Wake of the Dead | Two

Chapter Thirty-Six | Killian

Birdsong flitted through the trees in a disarray, no care for neatness or melody, just the way Killian liked it. Birds, unlike people, had no qualms with disorganization in their song. They only sang, heralding the sun as they twittered through the trees, unwitting of the world below. There were times where Killian had wished he could be a bird. He'd have no care in the world, he could fly anywhere he wanted.

Killian wasn't a bird though. He was hungry. On his knees, the hunter's crossbow was aimed at the ready, pointed at a quail rummaging in the dirt for food. He was hidden under the branches of a shrub, his body twisted uncomfortably to fit. It was worth it though. A good catch was always worth the trivial knot in his back or cramp in his side. Quail weren't easy to find in cold weather, especially when it could snow at any point in time.

With Casimir holding his breath next to Killian, he aimed farther away from the bird, opposite of where Killian was set to pull the trigger in case it made a break for it. When he was sure his aim was right, Killian moved his finger back. It didn't take much pressure to for the crossbow to let its bolt fly. The shot grazed the quail's side, knocking it over. Before it could run, Casimir finished it off with an expert shot to the head.

Scrambling out from under the bush, Killian hiked his crossbow over his shoulder and shook his head in an attempt to clear the leaves stuck in it. It didn't work very well. "Here, let me." Casimir said. Standing as stiffly as possible, Killian watched as the rival hunter meticulously removed a few twigs and leaves from his hair. "There. Nice catch."

Killian blinked. "I wasn't the one who killed it."

"You still helped."

It baffled Killian how suddenly Casimir had taken a liking to him. Where did those months of rivalry go? Ever since he'd hurt his leg, the other man hadn't been anything other than passive towards him. Not passive aggressive either. Just...calm. The jibing remarks Casimir had made on their patrol already seemed liked playful teasing instead of insults. Killian was suspicious, but pleasantly surprised as well. Since Casimir was the one to catch the quail, Killian let him retrieve it.

Casimir returned with the fowl in his hand and his bow slung over one shoulder. He'd retrieved Killian's bolt as well, handing it to him. "Why are you being so...nice?" He peered at his rival carefully.

"Because you're not a threat anymore," Casimir replied bluntly. "When you were still recovering it took just about all day to hunt a single meal down for the group. But with your help it doesn't take long." He cast a halfhearted, more sarcastic frown at Killian. "I hate to say it, but things are easier when we hunt together."

Hushed cursing emerged from a thorn bush as Samantha attempted to pull thorns away from her skin. "Sam," Killian's brows raised, barely forcing back a small smile. "What the hell happened?"

The girl padded stiff-leggedly over to Killian, holding up a rabbit in one hand. "This happened." She glared at the fresh-kill irritably. "The damn thing ran."

"Well if something shot a pointy stick at me I'd run too." Casimir shrugged.

"But not through a thorn bush," Killian couldn't help but add, crossing his arms and canting his head to the side. "I don't know if you noticed or not, but humans aren't exactly covered in thorn-proof fur."

Stomping over, Samantha thrust the rabbit into Killian's arms with the grace of a limp pidgeon. She said nothing as she continued in the direction of the farmhouse, presumably to get some medical attention from Cohen. "She won't be in a good mood tonight." Casimir said. The hunters kept their voice as low as possible, in case prey was nearby. An alarm call from any bird would be enough to scatter possible food immediately into hiding.