[ She sounds pleasantly surprised by his answer; when she'd first seen him, she genuinely would have thought he was a hunter by nature. Or at least somewhere on that scale of looking for animals and easy bounties. ]
A lot of people need to be helped, and not a lot of others offer it.
[ Today is a perfect example, if she's honest. She could have tried to save herself, to get out of that cage, to figure a way to detach the snare, to limp her way to a healer or a fey willing to help her. But the likelier outcome was the same one that befell far too many like her: she would have been found and killed, or brought back to Neverwinter for whatever fate the guard had in store.
The idea makes her shudder. ]
Do you mind if I...?
[ She gestures vaguely to illustrate that she wants to wind her arm around Peter's shoulders – an easier way to use him like a crutch, when her hopping along is still awkward. ]
[ He hesitates for a second before leaning down a little, making it a little easier for her to get her arm around his neck. It'll be a little awkward for both of them, admittedly, but no more awkward than it already is; it'll be faster this way, too, he figures.
He's equally hesitant before he wraps his arm around her waist – light and barely there – to help support her. ]
[ Yan tenses for only a heartbeat, but as she adjusts to what Peter is doing .– and how careful he's being – she offers a nod, settling more comfortably into using him as a makeshift crutch. ]
[ He lets out a quiet, affirmative hum, getting a slightly better grip on her waist as they continue on.
They continue on in silence for a while, with Peter listening carefully for the noise of pursuers. For now, everything seems calm around them – the faint rustle of the leaves and branches above them, the quiet calls of wildlife – and Peter lets himself relax a little.
[ Yan hops along beside him, having a considerably easier time now that he's supporting so much of her weight (not that there's an especially significant portion of it to begin with).
She glances at him from the corner of her eye, her nose wrinkling. ]
I thought I was tracking a rabbit. The cage didn't appear until I was already inside of it.
[ He frowns a little, glancing up through the tree tops. The light is fading, and it's a little too soon to think about stopping and setting up camp for the evening. ]
[ One of those smaller, tentative smiles tugs faintly at her lips. ]
Then I guess I will take you up on it. I really don't need much, though.
[ She's apparently determined she can hold out – mostly, because she doesn't want to take more than Peter is already doing for her. They may have reached some tenuous understanding, but Yan doesn't want to push it. ]
[ He offers up another little hum, somehow both acknowledging and skeptical. It seems to say, “Sure, if you say so,” only without so many words.
After a while spent hobbling, Peter peers up at the darkening sky and determines that this is the best time to try and set up camp while there’s still a bit of daylight. He finds a small clearing surrounded by bushes and tall trees – relatively private and hidden, which is the best they’re likely to manage without any additional work, physical or magical.
He helps Yan to sit before slipping off his pack, digging through his supplies and producing some jerky and dried fruit carefully wrapped in cloth. He holds it out to her, and once she takes it, he works on stringing his bow. ]
[ Yan can't help being frustrated with how far they don't manage to get, but she has to remind herself that trying to travel on a broken foot isn't any shade of easy. When the sun is finally starting to set, she allows Peter to select a location; funnily, it's a complete opposite from what Yan would have chosen, but that's mostly because she would have looked for cover to fit a fox, not a clearing big enough for humans to rest.
Racial differences.
She only winces slightly when Peter helps her to the ground, and she readjusts to find the least painful way to keep her foot. She looks up when Peter offers her the little wrapping of food, and she considers it, looking from the cloth to his face. She's reluctant to take it, but not out of distrust.
A moment of hesitation more, and then she accepts the food. She unknots the cloth—
—and is almost immediately tearing into the jerky ravenously.
So much for not being hungry.
She's mid-chew as she glances back at Peter, speaking with her mouth full of the dried meat. ]
Mmmn— d'you think you can bring me a couple of small sticks on your way back?
[ He asks it with a bit of effort as he's getting the bowstring in place. It doesn't take long, however, thanks to practice, and he carefully plucks the string to ensure it's sitting properly. ]
[ He casts her a slightly smug look when she scarfs down another bite, almost like he's saying, Thought so. Fox spirits are clever, or so the stories say, which means that if Yan was foolish enough to stumble into a magicked cage, she must've been desperate.
He looks like he's about to set off, but he pauses. Then, ]
[ She gives him an unimpressed look as she’s taking a bite from some dried fruit; of course she knows to stay quiet and keep a low profile. In some ways, she’s every bit the wild animal she looks in her other form, and she’s stayed alive this long. She knows how this works.
