyway.

"They botched it," she spoke weakly, tilting her head to try and shake some of the hair out of her face. In a way, she was glad it had hid the worst of her pained expressions, but she was sweating now and strands of hair were sticking to her forehead where she did not want it.

"The poison. It's meant to disorient. It was a bad batch," she clarified after a moment of gathering her breathing. "Not lethal." She just needed a good day's rest. How did she know this? Let us just say that she had been on the giving end of one of these black-market screw-ups before.

Another quality that had not changed since her childhood days? The remarkable way of how she could fall into a chat with Sverre as if no time had passed. This particular moment could be attributed to her weakened state and swimming mind, no doubt the huntress would be on her guard the moment she had enough rest.

Despite her strong resolve, eventually Eilin did react vocally. Her strangled cry of pain caused Sverre's heart to clench painfully, worry in his cool eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm almost done Eilin, hold on..." he said as he worked.

Despite knowing Eilin's lack of patience, the man was still startled when she yanked the shaft free as soon as he told her it was safe to do so. The painful cry was even worse than the last one, and it took considerable effort to not try and give her a soothing hug. He had to be mindful of the injury.

"Easy. Let me clean it first, ok?" Sverre grabbed one of the wash cloths and folded it several times before pressing it to the wound as it started to bleed again. He felt a small bubble of relief that it wasn't gushing or spraying. Not a fatal shot at least.

He kept steady pressure on her shoulder for roughly two to three minutes before cautiously pulling the cloth away. Placing the bloody cloth aside, he dipped the next one in the bowl of warm water, wringing out the excess moisture. Tentatively, he dabbed as gingerly as he could around the wound, cleaning it as best he knew how.

Eilin's voice was weak when she spoke, causing the demons brows to furrow slightly. She sounded sure, but she was clearly not well. "Shhh. Don't force yourself." He began. Glancing at his friend's face, he mentally took note of her features in a new light. Yes. This was definitely her, just grown up. He found himself thinking she had aged well. Her head rolled to the side, and yet her hair clung to her skin from the sweat. He'd have to get a cool cloth in a few minutes. Without even thinking about it, Sverre brushed aside her bangs and loose strands of hair as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"That may be so...but I think I'm gonna fetch the local doc just the same. You look like you could use one." Sverre replied, his tone suggesting that he wasn't going to take 'no' as an answer.

She was trembling. Eilin only registered this as she began to sink down into the bedding around her, the pressure on her wound as Sverre worked to clean it almost soothing after the handling of the arrow itself. Right at that moment she couldn't tell if her muscles were reacting to the high stress, if she was getting cold again, or if it was simply the exhaustion that made it difficult to stay completely still. Perhaps it was a mixture of multiple reasons.

Her breath hitched from time to time as she worked to stabilize it. Eventually, the pain resolved itself into a dull ache, the area around the injury feeling almost numb after the handling of the day.

If she registered the soft brush of his hand over her hair, freeing it from her forehead, she didn't show it. A day ago she would have likely tried to stab him, but she was in no position to attempt a fight, let alone hope to win one. And his words were met with a simple huff of annoyance.

"Sverre..." she spoke. "Always the hero." It was unclear whether the words were an insult, a friendly jab, or her remembering the old days. She was not conscious long enough to explain herself as the weariness of the day finally fell over her like a soft blanket, carrying her away from reality.

Sverre's brow furrowed in worry as he did his best to clean the arrow wound, noticing how the young woman trembled. It couldn't be infected yet, surely? So perhaps the poison wasn't as weak as she thought. Cleaning the hole itself now in an effort to flush it out, Sverre mumbled in apology if she flinched or seemed to be at all in pain. The wash was concluded with pressing a third cloth to the wound, leaving this one in place but not yet bandaging her.

Despite his instructions to shush, Eilin seemed to need to get one last thing out, almost a scoff if he tried to place the tone. Hero? That was a new one.

"Eh. I try..." he answered almost sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Now pipe down. I'm gonna get the healer, so you stay put." He continued unnecessarily, noting his companion drifting off in less than a minute.

Checking to ensure Eilin was breathing ok and seemed safe, Sverre wiped down her spear before he forgot. Checking once more to be certain she was still ok, he finally gathered the bowl, two dirty wash cloths, and his sword before heading out, closing the door softly behind him.

He returned the borrowed items to the barmaid, thanking her and apologizing for the mess and inconvenience. Slipping her two small coins as thanks, he got directions for the village healer, wasting no time in bringing them back.

