#predebut huntrix

They found her by the tree. Her back up against the rough bark of the ancient trunk. Her cream colored sweatpants stained by the dirt. She didn’t care. The wind blew cold and bitter against her cheeks. Her unbraided hair draped down her back. Mira settled in on her left and Zoey her right. She didn’t acknowledge them. Rumi just stared off in the direction of her mother’s grave. 

Celine had paid her respects hours ago, while Rumi waited. She had long since left to go spend the rest of the day in town. Rumi still waited.

Every year it was the same.

Two warm hands found their way into Rumi’s cold ones. 

That had never happened before.

It was like Rumi wasn’t even in charge of her own body. Mira and Zoey pulled her to her feet. Her legs felt numb for how long she had been sitting.

“Did you want to go to her grave?” Zoey asked softly.

Did she want to? Yes. Did she deserve to? No. 

Rumi nodded. 

Zoey and Mira walked with Rumi to her mother’s grave. Rumi holding the little box with the foods that Celine had told her that her mother loved and a couple of half melted candles. Rumi knelt down first, the other two followed. Rumi noted the food and candles left over from Celine’s time at the grave that morning before setting down her own box.

She bowed, her forehead kissing the ground. Her eyes stung but she didn’t let the tears fall. She felt a firm hand on her back. She arose. Zoey handed her a candle and a match while Mira started setting out the dishes. With shaking hands Rumi struck the match against the side of the match box and lit the candle. A hot tear slipped down her cheek.

Rumi started to sing.

“We are hunters, voices strong.”

She didn’t feel strong.

“Slaying demons with our song.”

Would her mother have slain her? She had always wondered…

“Fix the world and make it right.”

She was trying. Oh, how she was trying.

“When darkness finally meets the light.”

Two hands found her own once again. The candle flickered in the cold breeze. Rumi shivered despite her hoodie. 

Mira and Zoey were steadfast and patient as Rumi paid her respects. They knew this was something that they didn’t quite understand. There was a raw and quiet grief that hung around Rumi like a shroud. The honmoon’s song was low and mournful, but not overbearingly so. It thrummed against the bottom of their hearts and beat against the edge of their souls.

Zoey rubbed soft circles on the back of Rumi’s hand with her thumb. Mira gave gentle squeezes when she felt Rumi tense up. Neither girl knew what was going through Rumi’s mind, but they were there for her anyway. 

Eventually a light drizzle started to rain down on the three young hunters. Mira was the first to move. Her hand never leaving Rumi’s as she stood up and gently pulled Rumi to her feet. Zoey followed. 

The hanok was warm when they entered. Rumi allowed herself to bask in it as the feeling returned to her lips and toes. It really was unusually cold for September. 

Rumi wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Normally she didn’t return to the warmth and safety hanok until late. If Mira and Zoey hadn’t dragged her back here she would still be at the grave despite the decline in weather. A tiny part of her was glad that she wasn’t out in the cold. She squashed that part down. She was tired of fighting. 

“Do you want to talk about her?” Zoey offered. 

“There’s not much to talk about. I never knew her.”

“Then what do you want to do?” Mira’s voice was filled with love and care. They were being gentle, so gentle with her. Maybe on a normal day Rumi would take offense to once again being treated like something breakable, but she just couldn’t find it in herself to do so today. 

What did she want to do?

They waited for her answer. Warm hands never leaving her shoulders, warm gazes never leaving her face. Their warmth penetrated past the layers, past the walls and into Rumi’s heart.