She genuinely does her best not to eat all of Peter’s food; she saves a chunk of the rations for him, rewrapping them in the cloth and setting them aside as she waits for him to return with a fresh kill. She feels— well, useless, if she’s honest. She’s been taking care of herself for so many years that being this hurt, this reliant, this vulnerable on any other person sets her on edge. She doesn’t know much about the human, and that makes her trust tenuous at best, but she also doesn’t think he’s going to kill her.
Which is largely the only guarantee she needs right now.
Time passes as the light continues to dim, and Yan keeps her ears open and her eyes peeled for signs of unwelcome company. She makes note of the sounds of the forest, the other animals going about their lives, and it’s… peaceful. Comfortable.
Until the fall of boots makes her head snap around to stare at the distant trees. At first, her instincts tell her it’s Peter, but—
It’s more than one pair stomping through the brush.
Her heartbeat thunders in her ribs, and she looks rapidly for cover. She first starts pushing herself up, only to fall back with the slightest weight on her ankle. Adrenaline makes the decision quickly for her, and her form immediately begins to shift and morph into the familiar fox. Peter’s jacket falls in a puddle on the grass, next to the cloth of food.
It’s not as easy, but hopping around on three legs lets her keep somewhat balanced as she starts to dart for the bushes, but—
She stops when she realizes she can’t just leave Peter’s coat in the open.
Fuck.
She rushes back, clamping her teeth around the leather collar as she starts to drag it into the bush with her, out of sight, away from prying eyes—
She only gets it mostly concealed when she hears men’s voices approaching the clearing.
As much as she wants to keep trying to hide the coat, she makes the desperate decision to let it go, turning to crawl as quietly as she can into the deeper brush.
She watches from behind branches and leaves, pressed low to the ground, as two men in leathers, one with a drawn bow and one with a sword, come into view. ]
You sure that sorcerer knew what he was talking about?
[ The low drawl of one of the hunters sounds annoyed. ]
He said she wouldn’t be able to get far. [ The other points out as he lowers his bow. ] If she’s injured, she’s going to wear herself out trying to run. One of us is bound to stumble onto her when she can’t keep going.
[ Yan’s breathing stops. ]
Well, fuck it, it’s gettin’ dark now. We’re not finding much until sun up.
Head back or stay here?
I’m bloody tired. We can just lay out here for the night.
[ Only the fact that Yan is plastered to the ground keeps her from shaking. ]
All right. Dig out some of that meat, would you? I’ll see about a fire.
[ The hunters put away their weapons, and they start to drop their packs. ]
Oy… [ The broader one pauses, before he starts walking towards where Yan had been sitting. ] The hells is this?
[ And he picks up the little cloth of rations she left behind.
Shit. ]
Someone’s been here.
[ Shit.
Both of the hunters straighten, and instead of starting to settle, they begin pouring over the clearing. Yan takes minuscule steps backwards, but it’s so hard not to drop too much weight on her only good rear paw.
She doesn’t make it far before one of the hunters is approaching where she’d mostly hidden Peter’s jacket. He lifts it up, frowning as he considers it in what’s left of the evening light. ]
[ All things considered, Peter isn't gone for very long. Most of his time is spent trying to track down something suitable. They hadn't made very much noise during their trek, but apparently it was enough to spook off the local wildlife. Peter ventures a little further than he likes before he's able to track down a rabbit, killing it with a well-aimed arrow.
He's bringing it back, along with the requested sticks – sturdy, but relatively light – and as he's returning to camp, he hears the noise of shuffling, hears unfamiliar voices. He pauses, tucking himself behind a tree as he listens. Two men, it sounds like, and not particularly happy, given the tones of their voices. At best, they're two wandering hunters. At worst, they're the ones that set the trap that captured Yan.
Peter knows which one he's likely to bet on, but he hopes he's wrong.
Still, if it's the latter, he doesn't hear the noise of struggle, and neither does he hear the familiar sounds of satisfaction at the end of a hunt – relieved laughter or boisterous crowing or the familiar patter of, "What are you going to do with your share?" It tells him they haven't found her yet, if that's what they're here for, and if they're making that much noise, they don't seem to be actively looking for her.
Good signs, he guesses. Though after a beat, he corrects himself by thinking, It's still not my problem.
His problem or not, though, he takes a gamble but moving into the clearing, dead rabbit in tow. Yan doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight, after a quick glance around. His posture is relaxed, easy, though it's a struggle to maintain that demeanor when he sees one of the men holding up his coat, praising it.
