Sharra's Tale Pt 1
Written as told by Llewelyn Mistral
"Sharra, wake up!"
The snow leopard-like girl slowly blinked open lapis blue eyes, raising her head to give an icy glare at the feline head poking in through her yurt's flap, whose ears folded back a bit in annoyance that mirrored her own. "The hunters are beginning to gather, and we need to get a move-on if we want enough meat stored before the snows arrive."
As the cloth fell back into place over the opening, Sharra laid her head back against the feather pillow she'd received as a gift after her coming of age ceremony this past season. Though she had been physically a woman at fourteen winters, tradition dictated fifteen, and so the leopardess was only now allowed to join the other hunters in their hunts.
She couldn't help but smile as among the sounds of the camp stirring, she heard a loud clang and mild cursing outside. If there was one thing she could always count on in the morning, it was old Mershas knocking over the cooking equipment trying to get the morning meal prepared for the hunters.
Climbing out of the bedroll, she grabbed her brush and took a few moments to brush loose fur from her silvery-grey pelt. She'd always been proud of the way it set off her rosette markings, and since she'd filled out she'd noticed a couple of the single males eyeing her when they thought she wasn't looking. Years of running around in the brush makes one a lot more observant, she thought with a smile to herself. While this was her first real hunt, her age hadn't stopped her from scouting for the hunting parties beforehand.
It'd kept her nice and trim as well, she thought as she slipped into her hunting leathers. She might not have the raw strength, but she was fairly fit and was among the more graceful of the tribe. It was said that old Master Densharr had been the same in his prime, and he had been among the most successful huntmasters before he grew too old to actively lead the hunt. The elders say that the starmetal swords he carries were gifted to him by elves in gratitude for helping them hunt down some extremely dangerous beast that had escaped their wizard and was ravaging the countryside.
After making sure it was all snug against her, she took a few steps and a twirl, feeling the armor move with her. Satisfied, she grabbed her bow and iron scimitar and finally left her yurt. A quick glance at the suns position though had her dashing through camp, ducking and weaving around other surprised catfolk. She wasn't going to be late today, of all days!
Standing outside a nearby tent, Densharr tried to hide his amusement as he watched the grey-silver blur streaking through the camp towards the hunting party making its final preparations. As he re-entered his tent, he thought back again to what the medicine woman had told him last night, her bones foretelling a coming storm. Age had treated him kindly, but he was still slower than he once was, and he might not survive what was coming. Childless, his mate having been lost to a strange sickness years before, his legacy would be the hunters he had trained. With some sadness, he wondered how many of those he had helped raise would fall to that storm as well.
The celebration that night was large, as the hunters had more than exceeded the tribe's expectations with their hunt that day. Sharra and another more experienced huntress named Tessina alone had brought down several of their prey, tag-teaming it with bow and sword, though Tessina tried to take most of the credit. The placement of the arrows and the sword cuts told the real story to the party, leaving a pleased Sharra and a disgruntled Tessina to help to carry the kills back.
With the plentiful meat, even with most of it already being prepared for storage, there was plenty to go around for the night's feast. In honor for their kills Sharra and Tessina were granted seats to the left and right of huntmaster Densharr. When they weren't being asked by the males of the tribe for a dance of course, as the music and chanting went on long throughout the night. It seemed to be only the huntmaster who noticed the daggered looks Tessina would throw every now and then in Sharra's direction, usually when the latter was dancing with one of the more handsome males.
One by one and two by two the tribe members eventually retired to their tents, some to sleep, some for more than sleep. As the fire and feast died down, Densharr finally found a chance to catch Tessina alone, as she leaned against a pavilion pole and stared into the glowing coals.
"Something happen today?"
Startled out of her thoughts, she looked up at Densharr, ears folding back a bit before she quickly forced them upright again. "Ah, huntmaster. No, nothing's wrong. What makes you ask?"
The grizzled feline's eyes narrowed a little. "I saw the looks you've been giving that new huntress. It's not the catfolk way to not confront someone, if we feel we've been wronged. Yet you-"
He paused as Tessina held up a hand. "I know huntmaster, but if I did anything it'd just make things worse. I'm going to get some rest. May the stars watch over you, huntmaster."
