Two voices - A hunters tale

Written for my old mute huntress Tamali, since race-changed to a squid ^^

It was a good axe

A few practise swings sent moonlight dancing off the keen edge. His Father had given it as a gift, an heirloom of their clan. The boy would become a warrior soon, initiated into the warband at the next summer ceremony.

His Mother watched him leave to gather firewood.

No words of caution or care were necessary; it would show a weakness of faith in the skills of her child, but still her dark eyes followed him.


The greenskin wandered into view. She shrank back into the shadows to watch. From her perch on the tree branch she could see he was alone.

She tilted her head, listening to the coarse noise… humming. He seemed oblivious, at ease, almost enjoying his foray into the wilds away from the safety of the orc camp.


"Cowards" his Father had called them.

"They’ll come at you from the darkness" his father had spat to a chorus of agreement from those around the fire. The young boy always sat in awe on those nights, where the warband would gather to spin tales of bravery and battles won and lost.

"If they had any skill, they’d come at us face to face... but no… low cowards" His father’s voice was deep and compelling, sure in his belief. "They’ll have a knife in your back if you’re not watching it".


The bow string tensed as she pulled it back. The faintest sound, the greenskin seemed not to have heard it. She sighted along the arrow, past the pale grey owl feather fletching. Drawing her aim carefully, she exhaled slowly…


He was spun around, dazed by the sudden strike, the axe went clattering to the floor and the humming died in his throat, becoming a grunt of pain as he fell to his knees.

Looking to his chest, he stared dumbly at the arrow buried there, at the bloom of dark blood already spreading across his leather tunic.


Dropping lightly to the ground she walked slowly towards him, eyes fixed, dagger raised. It was not the killing stroke she had hoped for, but archery was not her trade. She was risking a lot to attack so close to the horde camp.


His arms had grown so heavy, gasping for breath but he could find no air. His balance gave way and he slumped onto his side. Hands scrabbling through the leafmould towards the axe… his Father’s axe, but it was too far and he knew the longear was closing in.


She watched him claw through the dirt. Saw the strength leaving him. She sheathed her dagger. This young one would offer no fight. Pushing the body over she paused, his wet eyes were pale blue, like a clear dawn. Their gaze locked, strands of her white hair falling down, whispering above his skin.


Through the gathering mist, eyes like twin stars hovered above him. She was mouthing something but the world was fading from his senses. He could feel the tug of his money purse being cut away, of his pockets being searched. He thought of dark eyes and turned to look at the axe just out of reach.


Following his gaze she knew what he wanted, to face the afterlife with a weapon in his hand. It was a good axe, his knuckles tightened around the hilt when she placed it in his grasp. His features twisted into a bitter smile, teeth bared, in fear or pleasure she could not be sure.

She had no voice, but as his last breath escaped she mouthed "I have brought you peace" before melding back into the night.