To his immense relief, the healer assured him that while she had been poisoned, the amount wasn't lethal and it was incorrectly concocted, further lowering its efficacy. The medic cleaned the wound again for good measure, then put plain honey over the hole before wrapping the huntresses shoulder in a bandage. Leaving a pot of honey, some poppy, and bandages, the healer gave Sverre full care instructions, took his payment, and departed back home, eager for sleep.
*******

For the next thirty (or was it fourty?) hours, Sverre kept a near constant vigil of the dark haired huntress. He had water and food brought up, placed cool rags on her warm brow, and changed the bandage once, having been instructed to do so if it became damp and dirty or every other day (whichever came first).

At some point during the evening, Sverre nodded off at Eilin's bedside, head eventually resting several inches from her blanket covered knees.

How long had she been asleep? Eilin could only remember very vague moments of wakefulness. Hearing Sverre talking with someone near-by. Then a moment of the sun rising beyond the windows. Something cold being applied to her forehead. Yet the moments were short and fleeting.

Over a 24 hour period her tremors gradually disappeared, her breathing evening out as the poison worked its way out of her system. Even for a weak batch such as this, she had gotten lucky. Had the coated arrow tip embedded in her shoulder, she would have likely been much worse off in the aftermath of the attack.

It was night, a crescent moon hanging in the sky and casting a soft glow through the windows, that Eilin finally woke up to. It was the first time she regained proper consciousness and it took her a good few minutes to orient herself.

She was still in the same room Sverre had brought her to after the attack. Gingerly, Eilin shifted only to be met with an ache in her shoulder, causing her to wince slightly and reach over to find it bandaged up. The arrow... Right... Slowly the memory of her trek through the forest, the scout, and the fight all returned to her and she felt dread setting in at the consequences of her actions.

Sverre now knew who she was and as she looked around she found him, head on the covers, fast asleep next to her. What in the hell was he still doing here? Why had he come? Why did he insist on helping her? Was it some sort of a cruel joke? Guilt for burning her village to the ground? No... demons had no guilt nor shame, at least none she had ever come across. So what was his play in all of this?

Blinking away the haze, Eilin slowly propped herself up on her good arm, easing herself into a seated position. She had no idea if the movement would wake Sverre or not but the closeness of him was making her uneasy and so she shifted herself further away, eyes locked on that shaggy black hair she loved to play with as a child. Her mind was beginning to race as it woke up slowly. What could she do? Tell him to leave? Run away? Fight? Pretend she never woke up? Every options seemed more ridiculous than the last.

Eventually she settled on picking up a cup that had been left on the bedside, inspecting it to find it was simple water. That she did need so she drank and attempted to try and figure a way out of this bizarre situation.

The demon thankfully had a dreamless sleep thusfar, only an occasional snore coming from him as he rested. It wasn't until his brain and body registered movement mere inches from him that he began to stir.

Glancing up, Sverre groggily took in his surroundings, vaguely wondering why his neck and back felt unusually stiff. His thoughts began to clear as he shook his head lightly, stretching slightly from what he realized was the source of his discomfort- halfway lying down on a bed slightly too low for an ideal upright sleeping position.

Movement towards the headboard caught his attention, the sight of his friend banishing any lingering fatigue. He was glad, relieved even, to see she had awoken. "Hey you. How you feelin? Had me worried there for a while." He said, giving her an almost boyish grin. "Should I get some food? Bet you're famished."

Eilin had ruled out running and trying to fight him - or rather her current condition did - when she felt the man beside her stirring out of his own sleep. Truth be told, it likely didn't take him a lot to awaken and no sooner had she lowered the cup of water than he was looking around and speaking. It was that grin that took her off-guard. She was sure that finding out she was alive would be cause for him to treat her like an unfortunate survivor. Whether he would toy with her or threaten her life had yet to be determined but as genuine as his eager facade appeared she knew that she could not trust it.

"Why?" she heard herself say quietly before her mind could stop her tongue. At first it sounded as if she was questioning his offer of food but as her gaze fell on him it betrayed that distrust she held so deeply within herself. The same one he likely saw from her before the revelation of who she really was. Her eyebrows knit together as she watched him.

Why are you here? Why did you save me? What do you want with me?