Densharr opened his mouth to say something, then closed it a moment later, unsure what to say as she turned and walked off. He watched the dark grey huntress walk off into the darkness, casually brushing aside an offer from a drunken warrior headed to his own tent, then turned and looked into the fading coals himself. It was not their way to bury problems, but to face them head-on and let the strikes land where they may. Maybe, just maybe the storm he was afraid of coming wasn't going to be from the outside, he thought for a moment, before dismissing it. It couldn't be... and yet, even still, deep down he felt a twinge of doubt.
That winter was an easy winter for the tribe all-around, with both Tessina and Sharra showing surprising prowess in hunting small game to supplement their stores, the two huntresses quickly becoming recognized as among the top. With mild concern, Densharr watched the one-sided rivalry grow each time, but each time he tried to step in, Tessina would just brush him off. It wasn't interfering with her performance, but still it bugged him.
Finally, spring came, rain washing away the melted snow, leaving the world fresh and new as it awoke. Or at least most of it.
It was during typical drizzly spring morning, when Sharra stumbled onto the strange tracks while stalking a wily old buck. It looked like those of catfolk, but smudged, as if they were shuffling. Catfolk don't shuffle, she had thought to herself, a moment before a glimpse of her prey pulled her from her confusion. Readying her bow, she crept closer, taking aim.
Then a distant, but loud, yowling scream sent the deer into flight and made the huntress snap around in surprise, looking for the source... and seeing smoke in the distance where their camp currently was.
"By the winds!"
Hunt forgotten, she dashed through the foliage towards camp, sounds of battle mixed with a low moaning she had never heard before reaching her ears. Running past the trees she skidded to a halt, fur standing on end at the scene before her.
Corpses littering the ground, a battle was raging in the middle of camp. In the midst of the battle were the tribes' warriors, led by Tessina, trying to protect the children and non-warriors huddled on the far side of the clearing. With growing horror, she got a good look at their opponents: the rotting corpses of a nearby tribe they had traded with last fall.
A shouted command pulled her stunned gaze to what seemed a well-tanned young human male stepped out of the trees. His red eyes burned with something she couldn't place as he pointed at her, and one of the undead turned to stumble towards her, an eye hanging out of it's socket and half the flesh missing off one arm, leaving the bone bare.
Steeling herself against her revulsion to the thing, she quickly drew and fired an arrow, moving to her right. The arrow embedded itself into the rotting flesh with a sickening squelch, but seemed to do little real damage. The maniac human just grinned as she cursed. As she moved to stay away from it, out of the corner of her eye she noticed that those fighting on the other side of the mob were already using swords to good effect. Shouldering her bow, she drew her scimitar from its back sheath and moved to engage the disgusting thing.
Running past, she sidestepped the uncoordinated swipe of the zombie and sliced a large chunk of flesh from it's side. Moving in and out, she carved it to gibbering bits, her revulsion slowly being replaced by disgust. Moving towards the mob, she started weaving around the edge of the mob, slicing at the mass of undead here and there.
"You only delay the inevitable!" Glancing over her shoulder, she actually stopped dead still in shock as she saw the strange, purple-black glow leave the necromancer's fingers and engulf three of the dead bodies if her kin, the corpses rising and moving to join the rest of the mob of zombies. A scream of pain shocked her back into action, head swinging around to see that the other warriors had reacted the same as she, and while one hunter moved back, hand over the wound in her arm, the others raised their weapons and began attacking with renewed fervor.
With growing desperation, Sharra moved back and forth, slicing at the rear of the surging mass of undead flesh while the others carved at the front, but with each one they killed, the necromancer would raise one of their own dead to join his ranks. Anger growing, she turned and ran towards the human mage, teeth bared and ears flat against her head. "You... you...!"
With a smirk, he waved his hand in a half circle before him, undead rising from where he gestured to surround their master as she drew close. Letting out a roar of anger, she started hacking at his "guards," keeping enough control to still avoid their blow and keep moving, but only just.
So intent was she on her goal that she didn't notice that she had help until the catfolk zombie before her fell to a blow not her own. As the half-trance she had fallen into fell away, she let out a half-gasp of surprise. Densharr himself had joined the battle!
