Heart's Yearning

[dray]

Characters: Brandili
When: Simultaneously with One More Goodbye
Wordcount: 893
Summary: While Owen says goodbye to her family, Brandili keeps her eye on the prize.
Notes: Crossposted to rainbowfic

Something about the mush the deer trails turned to, this time of year. Made Brandili feel like a child, first time astride a pony, fists clenched close in the mane, knees so tight her mount went skittish. Concern, fear, like a prey animal, vulnerable, the both of them.

But they weren't vulnerable anymore, they were in fierce pursuit, the stumble a brief one before Brandili's mount caught his footing. Damn, no, no time to loose the arrow.

A warble through cupped hands across the intervening distance told her the flanking hunter was changing vector, trying to flush their prey as it darted into heavier brush near the lake, hoping to hide. Her grip, legs only, prompted Old Song to barrel forward and crash through the underbrush in pursuit. She ducked a low-hanging branch and spat out an arrow she'd been keeping in reserve before it could be torn from her face.

Re-nock the bow, a flash of white tail, waiting for one wrong move... She drew her arm made sinew-strong from long practice and released the arrow just before her horse screamed in surprise; they'd broken down a bank and into an unexpected slough made rich and sluggish by early spring melt, and Brandili yelled an oath as she was thrown head over hind-end into the muck, hard on her back.

The world was jarred around her and she lay very still for a few minutes, feeling the vibration of Old Song's hooves nearby as he madly scrambled onto the bank. She felt numb, awful, soundly winded. Searing hot, freezing, too much to process all at once.

"Bran," a muffled shout, probably not the first time, and steadier hoof-falls as one of her hunting companions forged near, from the opposite bank. "Brandili! You okay?"

Truth be told, not so much, just now. She'd taken tumbles before, she knew what pain was. But here she was, trapped on the frozen shoulder of a kingdom she didn't belong to, had never belonged to, had stripped her of a part of herself she thought was incontrovertibly hers. She'd done it for love, and for revenge, and because she could never admit to anyone that the thought of going home tore open a lot of old stitches she had worked hard to sear over. Oh, no, she was not feeling so well.

"Just tell me I got him." She flexed her fingers and toes experimentally, but they really did feel numb. Was this just it, then? She wouldn't be surprised if this was how she went... but if it was, she regretted not being able to be with her daughters. Anahi was fierce and proud; she was worth every wicked heartache. Vi, too, was an unexpected burden who had turned into a joy. Brandili was going to do everything in her iron will to come back if this was the end of her, even if it meant breaking all the laws of the hereafter to keep them safe...

"Cheela's finishing him off," the voice was less muffled now. Closer, the footfalls of a human overshadowed those of her horse. A hand gripped her tight under the elbow and hauled her bodily up, and Brandili realized that the worst of her fears came from the way her heavy cloak and scarf had gotten bogged down with slough mud and ice water, which had soaked plain through. Her backside was completely numb, and she sagged for a moment, but then when Dorada let out a guffaw at her dishevelled state, Brandili felt her spine firm up. "By my mother's ghost, Bran, you look like slop! Anything broken? That bald skull is harder than it looks."

She wanted to tell Dorada that this bald skull of hers had at one point been meant to wear a crown; of course it was hard... but the joke would have fallen flat, and left her in more danger than it was worth. "Tell that to me when I'm one big bruise tomorrow," she said, instead. "Help me back up... we need a fire. And a camp. And you can get started on that, since I got the shot in."

"You always get the shot in, you curmudgeon. You waste all your love on your family and leave all your spite for me." But Dorada was helping her up. Brandili grunted, swung back into the saddle as Old Song huffed and sidled. He wasn't looking much better, but they trusted one another... and being up here, that was familiar. They took comfort from one another. "There you go, all better, eh?"

"Yeah," Brandili agreed. "I been thrown before."

"You been thrown your whole life," Dorada snapped. "That's for sure. Don't freeze before we get out of this prickle-mess, alright?"

"Yeah," she echoed. "Think warm thoughts for me."

"And all the bugs and smog that come with them." Yet Dorada pulled gently at Old Song's reins, looped them in with her mare's. The trek to the butchering site was short, and the shot had been perfect, straight through the heart. Brandili showed no outward sign of her deep self-satisfaction.

For just a moment, that moment of clarity before the fall, she'd seen her ex-husband's gaunt, greedy face in her mind's eye. There was an arrow waiting for him, one day. She had her reasons for keeping her title among the ranks of hunters in Urdasvale.




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