BLOOD AND NEEDLES

Nyx reached their prearranged meeting point first.
She braced herself against the low stone wall, desperately listening for footsteps beneath the rush of the volcanically heated river. Blood had dried along her temple. Some of it hers.  Her knife remained in her hand.
Across the river, the Elsewhere Oak stood among its many amber lanterns, half hidden by fog. All around her, Embermist Hollow remained quiet. Nothing they had fought had reached the houses.
But Tamotsu had not come back.
Then she heard his staff strike the path.
He emerged from the fog with his robe torn at the shoulder and one arm held close to his body. He stopped when he saw her.
For a moment, neither moved.
She searched his eyes and found the fear he had carried through the forest. His gaze travelled over the blood on her face, the blade in her hand, the way she guarded her side. Only then did he meet her eyes.
     “Zarnyxa.”
She dropped her knife on the bench.
As he approached, fur receded from his cheeks. His ears shrank.  His muzzle softened into a human likeness: in its place a lean face, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw beneath dark hair streaked with silver at the temples. Fine lines gathered at the corners of his amber eyes. His mouth trembled slightly when he saw her.
Nyx knew this face. No one else knew he could wear it.  
Tears welled in her eyes. She lowered her head and brushed them away, pretending to wipe the damp from her cheek.
Tamotsu stopped within reach.
She looked up, trying for a smile. Another tear escaped.
He lifted his hand, then waited.
Nyx caught it and pressed his palm against her cheek.
     “I’m here,” he said.
She nodded, but her breath caught. His own eyes shone.
     “Oh, don’t,” she whispered, her attempted laugh breaking.
He opened his arms.
She stepped into them and held on.
Her fingers closed fiercely around his robe. His hand settled at the back of her head, and for several breaths neither could speak.
     “I couldn’t find you.”
     “I know.”
     “I went back.”
His arm tightened around her.
     “So did I.”
They held each other too tightly at first. Then she felt him wince and shift beneath his good arm; he eased his hand away from her injured side. Neither loosened their hold more than necessary.
     “Don’t go anywhere yet,” she demanded.
He rested his cheek against her hair.
For a while, he did not.
________________________________________
They sat beneath the lamp, weapons within reach.
Nyx loosened the cloth around his shoulder. Tamotsu caught her wrist when he saw the blood soaking through her own coat.
     “You first.”
She shook her head.
     “Let me.”
He looked at her, then released her wrist.
She folded back his torn sleeve. From a small case inside her coat, she took a needle and thread.
Tamotsu watched her hands.
He had seen those fingers guide a blade into precisely the place that would end a life. They knew the body with a surgeon’s certainty; now they closed his wound with the same sure precision.
She worked quickly beneath the lamp. Whenever his breath caught, her free hand rested against his arm until he was ready.
     “You can look away,” she murmured.
     “I’m not looking at the wound.”
Her hands paused.
Then she lowered her face to her work, hiding the tears gathering again. She wiped one against her sleeve before it could fall.
His good hand settled lightly against her knee.
They had done this beside campfires, on borrowed floors, in dank tombs, and in countless rooms where neither trusted what lay beyond the door. He held the loose cloth before she reached for it. She knew when to stop without asking.
Yet tonight, after the last stitch, she remained bent over his arm.  Tonight felt different.  She was scared.  Truly scared for the first time since…
Tamotsu touched the back of her neck.
Nyx closed her eyes briefly. Then she covered the wound and bound it securely. Her fingers lingered over the knot, and he reached up to hold them there.
Then he turned toward her wounds.
She had watched his hands smash through faces, break weapons, and strike men to the ground dead. Now one gently supported her injured arm while the other eased the blood-soaked fabric away from her skin.
He cleaned the cut beneath her ribs and wrapped the bandage carefully. When it pulled too tightly, he felt her tense and loosened it before she spoke.
She lifted her arm before he asked. He placed his hand where she could lean against it.
At the final knot, his fingers trembled.
Nyx covered his hand with hers.
Neither spoke until the trembling passed. Then he finished the binding, and she left her hand resting over his.
________________________________________
Nyx spread her cloak across their knees as they sat on the bench embracing.
Tamotsu tucked its edge around her shoulder. She pulled enough back to cover him too.
Several pine needles remained caught in his hair. She removed them one by one, laying them on the bench.
     “Better than the cabbage,” she teased.
His mouth curved.
     “We agreed never to discuss that.”
     “We agreed you would never cook again.”
     “You remember that agreement remarkably well.”
     “I suffered considerably.”
He laughed softly, then winced. Her hand went to his bandage.
     “Still holding,” he assured her.