As she weaved in and out, attacking the zombie guards, she couldn't help but admire his fighting style. The elder catfolk moved with grace and surety, and almost seemed to her to be dancing among the enemy, if not for the starmetal scimitars he wielded slicing into undead flesh withe every strike. This finally seemed to draw a reaction other than arrogance from the dark-haired human, who began gesturing frantically, shouting out commands to the mindless undead, more and more of them leaving the mob to replace their fellows being cut down by the two.
Seeing the turning of the tide, the necromancer slowly began to back towards the trees. "Don't let him get away!" Densharr cried hoarsely, his voice showing the fatigue he was feeling, though his movements didn't show it in the least. Heeding his words as she stepped back again, Sharra braced herself and dove between the two zombies in front of her, somehow avoiding their halfhearted swipes as she went into a roll and popped back onto her feet, directly between their enemy and his escape route. Baring her fangs in a predatory grin, she swiped at him, drawing a cry of pain and blood as her blade sliced across his arm.
Quickly his hands wove through a complicated pattern, and suddenly there were 3 of him all moving among each other. The leopardess paused, unsure of which one to attack, but Densharr twirled between the last two zombie guards still standing, blades rising and falling as he pirouetted past the mage, slicing through all three. Two of the images disappeared as the metal sliced through them, leaving the real mage only enough time to stare in horror before the blade rose again and his head left his shoulders.
As his battledance ended, the energy that had been keeping the old huntmaster going seemed to leave, the old catfolk dropping to a knee as he panted. Sheathing her sword, Sharra went to help him up, but he just shook his head and pointed back towards the rest of the tribe. Without a mind to direct them though, the remaining undead had become easy pickings for the hunters, and so Sharra concentrated her attentions on tending to the protesting Densharr while the others cleaned up the last remnants of the milling undead mob.
After the battle, they gathered and burned the remains of both sides, the tribe's medicine woman chanting and praying to purify their souls and guide them to the proper afterlife they deserved. Due to her leading the defense against the creatures to protect the rest, Tessina finally got the recognition she wanted from the others as well. As it was, they had lost about a third of the tribe to the creatures, including those who would be lost to infections over the next couple weeks.
Sharra was honored as well for her part in taking down the leader, but most of the credit went to Densharr. She didn't mind, just glad that she had survived, though the whole thing left a bitter taste in her mouth and a disgust for those who would bend the natural order of things so far from the norm. The most important honor to her however, one that left Tessina fuming, came to her a few days after the battle.
"Do you have a moment?"
Ears perking at the voice, Sharra looked up from the sharpening of her scimitar's edge and tilted her head in curiosity. "Of course, huntmaster, what do you need?"
As she slid the sword home, Densharr offered a hand to help her up form her sitting position. "Can you come with me? Oh, and call me Densharr."
"Of course hunt- er, Densharr." She smiled, taking the proffered hand and rising to her feet. "Where are we going?"
Without answering, the elder feline turned and headed towards the trees, leaving her to follow, wondering what he had in mind. "Something going on?" she asked questioningly, but he didn't answer until they passed between a couple large oaks and found themselves in a small clearing, light shining down through the break in the tree cover.
Drawing his starmetal scimitars, he turned back around towards her. "You fought well, that day, and I think you may be worthy, but first I must test you, as I was tested."
"Worthy of what?" The snow leopardess shook her head. "I'm by no means qualified to be huntmaster... that would be better given to someone like-"
"Like Tessina?" Densharr finished the sentence for her. "She would make a good leader, if she can overcome herself, but that's not why I brought you back here. You see, I'm getting old-"
"Huntmaster!"
"It's true." Reading the dismay in her expression and body language, he chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not ready to move on to join the Great Hunt yet, but you saw how I was after the battle with that necromancer." He waited for her to nod, then continued. "My family has always carried on a tradition of teaching our fighting style from parent to child. I am childless myself, and the last of my line. The way you moved when you fought those zombies, I think you may be able to learn the art."
As he had spoken, her emotions had changed from dismay at the thought of Densharr being near death, to confusion, to surprise. "You mean... you want ME to learn..." She trailed off, speechless as she remembered the grace she had seen him fight with, blades like poetry in motion, and he just nodded.
"But first, a test. Draw your sword." Reaching back, she did as he was told, still unsure of what was going to happen. "Good, now catch." The old leopard rotated his grip on the offhand blade and tossed it towards her quickly. As it tumbled through the air towards her, without thinking, she opened her hand and caught it by the hilt, then blinked in surprise as she realized how that could have gone very wrong.
