The Siberian Wilderness

[Richard G. Hale]

Richard sat, perched on a small log by his equally small fire, and enjoyed the crackling of the old embers in the pit in front of him. He raised the remains of an old Dove he had encountered to his maw, and gently sucked the marrow from the tiny hollow bones, and placed it into the embers of his fire when he finished. He removed a small plastic container from a satchel between his legs, and placed the Dove's breast inside it, taking care to not knock over the small pot of water next to it. Richard had come across many hungry people in his time, and spare food wasn't something to be thrown away into a fire. He carefully packed the container away with the rest of the empty ones, and picked his Webley up when he finished. Richard turns the stocky revolver over in his hands, admiring the way it gleams in the flickering light. Richard opens the action of the stocky revolver to make sure it's loaded with all six cartridges, and then flips it back up into a locked position, ready to fire. He places the old revolver back on his leg. Richard sighs to himself as he adjusts a strip of the bandage covering his head with a gloved hand, keeping it from starting a chain reaction of unraveling bandage that would be a relatively humorous hassle to deal with later.

[Rennia Trayvold]

The daemoness tugged at her white parka as she stood in a clearing. Her red eyes traced the frozen landscape of Russia's Siberia. Rennia was slightly amused that her work was bringing her back here...yet again. This time, instead of a city in the more populated sections of that large nation, she found herself in the middle of the frozen north.

It wasn't something she was entirely unused to of course, and it was nowhere near as bad as Antarctica had been. On the other hand, Rennia was also nowhere near as sensitive to the cold as most people were. She doubted she even needed the parka, but it was more for camouflage than to keep heat in.

Rennia's eyes stopped when she spotted an orange dot some distance away. As her cursory glance turned into a focused one, the details shifted into clarity. She could see there was a being of some sort sat next to a fire on a small log.

The fiendling watched the other being for a moment before she rolled her wrists, making sure those twin blades would be easily accessible if she needed them. A quick roll of her shoulders following that, made sure that her rifle and the hidden longbow were both snug against her back as she made her way over towards the being. She kept her pace as brisk as she could, while trying to remain out of sight. That left her with perhaps a pace just slightly above normal walking if that. She also kept herself hunkered down low, and made sure to skirt well outside the light thrown by the fire to help ensure that she was not discovered until she was right up next to the other being.

If she managed it, the being might find her walking up only a few feet from them. There she would stand, hood covering most of her face, and gaze down upon the other creature with a tilt of her head. Finally after a moment she'd speak up. "Odd place to hang around...."

[Richard G. Hale]

Richard had begun to read through the few remaining pages left in his book as the fire started to die down. A comfort, and a friend in the otherwise lonely and desolate tundra that he traveled through. Of course, it was also a distraction.

Richard placed his right hand lightly on the Webley he still had resting on his leg as the voice behind him spoke up. "Odd place to be, huh?" Richard thought to himself as he debated with himself on how to reply, or even to reply at all.

Richard angled his head ever so slightly, the fire before him flickering and casting a brief ray of light over the bandages under his old hat. He turns his head back to his book, and replies "Odd place for a hunter to be wandering alone." as he flips to the next page in his book.

Richard made a mental note to himself of the location of his own knife, which was resting on a stone by the fire. It was an easy enough place to reach in a hurry, and the pot of water next to it made for another useful weapon in a pinch.

Rich nodded to the ground a short ways away from the fire, where another small log rested on the frozen tundra. He extended the invitation silently, and continued to read his book.

[Rennia Trayvold]

"Hunter?" The daemoness mused for a moment then offered a faint shrug. "I suppose that could be considered accurate if one used the technical term. Though is it an odd place to find a hunter? It's remote, few locals pass through. The animals that call the artics their home should indeed find this place very welcoming. It seems to me like a great place to hunt game."

The woman's eyes trailed over to where the man had nodded towards, and she gave a few slow nods of her own before she wandered over in that direction slowly. She wouldn't create trouble as she passed by him, though was mindful to watch the man out of the corner of her eye, in case he tried to shoot her foot. Then she'd turn about and hunker down in one graceful movement, sitting her posterior onto the log the other had nodded to.

"Then again I suppose that would be counter to my statement then wouldn't it? You yourself could be a hunter and we could have both just picked the same spot. Coincidental but not improbable." After her last statement she would go quiet, choosing simply to watch the other being instead, though she was careful not to stare. Inwardly the daemoness chuckled. For as antisocial as she was at times, she did seem to have a habit of striking up conversations with the random sort she ran into. Granted that part of that was deflection. It was an attempt to blend in and not seem like the entirely creepy stalker she technically was in all actuality. Technically. The other bit was fascination. This man had chosen the oddest of places to make a meal for himself and he certainly didn't strike her as a native local to the area. 'So why is he out in the middle of the tundra?' she wondered.