All of these questions flew threw her mind, unable to be spoken before the next would take its place. Yet after a moment of silence it wasn't a question that escaped her lips but a simple statement that she was almost afraid to voice. A statement that was at the heart of the betrayal she had felt ever since she first learned the truth.

"We were family."

At first, Sverre continued to smile, content to wait if Eilin needed a moment after waking up. He was glad to see her drink her water without incident, prompting him to pour her some more from a pitcher the barmaid had been kind enough to bring up at his request. "Have some more. Don't worry, I got plenty." He encouraged, returning the glass to the nightstand.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting from his old friend. Some tired banter? A false insult telling him to shut up? A delighted greeting? A puzzled question was not high on his list of what he imagined a miraculous reunion would start with, but he supposed it wasn't too odd.

What was odd was the particular question she asked.

She didn't ask what happened, how he'd found her, where he'd been all these years, or even what made him realize. Instead, she asked him why. Why?

Smile faltering, he frowned slightly in confusion. "Why? What are you talkin' about Eilin?" He prodded, a slow sinking of his gut as he met her eyes. She looked wary and suspicious. Like an old warrior who was a veteran on the fields of battle and haunted by its ghosts. What on earth had happened to her during these years apart? If someone had hurt her to the point where she had to close herself off...well, he'd kill anyone who had dared.

Before Sverre could suggest such an idea in some attempt to bring back some of the light in her eyes, she followed up with a seemingly ordinary statement. But it struck him as particularly cold, and it made no sense. Why the past tense?

"Are. We are family Eirin. You know that..." he corrected with a concerned frown.

Only for the past few days to flood back in from his memory banks and hit him like a splash of ice water.

She was angry at him. And had been hostile towards him. And hiding who she was. But he couldn't fathom why.

"Why didn't you tell me? I mean, I'll admit I should've figured it out sooner, but I had no idea you'd survived."

His consistent use of her name was about as grating on her mind as she was sure her use of his name had been just a day or two prior. However long ago that was. It felt like ages since she had sat across from him downstairs as he attempted to get answers out of her. The annoyance must have shown.

"Demons have no family. You have packs," she bit back before she could stop herself. How dare he insinuate that he was family to her after he had lead his pack to slaughter her entire village?

The outburst was brief yet the moment the words were out of her mouth she almost regretted them. Not because she felt he didn't deserve to hear them, he very much did, but she was losing control of herself. She had to steel herself away. She refused to get emotional in front of him, no matter how much it killed her to put that wall up.

It was his question about her lack of disclosure and not knowing of her survival that caused her to shake her head. Yet she didn't elect to answer. Her mind seemed to be on a one-track streak. It didn't matter what was occurring in the present. What mattered was the past and her decade-old hunt for those who had burned her childhood to the ground. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that Sverre would be at the center of it all.

"They trusted you. We all did. And you lead them to their slaughter," her words held less bitterness yet somehow the calm tone she had taken on was more chilling and concerning than open hostility she had shown him prior. She stopped just short of vowing to him that she would get the revenge she sought, the words catching in her throat. She had faced him, had the opportunity to kill, and had not taken it. But why?

Sverre's frown deepened, her voice venomous when she began with a biting retort. What in the hell was she saying? He had never had a pack. Why did the woman who used to follow him around, the one who called him family in the first place, suddenly decide they weren't? Swallowing a painful lump of increasingly hurt feelings, he shook his head.

"First off, I'm not a full blood. Second, I've never had a pack...and I highly doubt I ever will." He countered matter-of-factly. He had thought she understood this? Why was she suddenly against him? Surely he was dreaming...this was his best friend of all things! Sure, they squabbled like siblings, but she had never before spoken to him with such hatred.

When she finally decided to continue, her level and cold tone was almost worse than the harsh bite she had just used. Eilin's words were as unexpected as a punch to the gut, and likewise made him feel almost ill. She thought HE was responsible for the annihilation of their home village?!

The idea that Eilin thought this was equal parts depressing and insulting. Sverre stood behind the chair he'd been keeping watch from, lips pressed into a tight line as he fought to keep his voice from rising.

"Y-you think I was the one who attacked our home?! Me?" Sverre began in a choked sputter of righteous indignation. His eyes bored into hers, even as sorrow began to fill his grey-blue gaze. "Eilin...how could you possibly think that? Why would.." he stopped, barely even able to fathom having to ever say such a sentence. "Why would I destroy the only home...the only family I've ever known or had?!" His voice raised slightly at the end, exuding utter disbelief and astonishment.