Woundbearer Ch1

It was the eyes that stayed with her. Of all the things, it was always the eyes.
"Does anyone know anything about it?" Yeva asked the crowd. "Anything at all? The felled fawn down in the ravine?"
The deer surrounding her had eyes as wide and round as the moon, and just as distant. Large circular eyes with dark, full pupils. They would peek through the trees, look out from behind rocks. Some would openly gawk at her while others, content with grazing, flicked back an ear and diverted their eyes.
But the crowd would always grow, and she was counting on that. Yeva shifted the weight off of her bad leg, in turn lurching forward towards the crowd. She startled the does in doing so, however, causing some to sprint away and others to gasp and retreat into thicker grasses.
"Does anyone at least know who's fawn it was? It obviously has a mother somewhere-"
The fawn in the ravine, as she remembered, was old enough that it was still possibly from his siring. It looked like it had shed its spots, although it was difficult to gauge from the remains alone.
"Please," she again pleaded, her voice course. "Someone would know who's fawn that was."
"What's all the fuss here for?"
A voice called from behind and Yeva spun slowly, favoring her right front leg. The voice had a light quality to it, reminding her of a wily songbird, and belonged to a lanky red stag. His mane was meager, and his display of tines expressing youth. He was probably only  three years of age. Less than half her years.
"Noisy hind, what's the matter?" he called again with a laugh.
Yeva narrowed her eyes.
"I don't remember you," he said. "Have you wandered in? Looking to graze here?"
She did not speak.
"I'm nothing to be afraid of," he said and chuckled. "You are quite welcome here."
He was eying her shoulder. The fur there was missing in streaks, revealing the dark scarred skin beneath. Like paper that had been pressed upon too harshly and ripped. There was still some scabbing of blood that clung in clumps.
"That looks pretty fresh," he said.
Yeva saw how his expression lit up and his chest expanded. Of course he would be eager to add her to the herd. She was wounded, and therefore inferior. An easy target. It would mean that a healthier doe would be spared.
"I'm looking for the mother of the dead fawn," said Yeva.
"Dead fawn? Don't worry yourself about it. The hinds here have plenty of healthy, happy fawns. Of course a herd will always lose one or two, but the grass here is good and-"
"I want to speak to the mother of the dead fawn."
"Noisy and nosy, I see."
"You're wasting my time," She huffed.
Yeva turned and shifted the weight onto her bad leg, trying to veil her visible disadvantage. A warm, musty breath hugged her face and she froze in place.
"Is there a problem?" a new voice bellowed.
This voice was a deep as a gully. His drooping mane looked like another animal separate from himself, skinned and draped across his neck. His antlers could carry the weight of the sky, but instead were laced with velvet. Whereas with the fist male Yeva had met at eye level, she now had to gaze up.
This was no stag. This was a hart.
"Hello there, doe," he greeted her before turning to the other buck. "Are you giving this hind some trouble now?"
"She's asking about a dead fawn," the younger male replied.
The hart raised his brow and craned his neck. He pressed his nose against the wound on Yeva's shoulder and inhaled. He exhaled heavily, pawing at the ground with a shower of dirt.
"Don't bother my does. If you want to stay here, then say nothing. Otherwise,I suggest you leave now."
"I'll leave just as soon as-"
The hart's jaws opened and a trumpeting bellow lept out. Again she was met with that same warm, musty air. Yeva's face felt unbearably hot, and at first she blamed it on his breath. She realized, however, that it was her own hot blood racing.
"Look at my does," the male's voice boomed. He stepped back and swung is neck, signalling towards the deer behind him. "Would you be so cruel?"
Yeva looked upon the many faces and felt their staring. It did not feel like needles, nor like crushing stones. Instead their glance felt like a dusting of snow. She looked then towards the stag, who's eyes were wide but his pupils small, and then at the hart with his eyes half-open. Their eyes, she noted, carried weight. The does' were weightless.
"I suggest you be on your way now, hind," the old hart said.
"Alright. Yes..."
She willed her legs to move. It was difficult to maneuver around the large male without pressuring her bad leg, and so she carried herself with a limp. The weightless staring of the does made her throat feel dry. As she passed them, she never once looked back. She knew that they were still staring. Their glance, unlike a powdery snow, could not be so easily shaken.
--

She crept along through the great standing pines, sniffing the soil as she went. Solitude had made her constantly on edge, her nostrils in a constant flare to absorb the air and decipher its smells. As a result, Yeva was also constantly exhausted. She smelled moisture on the air and licked the wind. Somewhere there was water.