[Richard G. Hale]

Richard listened to the woman talk, and kept his hand over his old revolver as she wandered over to the log he had pointed out. She sure did take her time. "Probably as paranoid about me as I am of her." He thought with a small smile under the bandages covering his face.

He continued to flip through the pages of his book for a time, before starting to speak again. "You carry no game, and from the way you speak I doubt you have a camp set up at another location. Have you come out recently?"

Richard began his own wondering at the odd situation. He had purposely come out to the frozen fields and woods of the area to avoid a nearby settlement by at least five miles. And yet here she is, sitting on a log, less than ten feet away from me. Did she follow me? Has she been following me? She speaks English too well to be local, why is she here?

Richard looked over his book at the fire as it slowly crackled and popped with energy and heat. He enjoyed what warmth he could gleam through the bandages and thick clothing he wore. The heat wasn't needed to keep his body running, but it was still enjoyable.

[Rennia Trayvold]

"Некоторые игра немного слишком большими, чтобы взять с собой между охоту. Обычно мне нужно спрятать его подальше, пока я не могу вернуться к нему позже. (Some of the game is a little too big to take between hunting. Usually I have to hide it away until I can return to it later.)" The daemoness's Russian wasn't perfect but it was pretty damn passable and even a native would second guess whether she was a long term resident of the country or not. Unless he made it known whether he spoke Russian or not, the daaemoness would offer no explanation as to what she had said, figuring if he knew it he knew it, if he didn't he should speak up.

Like a switch she switched from that Russian language back to English with a chuckle. "However yes, you're correct in that I don't have any game on me nor a camp set up. I had been on my way to a place I could rest when I came across this little site. Also that would depend on your definition of recently. If I had to judge by the lighting...five... six hours? So recently could be considered correct from a certain point of view..."

"Then again, hunting was never the sport suited for the impatient. Even when your prey is in sight and within your reach, it isn't necessarily the best time to move in for the kill. I have on times stalked mine for weeks even...waiting...."

[Richard G. Hale]

"Interesting." went through his mind as the nearby woman swapped languages, his own mind switching gears just as fast as she switched from English to Russian and then back again. Richard was glad as he thought about it, that he had invested the short time to pick up a few extra languages.

The man listened as he silently read through his book, occasionally flipping to the next page after a brief period of time. He waited for a few minutes before speaking up again. "What are you hunting, exactly? The most recent wild Elephants in Siberia have gone extinct, I believe, and Bears do not typically venture this close to civilization."

Shortly thereafter the man snaps his book closed, and places it into a small pack resting against the log beneath him. as his hand retracts the fire exposes a small plastic container, holding what looks like a small handful of dark meat inside. He considers the container for a moment, and then offers it to the woman with a long, leather-clad arm. "Hungry?"

[Rennia Trayvold]

"What am I hunting?" The daemoness mused aloud. It wasn't that sort of accidental blurt out loud sort of muse, more as the reaffirmation of the question sort of muse. At length she slowly nodded as she decided on a reply. "That is an interesting question. I suppose you could say I'm hunting a monster of a sorts. At least that is what people have labeled it as. It has certainly struck terror into the hearts of some." The woman did like to balance her words on technicalities, as she was doing now. Monster was definitely a term she was using loosely but one didn't need to vocalize that point to just about everyone.

"I can't say I'm too much into big game really. Elephants.. bears. Not into that sort of meat, I don't hunt Ivory or care for elephant... and I can't say I need a decent rug or Elephant leather jacket. So I stick to smaller things or things hunted for other reasons. I'm not too much of a trophy taker... but sometimes it comes in handy."

As the man offered her a meal she politely held her hand up in refusal. "You're generous, but I doubt I'll be needing a meal any time soon. Besides... It's harder to mask my scent again after I've eaten something like that. You'd be surprised on what a good nose can pick up. In fact..." The fiendish woman gazed around in every which direction. "If I didn't know better.... I would dare say that the nearby wildlife has picked up already... Probably the fire." Rennia would give a smile that might, if thought about, give off the faint implication that she wasn't really talking about the fire. On the other hand, she'd never quite say it aloud as it was merely an unproven theory or hunch that made her suspect that something wasn't quite....right.

[Richard G. Hale]

A monster. That's what she had described her prey as. Something didn't sit quite right with Richard as he thought about it. He had seen too many people labeled as monsters to let it rest peacefully, but he would drop it for now. He didn't need the trouble, and he trusted that it would balance it's self in the end.

The man continued to think over her words as the time passed, even as she started to talk again. He inwardly laughed that she didn't pick up on his jest about hunting Mammoths, letting another small smile and a brief, amused grunt escape from his mouth.