Densharr just smiled, spreading his legs and entering a ready stance. "Now come at me."
"But-"
"DO IT." The steel behind his words threw her into action, dashing forward towards the grizzled hunter. This was the first time she had ever tried to wield two swords at once, but instincts she didn't even know she had took over, and the blades struck in a one-two pattern as she flashed past, With a clang, his single sword deflected first one blow, then the next as she fell into a pattern of moving in and out, the swords seeking any openings but finding none. The ringing of the swordfight echoed around the clearing as the two moved, testing each other, single scimitar moving just enough to keep the leopardess's blades at bay, feet shifting back and forth as the veteran hunter avoided the wilder offhand attacks from the unfamiliar weight.
The mock battle ended as quickly as it began. A rushed parry sent Sharra's offhand blade flying, nicking her hand in the process and drawing an involuntary gasp of pain. Lowering his blade as she drew back a moment, Densharr held up a hand. "That's enough."
At the sign it was over, the young hunter dropped her other blade and raised her hand to examine the wound, blood beginning to well up through the fur. Padding over, Densharr smiled apologetically, pulling some cloth out of his belt pouch to use as a bandage. "Sorry about that, I had to rush my counter a bit to stop that last blow. I'd say you've proved yourself ready to learn." She looked up at him, her lapis eyes wide as he bound her hand. "The question is, will you be my student? The way won't be easy, but-"
He oofed as she impulsively tore her hand out of his grasp and hugged him. "Of course! This is such an honor!" She gushed while he just stood there, trying not to laugh at his new student's exuberance.
Neither of them noticed the shadow which had appeared among the trees during the mock-fight, and now moved away again. Slinking across the ground back towards camp, deer carcass tied across her back, Tessina found herself fuming over what she had just seen. She was the one who was supposed to become mistress of the hunt, not that hussy barely old enough to lay with a male! She should be the one that the tribe looked up to. It was she who had protected the tribe during the attack, not the one who had been off doing who-knows-what. If Densharr was going to choose that- that- kitten as his successor-
Forcing down the dark thoughts that came to mind, she took a moment to compose herself. The others already are starting to look towards me, she thought as she took a few deep breaths and let them out. I'll just have to make sure that continues.
Plastering a victorious smile on her face, despite her internal feelings, she headed on into camp. She'd just have to prove to everyone else that she was the better hunter.
With the weakened state of the tribe, as the highest proportion of losses was among the hunters, they were forced to trade more over the next few months with passing caravans than they had in years to supplement their hunting.
That summer was ironically a lean time, with everyone contributing what they could. Tessina organized many hunting parties herself to take down larger prey, and slowly started to become the first choice for leading any hunting parties. No matter how well she was doing in the eyes of the other warriors, it still wasn't good enough to her, not until Densharr would acknowledge her like he had Sharra.
As for said leopardess, she found her hunting cut back unintentionally, as more and more time was taken up training with Densharr. To be fair though, he had waited until thing shad started to settle back to normal before he began teaching in earnest. It was grueling work at first, as he would ask her to perform strange tasks, and a missed step while practicing her footwork would earn her a slap from the flat of a blade.
As the training continued through Sharra's 16th winter and into spring, however, it had begun to transform from work into.. well.. fun. Rather than an exact copy of his own style, she was starting to combine her own natural movements with the flow of the blades, becoming more and more aware of her body and how it moved. Densharr even seemed to approve more of her finding her own style than directly learning his. As he told her later when she asked, "It's about finding the art within oneself, not from without. If I had ever felt you didn't have it within you, we wouldn't be here now."
When summer came around again, he started sending her off to hunt more often again, asking her to practice what she had learned during her hunts. Rejoining the hunting parties, she performed admirably, her grace drawing the eyes of several of the males and even a few females, to Tessina's dismay. Even using just a bow, when Sharra fought every movement down to the merest twitch of an ear seemed deliberate and guided. She quickly earned back any respect she had lost due to her time off from hunting, and to Tessina's mind she gradually turned from rival to enemy plotting to take her position. The older leopardess hid it, knowing it was un-catfolk-like, but it didn't stop her from believing it regardless.