Water, of course, could mean a predator as well. But the air was smooth today. Not like by the ravine, where it tasted heavily with iron. The image of the fawn persisted in her thoughts. Its soft underbelly had been cleaved in two, its creme coloring stained with a splotchy purplish red. There was damage to the legs where scavengers had started to taste, before fleeing. No doubt smelling him on the kill.
Any scavenger worth their tooth knew better than to steal from an Old One.
It was for that reason that she knew he had been through here. Or at least, she assumed it was him. The fawn had claw marks raked into its sinking skin, although it was hard to distinguish now that age had worn away at its framework. The sight of it then had made her face hot, as before, and now recalling it made her faint.
The soil began to soften under hoof as the ground became damp. She trampled through a series of puddles before choosing one from which to lap. She drank heavy mouthfuls, swallowing hard so that air bubbles forced down her throat made a loud, clunky noise. She did not want to remain still for longer than needed.
Droplets of water fled from her chin and formed ripples as they rejoined the puddle. Yeva watched, perplexed by their patterns. As the surface calmed, however, she became very aware of her own image. How unlike her eyes were from the other does.
They had round eyes of rich brown color. Their pupils consumed most of the space, and the way they looked out at the landscape was as if the tried to swallow the land whole. Yeva's eyes, on the contrary, were angular and narrow. They had a thick black lining beneath them, and contained a reddish tint. Her pupils were small, and could focus only one tree or rock at a time.
But most of all, her eyes were unbearably heavy.
Yeva grew suddenly aware of her fatigue. The coolness of the water seeped into her lungs and made her cough from the sharp pain. On all sides she felt exposed; the grass here was finely chewed so that it came no further than her hooves. The trees had high branches and afforded no veil. The rocks were all short and unstacked.
Exhaustion or not, the expanse granted Yeva no safety. She exhaled a huff and tread on to safer grounds. Now free from watching eyes, Yeva did not hide her visible limp. Trying to only forced her other leg to suffer as well. The bone that had been shattered by the tiger's paw was still mending, which made Yeva extremely vulnerable. Her gate was hindered, and faced with a predator she would have more luck fighting than to flee.
With that in mind, Yeva found a collection of stones stacked high. She wedged herself into a crevice, welcoming it despite the cool surface. Normally, a cornered deer was a panicking deer. But, after all, Yeva could outrun nothing. She felt safe to have her back guarded than exposed, especially in a fight.
She lay her head and thought again back to the felled fawn. The fleeting image came heralding a new flood of memories. So sudden had they rocked against her mind that Yeva stirred breathless, the air knocked from her lungs.
She did not want to remember.
A shifting wind brought Yeva to her wits and urged her to stand. In slumber she had not noticed the approaching of hooves, the scent of her own kind fast upon her. Her long, slender ears pricked forward, flickering side to side like radar dishes seeking reception.
The soft thud of hoof beats were hushed by the damp ground. At first her mind raced to the two stags from earlier, thinking that either the older had come to chase her off, or that the younger had come to press trouble, as young bucks often did. But she tasted no musk on the breeze, and the encroaching hoofs were far too light.
"Hello miss?" a voice called. As airy as a bird's wing.
Yeva hesitated, and then emerged. Around the rocks she was met with the visage of a young doe who could not possibly be beyond two years of age. Her fur was dark like the soil, her stance betraying the grace that young does were oft to carry. An older hind, by comparison, held herself more sturdily so as to show off her noble features.
The young doe first stiffened up, and then bowed to Yeva. A strangely sensible youth, Yeva thought. Yeva admitted that does were often far less thought-bearing creatures when compared to bucks. It was a trait trained into them young so as to form more cohesive, cooperative herds as adults. Perhaps this hind was still young enough that she retained some wit.
Yeva then noticed how the doe's eyes sloped downward. They were more narrow than the does from before and the shrunken pupils darted from place to place, taking in the landscape in pieces.
"She was mine. The fawn."
Yeva lurched forward, forgetting her bad leg. A fire lit up inside her pupils, fueled by her rapid breath. She could not spit the words off her tongue any faster fast enough.
"How did it die? What killed it? I need to know!"
The young doe, reduced to trembles, stumbled backwards. She pressed weight upon her left hind foot and then collapsed upon it, revealing her weakness. Yeva noticed how the flesh had once been stripped away from the young doe's hock, and how dark gangrene chewed away ceaselessly at the remaining bits of flesh. Death's subtle kiss.