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Not often, no. But the pay was good, and I'm running a little low on funds.
Usually I just... kind of do a little of everything. Which apparently includes picking rare flowers and stalking rare weasels.
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[ She sounds pleasantly surprised by his answer; when she'd first seen him, she genuinely would have thought he was a hunter by nature. Or at least somewhere on that scale of looking for animals and easy bounties. ]
That sounds like a very free way to live.
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I guess I hadn't thought of it like that. But, yeah. I suppose it is.
It's not much, but— I help people, when I can. Assuming there are people who want to be helped.
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[ Today is a perfect example, if she's honest. She could have tried to save herself, to get out of that cage, to figure a way to detach the snare, to limp her way to a healer or a fey willing to help her. But the likelier outcome was the same one that befell far too many like her: she would have been found and killed, or brought back to Neverwinter for whatever fate the guard had in store.
The idea makes her shudder. ]
Do you mind if I...?
[ She gestures vaguely to illustrate that she wants to wind her arm around Peter's shoulders – an easier way to use him like a crutch, when her hopping along is still awkward. ]
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He's equally hesitant before he wraps his arm around her waist – light and barely there – to help support her. ]
This okay?
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It's fine.
[ She offers him a small, self-conscious smile. ]
It's a little easier.
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They continue on in silence for a while, with Peter listening carefully for the noise of pursuers. For now, everything seems calm around them – the faint rustle of the leaves and branches above them, the quiet calls of wildlife – and Peter lets himself relax a little.
Then, carefully, ]
How'd you end up in that cage, anyway?
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She glances at him from the corner of her eye, her nose wrinkling. ]
I thought I was tracking a rabbit. The cage didn't appear until I was already inside of it.
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[ It's an obvious enough answer, all things considered, but he feels silly for not realizing— ]
You were hungry.
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[ She confirms it with a sigh.
All of this, and she still didn’t get her meal. ]
I haven’t eaten since I left Neverwinter.
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Think you can hold out a little while longer?
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I'm fine. We can hold out for a while, in case hunting becomes scarce.
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We'll start setting up camp at sundown. It's not much, but I've got some rations you can have while I track something down a little more substantial.
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You don't have to share your food with me. It's yours.
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And you’re just gonna sit there watching while I eat?
I may be an asshole, but I’m not a total dick.
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Then I guess I will take you up on it. I really don't need much, though.
[ She's apparently determined she can hold out – mostly, because she doesn't want to take more than Peter is already doing for her. They may have reached some tenuous understanding, but Yan doesn't want to push it. ]
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After a while spent hobbling, Peter peers up at the darkening sky and determines that this is the best time to try and set up camp while there’s still a bit of daylight. He finds a small clearing surrounded by bushes and tall trees – relatively private and hidden, which is the best they’re likely to manage without any additional work, physical or magical.
He helps Yan to sit before slipping off his pack, digging through his supplies and producing some jerky and dried fruit carefully wrapped in cloth. He holds it out to her, and once she takes it, he works on stringing his bow. ]
Help yourself. I’ve got more.
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Racial differences.
She only winces slightly when Peter helps her to the ground, and she readjusts to find the least painful way to keep her foot. She looks up when Peter offers her the little wrapping of food, and she considers it, looking from the cloth to his face. She's reluctant to take it, but not out of distrust.
A moment of hesitation more, and then she accepts the food. She unknots the cloth—
—and is almost immediately tearing into the jerky ravenously.
So much for not being hungry.
She's mid-chew as she glances back at Peter, speaking with her mouth full of the dried meat. ]
Mmmn— d'you think you can bring me a couple of small sticks on your way back?
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[ He asks it with a bit of effort as he's getting the bowstring in place. It doesn't take long, however, thanks to practice, and he carefully plucks the string to ensure it's sitting properly. ]
Making a splint?
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Mmhmm. So I don't move it as much.
Do you mind if I borrow cloth for it?
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[ He casts her a slightly smug look when she scarfs down another bite, almost like he's saying, Thought so. Fox spirits are clever, or so the stories say, which means that if Yan was foolish enough to stumble into a magicked cage, she must've been desperate.
He looks like he's about to set off, but he pauses. Then, ]
Human-sized sticks, right?
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Food is more important than being indignant. ]
Mm. [ Mouth full, whoops. ] H'man-sized.
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It's why he nods, hefting his bow. ]
Human-sized sticks. Got it.