The fall brought with it great amounts of rain. With many lowlands marshy or flooded, the tribe's camp ended up moving closer to the hills, taking advantage of the high ground to try and stay dry. Densharr trained Sharra openly now as he started to guide her through more advanced techniques, but he joined her less and less in the actual practice, claiming he could better tell by watching. The occasional cough he'd give made her a bit suspicious, but he blamed it on the weather and said it would go away once things dried a bit.
As fall gave way to a wet winter, the rain turned to snow and slush. While the cubs loved the way it packed so easily, engaging in snowball fights against each other and sometimes at surprised adults, the elderly huntmaster's health only got worse.
It was a dreary winter day when Sharra found herself called into Densharr's tent. The elderly catfolk had been stuck in bed for the past week, as his strength had faltered, but Sharra had not set one foot inside, wanting the hunter to keep his pride. When the medicine woman asks you to do something however, you do it, and so she found herself pushing aside the flap and entering a place she had never been.
With some mild disappointment she saw it was like every other tent. She had known that, but somehow, because it was the private sanctuary of someone she had come to look on as a second father, it had grown in her mind. A quiet cough from her left quickly reminded her of why she was here in the first place, and she turned, kneeling down to bring her even with the bed.
Densharr didn't look much the worse for wear at first glance, but to anyone who had known him any length of time he seemed to be missing something. Something hard to quantify... but it was as if he was becoming a ghost before their very eyes.
With a sad smile he reached up, stroking her hair a moment. "The Wild Hunt calls for me, and soon I shall go to join them. I know I didn't teach you everything-"
"You've taught me enough! If anything, I was the-"
"Stop right there." For a moment, his voice held the same steel she had heard from it over a year ago, then he continued in the same soft, raspy voice of moments ago. "You've been an excellent student, better than I could have hoped. I only wish I'd seen the potential in you sooner." Reaching down on the other side of the bed, he lifted up a bundle wrapped in hide, placing it on the blanket. "I want you to have this, and no arguments. It's not going to do me much good where I'm going ,and it is almost winter solstice, so you can consider it in honor of that."
Tentatively, the young leopardess reached out, pulling the flaps aside, and starting in shock as it fell away to reveal the two starmetal scimitars, sheathed in leather. "She opened her mouth, then closed it, at a loss for words, while Densharr smiled softly at her. "Happy Solstice, my student."
A cough brought her back to her senses, and she quickly folded the hide back over them, lifting them into her arms. "Thank you... I don't know-"
She cut herself off as he let out a hacking cough. "Just find an elder, and send them to me... I have a few more things still to pass on before I join the Great Hunt."
Densharr passed away in his sleep that night. A few speculated that it was the last few obligations he had been taking care of that had kept him on this plane, while others thought that he had known he was going to die and had been trying to take care of things first. The next week was spent in mourning, culminating with a wake in celebration of his life on the seventh day. There were a few hushed whispers when Sharra showed up at the celebration wearing Densharr's former scimitars on her back, but no one objected. Openly at least.
For Tessina, it was one more in the long line of hurts she mentally attributed to the snow leopardess. While a part of her knew that she didn't need them, preferring the shortblade when she fought, she just didn't care, because it was a symbol of the former huntmaster. A symbol that SHE deserved, not that two-bit jumped-up scout.
At the final feast that night, the elders revealed the second part of what Densharr had passed on before he died. Tessina was to become the new huntmaster, while Sharra would be freed from hunting duties to do as she saw fit. Both the felines showed surprise and pleasure at the announcement; Sharra because being a freelancer was so seldom allowed by the traditions, and Tessina because they had chosen her, when she'd been half-expecting them to give it to the kitten instead.
Still, Tessina couldn't help pondering over and over why Sharra was cut loose, even as she smiled and thanked the others as they congratulated her on her new post. She must be up to something, the new huntmistress thought. She probably convinced him with her body. Hell, she was probably sleeping with him the whole time! Why would she choose freelancing over being huntmaster? Maybe she knows the others wouldn't stand for it right now, and is using this to buy her time... time to get the others behind her instead of me... well I won't stand for it. She's a threat to the tribe's stability, and it's my job now to help keep the tribe stable, whether they like it or not. They wouldn't understand... I'll have to come up with something myself.