Richard shrugged and replaced the small tub back into his pack. The woman was definitely Not a local, he had never seen one refuse any form of food he offered. "Curious..." he thought as he looked over the dying fire, now down to just smoldering embers in it's pit.

The woman's next few words were what troubled Richard the most, for he wasn't one to let an implication to himself pass over his head. It Was strange though, he had to agree with her. He hadn't noticed many animals along his way through the area himself, and it was only through luck that he had managed to find the Dove that he enjoyed a short period earlier.

Still, he imagined that he would need to make a choice soon, and avoiding a confrontation with this 'Hunter' was one of the first on his rather short list of priorities at the moment. Richard let his eyes glance over his possessions around the camp, checking and making sure that each object was within easy reach. Granted all the items he had were in his pack, save his knife and the pot which rested by the fire, his Webley which rested on his leg, and the clothes on his back.

"Perhaps. It has been quiet recently, and I've come across little in the way of animals recently myself." The man eventually responded, expressing his own concern.

[Rennia Trayvold]

The predator in the daemon picked up on the shift fairly quickly. Those eyes flashed faintly for a brief instant before she leaned forward just enough to rest her head against the hand she had brought up. The elbow then propped itself against her knee and she let her gaze wander over the other being.

"Their absence isn't a natural one. Animals tend to pick up on things long before humans... and other more 'intelligent' species do. They sense the changes be them natural or otherwise. It's not uncommon to see them fleeing a forest at the very start of a forest fire or severe storm. Fish move themselves deep underwater as well. Small things that often go unnoticed by most people. To the observant however, it's quite an alarming sight. It means danger is nearby...."

Rennia realized that at times she had that very same effect on animal life. There were times when her presence sent animals fleeing in all directions for miles. Often times it was when she let that 'air' about her roam freely. It was that sense of unease that could strike fear in all but the sturdiest of individuals. Thankfully this was one of those times she kept it reigned in. FOr now she projected no ill will towards the individual, merely keeping her guard up in case he were to lash out first. Of course this had the potential to cause enough tension in the air to create a false start... or rather a burst of violence where otherwise there would have been none, but Rennia wasn't going to be taken by surprise....

"Still. It is I suppose an interesting reprieve to find an individual way out here. It had started to get dull and I hadn't seen any sign of my quarry. However i am not surprised. I am far from the first to be following the trail and after so many attempts a creature does begin to get flighty... even in regards to it's own shadow."

[Richard G. Hale]

She was watching him. Richard could feel the odd woman's eyes wandering over himself as he kept his own focused on the fire in front of him. He was starting to get a very uneasy feeling about this entire situation, and his own paranoia was starting to make him awfully jumpy.

"Something must have happened in the town near here, or perhaps a blizzard is rolling in soon. I saw some clouds on the horizon as I was traveling earlier." His uneasiness was starting to show, though his voice remained even. Richard silently cursed himself for speaking at all, it would take a miracle to disguise the hopeful justification that his words flowed around.

"Hadn't" rang through his head as the woman continued to speak. Richard's own paranoia was starting to get the better of him. His mind started to wander over where he had been throughout the past few years, running anything that he might have done to expose himself through his head several times each before moving on to the next occasion. He counted out his recent camps in each area mentally. He rakes through his memories of France and his slow move to Russia, which he did mostly through the wilds and uninhabited plains.

"I would assume so. If one does not learn from the mistakes of others, they are doomed to follow their fates. Or so I'm told." Richard says idly in response to the woman's latest statement, and follows it with a question. "How long have you been tracking this. 'Monster' then? You sound like it has been a long time."

[Rennia Trayvold]

The daemoness watched the other being carefully. The more she talked the more uneasy he became. It was a self-perpetuating cycle she had seen time and time again. He was afraid.... but of what....?

She refrained from chuckling as she heard his attempt to justify the stillness of the area. "Yes. I'm sure that it's something like that...." Her words carried just the faintest touch of skepticism as she turned her gaze towards the aging fire. Even in the dim light her eyes glimmered like stars from the light, hiding their unnatural red hue. "Whatever it is... It has certainly put the locals on edge."

Her next words came out slower, more intentional as she replied to his next few comments and that question. "Yes, well I'll be sure to learn from where they failed, though I somehow think I stand a better chance than them. Most of them were your run of the mill, trigger happy, hired guns. Subtlety is generally not within their vocabulary... and when it is. Well the idea 'howdy stranger' comes to my mind. Let's just say I'm a bit better at Mmmmm not exposing myself till I'm ready. "

A pause came before she answered the question as she considered the answer to it within her mind. "Days... weeks....? I tend to lose track of time when I'm on the hunt. I do try to keep it short, but efficiency over expediency. Rushing into things tends to make a mess. I don't like having to clean up huge messes and I don't want others to have to do the same. However, what's a few weeks or months on a hunt?" The daemoness shrugged at her own question before continuing. "This particular monster has proven itself a pain to track. It's not particularly territorial and it's moved quite a long way from where it was last reported. Indeed I think I've tracked it through quite a few countries, and at pace. The thing can move incredibly fast when startled, and has learned quite a good deal about hiding itself within the terrain."