"I-it was a, t-tiger," the doe stuttered.
"More than that! What did he look like?"
The intensity rose up in Yeva's voice, causing the doe to shrink further into the ground. It looked as if she were shrinking into her very bones, trying to become an unborn embryo.
"Tell me!" Yeva urged.
"He, he had snow fur and, and one red, and...one..."
The doe's eyes began to enlarge, shedding off their narrow view. Her jaw hung on the last words, unable to speak it even as Yeva's breathing increased.
"One red...?" Yeva asked, waiting for the doe to finish.
But the doe never finished. She did not even nod or shake her head to acknowled Yeva's words. Panic seized her throat and forced her lungs into overtime. The doe arose and bounded off, leaving Yeva alone with those hanging unfinished words.
"One red eye." Yeva said aloud, knowing it was what the doe had wanted to say.
She slammed her back hoof into the earth. Had she only been sooner she might have met with the beast that wrecked her life and plunged her into this forsaken journey. She thrashed her head back and forth, snapping at the air until she wore herself out. It was useless to carry on like that. She only expended more energy that way.
Once she caught her breath, Yeva resigned herself to grazing. The bucks had been right, the land here was fertile. She might as well eat her fill before sleeping. In the morning she would carry on. Sleeping would be easier if only she knew which direction to take. Would she follow the salty winds west, or take the dry path further south? Which path would a tiger more likely take? She tucked herself into a cropping of rocks and shut tightly her eyes.


The trumpet roar of a nearby buck ripped her out of sleep. Her head shot up and her nostrils flared, breathing in deep the musk of the approaching buck. It was the young male from before. She pawed at the grounds and pulled herself up, straining her ears to the wailing. The echo made it difficult to pinpoint which way he was coming, but finally she deciphered the source.
She was off in a bound. Yeva did not want to run unless it was dire, for doing so wasted energy and tired her out. She had a long day's travel ahead of her and it wouldn't do her good to start it off with fatigue. The morning air was crisp and the forest cast long shadows, painting the land in an eerie darkness. The sun had not yet crept over the tree tops so the sky retained a purple color.
Dew gathered on her ankles and soaked into her fur. It felt dreadfully cold, even for this time of year. She ignored the dew, more concerned with the presence of the buck. His wailing grew louder, and she knew that she was being pursued.
A terror took her and she broke into a leap. She could not stifle several broad bounds, until she realized how odd it was to flee from her own kind. Wolves and bears she would run from without second thought, but her own ilk? Yeva slowed to a canter, and then finally to a trot.
The shape of the buck broke through the morning fog. His hoof beats sounded like thunder as he barreled towards her. Yeva had not the time to react before two sharp hooves pressed against her chest, sending her tumbling. The young buck pawed at the ground where she had been and then shoved his antlers into her face.
"Stop!" Yeva shouted as a tine scraped her brow.
"You couldn't just leave well enough alone!"
Yeva scrambled back onto her feet, just missing a kick to the head.
"You out of your mind?" she cried.
The buck snorted and ceased but kept his head low. His broad antlers followed Yeva's every movement and his fierce eyes never left hers.
"What kind of spell did you put on our doe?"
Yeva now considered the possibility that the young buck had indeed lost his mind. "The hell are you going on about?"
"The doe with the scars came back smelling like you. And she hasn't been able to say anything since!"
"I don't have anything to do with it! Nor can I cast any spells-"
"Are you an angry spirit, trying to infect our herd?"
"Clearly you've taken one too many knocks to the head!
He kicked up his front legs and landed a sharp kick into her side, forcing her back into a tumble. She let a whine escape her and tried to force her weight on her bad leg. When she raised her head she saw again his velvet antlers inches from her nose.
"If you don't leave, then I will kill you. I am not afraid of spirits or Old Ones."
He was a fool, then. Yeva bit her tongue and lowered her head, waiting for the young buck to withdraw his antlers and give her the moment to escape. She was locked in his glance, knowing that to flee now would leave her flank vulnerable. Yeva understood the deadliness of buck's antlers.
"This is the only warning you get. If I see you again, I'll kill you."
Finally he pulled away and gave Yeva the chance to stand. He snorted sharply and Yeva took her opportunity. With tail raised in a surrendering flag, she twisted on her three good legs and bolted over the rocks and into the wood, vanishing there beyond the mist. Behind she heard again the trumpeting bellow of the young buck, creeping along behind her like the wails of mournful ghost.
She ran until her breath escaped, and she could run no more.