#the hunter

But perhaps her request was presented too literally, for when Eileen’s eyelids fluttered open again sometime later, the Hunter was still there. She had moved, yes, but only to sit down nearby upon one of the marbled steps of the cathedral. It appeared that she had been diligently waiting alongside Eileen for the entire time she rested, seemingly to protect her from anything or anyone that may have tried to harm her while she was in such a vulnerable state.

Eileen attempted to sit up, grunting in pain as her body protested. The Hunter lifted her head, switching instantly from a watchful statue into an alert guard dog as she rose to her feet and approached. She raised her hands, hovering nearby but not actually reaching out, which Eileen understood to be a silent offer to provide assistance if it should be requested. But *only* if requested, as she made no attempts beyond this to get closer. Honoring some unspoken rule, knowing better than to touch before she was given permission. A rule born out of necessity, perhaps, given the horrific and violent nature of her and Eileen’s shared work…or, was it simply a sign of respect?

Eileen exhaled a humorless laugh, eyeing the Hunter wearily. “…don’t you ever listen to your elders?” she asked. No response, as usual, although the Hunter did seem to interpret this weak display of humor as proof that Eileen was no longer in any immediate danger. She lowered her hands again as Eileen continued, “…really now. You were meant to be gone by now. You should be making yourself useful elsewhere, chopping down some beasts…”

And then Eileen raised a brow, a genuine inquiry cutting through the tired sarcasm. “…so why aren’t you?” she asked. “Why do you insist upon staying? Surely you have better things to do than babysit an old woman while she recovers from her own foolish blunder…” There was a heavy silence that followed, the words lingering in the air between them. The Hunter remained quiet, as unreadable as ever with neither a voice nor a face for Eileen to witness. But even then, something about the way she tilted her head ever so slightly made Eileen think that she was indeed pondering the question. As though even she were uncertain about what the answer was.

And then finally the Hunter moved, kneeling down on one of the cathedral steps. She reached up slowly, and for the first time since the nightmare began, she removed her helm.

Eileen fell silent for a few long moments. Then she smiled, chuckling softly, although her eyes were swelling with tears.

“Ah…I see.

You are…just a child.”

The woman — no, the *girl* — who knelt before her could not have seen a day on this earth over 20 years. Though her skin was scarred and bloodied and her eyes were blown wide from the rush of the hunt, there was a softness around her face that immediately betrayed her youth. A certain innocence in her gaze that simply could not be falsified. Eileen felt a tear rolling down her cheek, hot and clean, striking a path through the dark blood that encrusted her face.

She laughed again, sadly. This poor girl, caught up in such a wretched nightmare. Summoned by the cruel hand of fate to atone for ancient sins that neither she nor her bloodline were guilty of committing. This curse was never intended to fall upon her shoulders, and yet still she had come and beared its unforgiving weight in silence. Still she had tried, she had tried so very hard, and gone so far out of her way to help a foolish old woman who she did not know. Who was nothing more than another stranger in a foreign land, and to whom she owed no responsibility nor obligation…

At the sight of her tears the Hunter appeared alarmed. Though she had never spoken so much as a single word, now that Eileen could see the girl’s eyes she could much more clearly read her expressions. And her concern was as undeniable as it was painfully sincere.

“Ah, now now, it’s all right…” Eileen assured. But then she paused, noticing that the Hunter’s eyes had begun to fill with tears as well. As one fell her hand flew to her face in shock, not seeming to recognize the sensation. Probably assuming it was blood, the girl looked confused as she pulled back her hand and did not see any red in the wetness that clung to her fingertips.

“…don’t you worry about that,” Eileen whispered. The Hunter looked back up at her again, frowning. “Tears are nothing to be ashamed of. Our grief, it keeps us human.