A Rivers Gift [Monster Hunter World]

Chapter 4: Home

I sing out to my queen. No reply. My incorporeal body swims in the blackness. Our heir. That fool. Killing my vessel. I smile to myself. I'll just have to do this without a form. My connection to my beautiful master still lingers. I follow it.

————

I hear the Handler's voice ring out against my ears, the flickering of firelight invading my mind. I open my eyes a slit. The Admiral, seeming unharmed, sits next to a nervous Handler, along with the perpetually armored Huntsman. I lift a hand weakly. The gathered party starts, leaning over me. I frown at them, my eyes heavy and my body feeling thin. At my failed attempts at signing something coherent the Handler answers my unspoken question.

'It's been three days. The wounds have turned to fresh scars thankfully. But..' She hesitates, glancing over at the two men. The Admiral puts up his hand, sighing.

'They don't look right. It's like they're...well they're stronger than most scars. They're more like..' He similarly falters, the Huntsman seemingly glaring at both of them.

'It's like you've grown bone. Weak bone at that. But bone,' he finishes the dreaded sentence. I feel my breath quicken, my eyes searching their faces. The Admiral nods solemnly. 'We're not sure if it will inhibit you from hunting. But we do suggest you take it easy over the next few months.' He flinches at my distressed gaze. I try to sit up, all of them holding out their hands worriedly. I wave off their concern, forcing myself to appear strong in their company. My "scars" burn as I twist them, their inflexibility limiting my arm movements. We settle again, my breathing quickened from the effort. Suddenly, the Admiral stands up, startling the party.

'I'll be back in a second,' he reassures us. I look around the room. My room. The housekeeper crouches in the garden, probably trying to avoid looking at my injuries. I look behind me. The bright blue eyes of my palico bores into my own. I smile weakly at him. He scrambles onto the bed, his armor forgotten. I pet his head, bringing him close to my chest. He purrs up into my palm. I smile down at him before looking back over to my company.

'What was it like?' They ask in unison, both laughing weakly afterwards. I tilt my head, thinking.

'Its name is...umm..,' they frown at me as I struggle to sign its name. The Handler digs into her pack for a second, grabbing out a piece of paper and dipping pen. I put it into the pot of ink and begin to write Xeno'jiva. They follow my hand movement with wide eyes.

'Xeno'jiva? How do you know that?' I nod to her question.

'It could talk to me. In my head. "It said..' I point to the paper. 'Remember my name–"' I cut myself short. They look at each other. 'Please believe me. It called us fools.' I pout, remembering it's many insults.

'We believe you. We've just never heard of an elder dragon talking to a human,' the Handler shrugs, placing her hand on mine. I twist my hand, holding onto hers, breathing slowly through the persistent burning of my back. Suddenly a blade of white hot pain travels down my spine. I clench onto her hand, digging my nails of my free hand into my knee. As the pain leaves I open my eyes to red. I leap back, not noticing the answering pain. The Handler holds her hand, blood dripping onto the satin. I look down at my hands. Blue tipped claws protrude from each finger, all coated in human blood. I glance up at both of them, my own distressed gaze meeting theirs.

'It's...okay.' The Huntsman says calmingly, handing a healing potion to the Handler who accepts it graciously. He lifts up his helmet, his weathered face showing worry. He gestures to me, like beckoning a wild grimalkyne. I hesitantly show him my hands. He takes them, the armor a guard from the claws. He turns them over, bringing them close to his face. 'I have...no idea how to explain this..' He frowns, sighing.