The daemoness trailed off, keeping her gaze within the fire for a moment. She was fairly sure her words did nothing to ease the man's growing anxiety, but then again... where would the fun in that be?

[Richard G. Hale]

The man reached to grab his knife from the dim embers as the woman spoke. He looked it over carefully in the dying light, wiped it on his pants, and then slid it into it's sheath in his jacket.

He turned his head skyward to the black sky as he listened, noting the passing of a few wispy tendrils of vapor high in the atmosphere, and following a particularly large Cumulus that was about to pass over the moon.

After a while he speaks up again, and says "It sounds like you are trying to track a traveler that does not wish to be found. Perhaps even a hermit. What have they done, that you consider so horrible? What has it done, to make itself a monster?"

His resolve steeled, and most of his items now stowed, Richard prepared his mind to make a move if his paranoia proved true. His own mind wanders as he waits for the woman's answer, and he thinks back to the last time he fled somewhere to escape. It had been in Britain, he remembered, he ran to escape from the shadows that he had started to cast in the bombed-out neighborhood he had taken up a residence within. He had been running from that place for too long, he decided.

The man's head dropped down to look at the woman as he waits. the lifeless gray eyes submerged beneath the bandages stare straight forward, and the brim of his old hat casts a distorting shadow over his features.

[Rennia Trayvold]

The flash of his knife caught the eye of the woman who's fingers shifted slowly, but she made no move to actually grab at the two hidden blades she carried with her. Then the question came. It brought about a chuckle from the woman seated across from him as well as the shake of her head.

"Truly you jest sir?" The question was rhetorical at best. It even almost came out as more of a statement than an actual question, but in either case she gave him no chance to reply before continuing on to an explanation. "Let us assume for the moment that I was referring to a person... this hermit. In that case I would point out that sentient species are perhaps the most monstrous of any creature to inhabit this planet. People are dominated by what they call sentience. It's a mix of Logic and emotion. Logic is cold and calculating. It doesn't care about morals. It doesn't weep for the loss of life even that of a pregnant mother. It simply is a function of true or false. Does this path present the most probable route to goal? Yes or no. If yes, proceed at all cost."

"Emotion. Perhaps the worst thing you could ever mix with logic. People are at their very core self-centered. It doesn't matter if you're a sinner or a saint. Everyone acts according to their own best interest, be it killing off a threat or saving the life of a complete stranger at the risk of your own. People do what makes them happy. So when you take into consideration that a good portion of humanity is not constrained by the more 'refined' morals of well faring society, you've got selfish bastards who apply logic to their actions. Thus you get some horrendous results. People who will lie, cheat and scam their way to what they want, or even murder."

"So you want to tell me there's such a thing as an innocent hermit." The woman stopped to chuckle. "Well then I would just ask how such a naive person such as you has made it through society for as long as you have." At length the woman held up a solitary finger. "However, don't misunderstand me. I am not condemning all of civilization to irredeemable death. Not everyone has to die for their behavior. Plus it would make me remarkably hypocritical. All I am saying is that to present people as free of their monstrous inner desires... That would be entirely negligent."

Content with her answer, the woman went back to staring at the fire, keeping the man in the corner of her sight. She could already feel that he was nervous. Her words did nothing to settle his discomfort. Inwardly Rennia wondered if he feared she was after him. It would be yet another of quite a few individuals recently who have seemed to fear she was after them. Did she truly give off that much of a vibe? It also raised another pair of questions in her mind.... Why did he think she was hunting him? What had he done?

[Richard G. Hale]

The man silently listens once more as she speaks, now certain that she was hiding her mark for a purpose. The insatiable paranoia residing in himself quieted for the moment, replaced by a subtle, but strong curiosity.

He leans forward ever so slightly as he speaks up. "Perhaps I am naive, but I am wise enough to see that you have not yet answered my question."

Richard keeps a hand covering his old Webley as he speaks once more. "What have they done?" A sense of curiosity, and morbid fascination follow his soft spoken words as they leave his mouth.

The thought did not leave the man as he re-stated his question, and he looked back to his own actions in the past. The sneaking, the feeding, the bodies that he had left behind in the crumbling buildings and streets of Britain during the bombing. He shivered with the thought as a breeze rolled in from the mountains.