She checked anyway.
Afterward, she settled against his uninjured shoulder.
     “Waterdeep,” he countered.
     “I stole your pack so you would chase after me.”
     “I did.”
     “And you caught me.”
He looked down at their joined hands.
     “Yes.”
That was all the story either needed.
Below them, the hot river broke around a dark stone.
     “I hope Mittens is safe,” Tamotsu sighed.
Nyx turned toward him.
     “The young ones will be setting out soon,” Nyx said.
     “I know. I wish I could go.”
They both glanced toward the forest knowing why that wasn’t possible.
Whatever had come through it tonight had wanted to enter into the village. They had driven them back, but neither believed it was finished.
Nyx tightened her hold on his hand.
     “They’ll look for her. We’ll make certain she has a home to return to.”
Tamotsu bowed his head. She stayed beside him without asking him to speak.
After a while, he brushed a damp strand of hair clear of her face. Nyx caught his hand and rested it against her cheek.  
     “You are such a gentle soul.”
     “You know I don’t have one.”
     “You never needed one, but still.”
She held his gaze, her thumb resting across his knuckles. Then he leaned forward until his forehead touched hers.
For a few moments, they remained beneath the lamp. His breathing steadied. Nyx’s fingers rested against his wrist.
     “You’re counting,” he murmured.
     “Checking.”
     “I’m here.”
     “I know.”
She did not stop.
In the warm amber glow of the nearby lantern and the chill of the damp early morning fog, the Kitsune and the Tiefling found fleeting comfort once again in each other’s embrace.  
________________________________________
Across the river, one lantern on the Elsewhere Oak unexpectedly turned violet.  Its newborn amethyst glow reaching through the fog.
Both straightened.
     “The same light?” Nyx asked.
Tamotsu stared across the water.
     “The night I found her.”
His breath caught.
     “She’s alive.”
Nyx gripped his hand.
     “Are you certain?”
     “Yes.”
Relief passed through him so fiercely that his shoulders shook once.
Then his attention suddenly shifted toward the empty path behind them.
His lips drew back.
     “You.”
The word came in a low snarl.
Nyx reached for her knife. She saw nothing. Heard nothing answer.
Tamotsu rose with his staff.
     “No. You do not get to offer my daughter back to me.”
His voice roughened. His grip tightened until the wood creaked.
     “Knowing where she is, does not make her yours. Speak of her as a possession again, and you will answer to me.”
Fur returned along his cheeks. His vulpine features suddenly replacing his human form.  His ears lifted toward something Nyx could not hear.
Pressure gathered behind her eyes.
Mittens home. Bryn alive. The Hollow safe.  
The wishes came with a dreadful certainty, followed by memories opening without her consent. Something searched through private grief, through words spoken in confidence, through moments that belonged only to the two of them.
Nyx folded forward in a silent scream.
Tamotsu caught her.
     “Listen to the river.”
She gripped his sleeve.
Water over rocks. His hand around hers.
     “Here,” he urged.
Blood ran from her nose.
He saw it.
     “Get out of her mind!”
Thunder cracked throughout the valley to underscore his demand. Blue light arcing from the fist clutching his quarterstaff.
He turned toward the empty path, sharp canine teeth bared.
     “You come here offering wishes, then put your hands into her thoughts?”
Lightning danced across the stones beneath his feet.
     “Remove. Them. Now!”
The pressure sharpened. Nyx cried out.
Tamotsu’s roar broke across the river.
     “You will not touch her!”
He drove his staff into the ground. Lightning erupted and struck the wall in the direction he was speaking, splitting stone and sending superheated shards in all directions.
The pressure vanished.
Tamotsu held Nyx upright, his eyes fixed on the fog.
     “If you want another answer, come close enough to receive it!”
He stayed beside her until she could stand steadily. Her hand remained around his wrist.
In an imperceptible moment, Nyx recovered her knife.  The sheer rage on her face menacingly reflected in its enchanted green blade.  
He made room.
     “You will not have her. You will not have my daughter. And you will not take one more step toward this village.”
     “Try me,” he whispered as thunder rolled overhead.
A cruel knowing smile slowly drew across her face.  She caught his hand, knowing the furious tempest that was about to be unleashed.  
     “Here,” she said.  
Their promise. Somewhere to return to.
He covered her fingers.
     “Here.”
Together, they went into the dark fog and what lay ahead.
By morning, neither could be found.
A bloodstained length of cloth lay beneath the bench. On the seat where Nyx had placed them, the pine needles remained.
Across the river, a violet lantern burned steadily among the amber lights of the Elsewhere Oak.