Within the Bone

I. A Kindness

Mara knew she was being watched. It was more felt than witnessed, a definite sensation of animal eyes on her. There were plenty of dangers in these woods, great wolves and bears or even the occasional mountain lion. Any might eat a lone person, if given the opportunity. She gripped her bow more tightly and tried not to think of how little protection it would offer against such a beast. She was a fine huntress, but one didn't bring down such beasts without spears and a group of many.

She had no such hunting party and never would. Mara was accustomed to solitude. Even in Sjaligr, she spent her time alone even when surrounded by people.

After the life she had lived, Mara was a study in hardness, the only thing that would save her from a beast. She wasn't tall among her people, but her curves were lean and athletic from the development of muscle rather than cultivation of a marriageable self, no benefit from her father's wealth in sight. Scars covered her body, most minor, but a deep scoring along her ribs was a reminder of a time someone had come very close to rectifying the mistake of nature. A leg broken and set imperfectly robbed her gait of grace, not that the crookedness of her spine from snapped vertebrae agonizingly mended by time did her any favors. All such imperfections were reminders of what set her apart.

She moved like a warrior all the same and rued that she didn't have a blade beyond a knife, nor her spear. She had twenty years of life under her belt and at least thirteen of those included combat training. A struggle with some giant beast would just be another flareup of a chronic war.

Mara already had her bowstring drawn, moving with steps soft on the grass and leaves underfoot. She tried to catch any hint of the creature, but there was only the feeling of its gaze, piercing and probably hungry. She wanted to sigh. It had already cost her the buck she'd been trailing for miles and the ache in her stomach was enough to threaten her with return to Sjaligr.

She would have much preferred to sleep hungry in the woods, but she'd already done so for several days now and winter's chill was slowly creeping into the Red Mountains. Over three days of that was reckless.

The feeling of the predator's eyes vanished. Mara wasn't certain that the beast was departing the area, but its gaze had at least changed targets. She stayed as she was for a long moment, body relaxed but ready. It was hard when the bruising on her face ached again. Not as fiercely as when it was fresh, several days ago, but the reminder made the old anger flare. Mercifully, she couldn't see her reflection, where the marks could mock her with their slowly fading colors.

Mara frowned at the thought, lips forming a tight line at the mental image. She relaxed the string of her bow carefully and checked her surroundings. There was no sign of a colossal predator, or really any animal at all except the few chirping finches who moved again in the branches above her. Their return was an indicator that the danger in the area was at least not focused on her vicinity.

Mara sighed and put a hand on her side, willing her aching ribs to stop their complaining. They refused. The extra dose of pain made exertion very unpleasant. No doubt the blotches of bruising across her face were unflattering, but fortunately she only had herself for company. With three days since their application, she was turning interesting colors. It was not something she wanted to explain to her mother, hence the unplanned hunting trip.

With empty hands, however, she would have to return. Besides, she was dangerously close to wildling country now, deep in the wildest part of the Red Mountains. The peoples who made their homes high among the dark pines were hardly good to strangers: most of Mara's people who entered any area beyond this point never returned.

It was one of the attractive features of the area. Mara knew she would be alone every time she ventured this deep, where even the bravest warriors of her people feared to tread. She found the solitude and danger more agreeable than sitting at home, perhaps even safer. Nothing terrible had happened here.