Stay quiet and out of sight till I'm back. [ He doubts it needs saying, but there he goes, saying it anyway. ] I'll try to be quick.
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She genuinely does her best not to eat all of Peter’s food; she saves a chunk of the rations for him, rewrapping them in the cloth and setting them aside as she waits for him to return with a fresh kill. She feels— well, useless, if she’s honest. She’s been taking care of herself for so many years that being this hurt, this reliant, this vulnerable on any other person sets her on edge. She doesn’t know much about the human, and that makes her trust tenuous at best, but she also doesn’t think he’s going to kill her.
Which is largely the only guarantee she needs right now.
Time passes as the light continues to dim, and Yan keeps her ears open and her eyes peeled for signs of unwelcome company. She makes note of the sounds of the forest, the other animals going about their lives, and it’s… peaceful. Comfortable.
Until the fall of boots makes her head snap around to stare at the distant trees. At first, her instincts tell her it’s Peter, but—
It’s more than one pair stomping through the brush.
Her heartbeat thunders in her ribs, and she looks rapidly for cover. She first starts pushing herself up, only to fall back with the slightest weight on her ankle. Adrenaline makes the decision quickly for her, and her form immediately begins to shift and morph into the familiar fox. Peter’s jacket falls in a puddle on the grass, next to the cloth of food.
It’s not as easy, but hopping around on three legs lets her keep somewhat balanced as she starts to dart for the bushes, but—
She stops when she realizes she can’t just leave Peter’s coat in the open.
Fuck.
She rushes back, clamping her teeth around the leather collar as she starts to drag it into the bush with her, out of sight, away from prying eyes—
She only gets it mostly concealed when she hears men’s voices approaching the clearing.
As much as she wants to keep trying to hide the coat, she makes the desperate decision to let it go, turning to crawl as quietly as she can into the deeper brush.
She watches from behind branches and leaves, pressed low to the ground, as two men in leathers, one with a drawn bow and one with a sword, come into view. ]
You sure that sorcerer knew what he was talking about?
[ The low drawl of one of the hunters sounds annoyed. ]
He said she wouldn’t be able to get far. [ The other points out as he lowers his bow. ] If she’s injured, she’s going to wear herself out trying to run. One of us is bound to stumble onto her when she can’t keep going.
[ Yan’s breathing stops. ]
Well, fuck it, it’s gettin’ dark now. We’re not finding much until sun up.
Head back or stay here?
I’m bloody tired. We can just lay out here for the night.
[ Only the fact that Yan is plastered to the ground keeps her from shaking. ]
All right. Dig out some of that meat, would you? I’ll see about a fire.
[ The hunters put away their weapons, and they start to drop their packs. ]
Oy… [ The broader one pauses, before he starts walking towards where Yan had been sitting. ] The hells is this?
[ And he picks up the little cloth of rations she left behind.
Shit. ]
Someone’s been here.
[ Shit.
Both of the hunters straighten, and instead of starting to settle, they begin pouring over the clearing. Yan takes minuscule steps backwards, but it’s so hard not to drop too much weight on her only good rear paw.
She doesn’t make it far before one of the hunters is approaching where she’d mostly hidden Peter’s jacket. He lifts it up, frowning as he considers it in what’s left of the evening light. ]
Well. Isn’t this nice?
no subject
He's bringing it back, along with the requested sticks – sturdy, but relatively light – and as he's returning to camp, he hears the noise of shuffling, hears unfamiliar voices. He pauses, tucking himself behind a tree as he listens. Two men, it sounds like, and not particularly happy, given the tones of their voices. At best, they're two wandering hunters. At worst, they're the ones that set the trap that captured Yan.
Peter knows which one he's likely to bet on, but he hopes he's wrong.
Still, if it's the latter, he doesn't hear the noise of struggle, and neither does he hear the familiar sounds of satisfaction at the end of a hunt – relieved laughter or boisterous crowing or the familiar patter of, "What are you going to do with your share?" It tells him they haven't found her yet, if that's what they're here for, and if they're making that much noise, they don't seem to be actively looking for her.
Good signs, he guesses. Though after a beat, he corrects himself by thinking, It's still not my problem.
His problem or not, though, he takes a gamble but moving into the clearing, dead rabbit in tow. Yan doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight, after a quick glance around. His posture is relaxed, easy, though it's a struggle to maintain that demeanor when he sees one of the men holding up his coat, praising it.
He hates when people touch his stuff. ]
That would be mine.
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