The Hunt

[Jay Carpenter]

She made quite the show of it. Of course, his arm never waivered in the face of certain rejection while she wove back and forth. A taunting lioness dangling a tempting bait of her own. So long as she paced, he would wait and appreciate the show even if it were the last. Then he caught the hint of her expression blooming in the dark and his confidence exploded. Hers was not the sly smile of a woman ready to turn on her heel. It was only a matter of time before his hand circled her wrist. It was the taunt of a woman wanting to make him work for it. And he had no problems with that.

The only solace when she ceased her languid parade was the closing of his fingers around her palm. Narrow and warm, a woman's skin always reminded him of the ridges cutting across his own. Men laboring over numbers had callouses in their quill fingers and ink up to their knuckles. A soldier's was stamped in the thumb web with the duty of his daily practice; Jai’s were somewhere in between. Remnants of cording dug their permanent trenches in his grip and raw-red nails were scrubbed for whoever waited at the end of the day. Nythadri’s? He was anxious to explore her hand with his; to discover what left their marks at the end of her day.

Safely through, the Gate slammed on their heels. Saidin and sensation with it; slamming their visor across eyes diminished without it. The beach before teemed with life, and dramatic shades of gray-blue was now dulled by moonlight and softly lapping waves. The nuances to her soft skin were snatched away: the bumps of knuckles and hard edge of neatly trimmed nails flattened a dimension. But he did not let go. She was no porcelain doll to crunch between his fingers, though her size seemed delicate enough to not withstand a strong enough vice should one ever descend. He forgot what was lost without the Power when her warmth, supple as virgin leather, heated up his sleeve like palming at campfire.

Dramatic? He looked and found her smiling. And didn't disagree. She was soon enraptured again, this time at the balk of night's wet caress around her ankles as she had the copper flare hovering over sparkling waters. Though she did not realize such was her state. He was grazing the tender tips of her fingers when she slipped regrettably from grasp. The deft, musician's control left a memory of a tingle as he knew again her grazing skin as he had that morning when he called her on it. It fired an image of melodic grace swarming every sense as he imagined she had mastered in everything she did. It swept her forward to taste the sea. She slipped shoes second. Marching unafraid into the unknown. And he stood back to watch.

The moon caught the foam under her feet, whitening it briefly before sliding back. The seeping water pulled at the hem of her skirt, beckoning her to sink fully into its arms. He found himself breathing faster in the anticipation of how she would react to that song. Swallowed a bubble of nerves when she turned to face him. She showed greater restraint to its siren than he the first time he heard it.

It was peaceful, as she said. Though he had no need to confirm. The breeze stirred the sizzle of earlier sunlight still etched on his face and snaked fingers through his hair and under that high collar. The wool welcomed it in. Movement pleasantly disrupting the coat otherwise falling peacefully to the knee as it did the piles of sand shoved laterally from feet bounding toward the water at this same spot not long before. If he moved his toes just so he imagined the feel of sand still inside his boots. It was not unwelcome. And picking it out gave him something to pass the time during down hours in the field.

"Yes."


He nodded as much, usually with something strong to drink. No shame hinted beneath his agreeing smile. Though perhaps did not think of it as hiding, but as capturing moments. It was nice there. Perhaps better places waited on the horizon. Ones farther from Arad Doman. If so, he had yet to find them and little time to seek their solace. He liked this one.

A lazy walk joined her. Though forwards where she inched backwards; and across dry sand where her feet sank their footprints. He crossed his arms thoughtfully and studied the white lamp hanging above. Then followed its rays to where it crowned Nythadri's dark tresses vapory as water misting on rock.

He absorbed her. Not caring if she saw nor comprehended how he considered stepping closer to do more than whisper teases in her ear. His eyes roamed to her collar where a sweltering bead slid so slowly a trail only to disappear under her robes earlier that afternoon. He remembered the musician's neck leaning in when they sat on that couch, trading secrets in full view of other players. The warmth of her proximity. The scent of her hair. The curve of her shoulder.

Then the taste of her determination and concern frosted the memory. She slid from her saddle when he was thrown from his with the haste of one meaning to come to aid. He remembered finding her eyes crystallized with fear soon after. When he landed his silent accusation, she crouched away like it were gravel spitting bloody spots across her face. Frozen in horror when the sword flew into his hands. Why was she not afraid now? He would not fault her if she were.

“I would tell you I'd never harm you. Or any woman, really. But we both know that's a lie."
Nythadri knew his stance on lying. She also knew his stance on conspiracy. Enemies. Honesty; and pride. In one day she knew more about him than most years’ worth of friendships.

He clasped his hands informally behind him as they strolled. So close yet so far apart. She in water, him on earth; one studying north, the other seeking south. It was as fitting together as the sinuous symbol whipping on the Dragon Banner. So fitting, he braced for his flesh to pebble if she took it in mind reach into saidar; he would do likewise with saidin. Like letting go, she’d described it. So opposite of the way he knew to channel. Is that how the Creator intended it? Like composed harmonies?

The search could delay knowing her reaction for only so long. When next he looked, he didn’t know what to expect. Honesty, he hoped. As had been their pattern since first they met.