Private Tales The Beating of Skin Drums

[Rori]

Her eyes widened as his arm came around her like a living blanket. His chest was solid and warm against her back, his bicep firm beneath her cheek. A small sound escaped her, half protest, half surprise, because it felt like the proper thing to do. But she didn’t move away. Not when the heat of him was chasing the cold from her bones.

“Three days .. to catch a deer?” she asked after a moment, incredulous, her voice muffled against his skin. The notion sounded absurd, surely hunters could do so in half the time. Still… she found she couldn’t bring herself to feel any disappointment. Three days meant three more nights away from the eyes of the others, away from the camp and its sharp whispers and lingering stares. Three more days in the wilds. Out here, there was only endless wilderness and the strange comfort of his presence.

Her lashes lowered, her shivering eased. She listened to the steady rhythm of the rain outside the cave, and to the slower, heavier thud of his heart against her back. Without thinking, she reached for his arm and tugged it a little closer around her, tucking herself more securely into the warmth he offered.

Three days.. She rather hoped the deer were scarce.

 

[Urosh]

He was surprised. He expected a protest and an angry word. Instead she only spoke into his arm, her breath hot in the cold.

To her question, she received only an affirming, “Mm.”

Three more nights, unless they found a deer early. And even then, Urosh intended to delta as long as possible. The more time away from camp, the more heads would cool from the recent battle.

In time, he fell asleep to the sound of her breathing and the thrum of heavy rain.

The next day, they looked to their wounds and ventured out into the foothills. The rain stopped at some point in the night, but it left everything damp and muddy. Urosh studied the ground for signs of game and came upon a creek he knew to be nearby, which led up away into the nearby valley cleft in the high sides of the craggy hill. The mountains of the Spine loomed in the distance.

Urosh knew that the creek led to a waterfall further up the valley. He also knew that game liked the steep, secluded valley and tended to stick to the stream banks. It would prove a climb for them both, wounded as they were, but Uriah felt she was up to the task.

He spoke more to her of shooting with the bow and spent another hour practicing with her when they stopped to rest their legs.

By midday, they were well into the valley and came across three deer clustered by the bank of the stream. Urosh went into a crouch, grimacing as his stitching protested.

“You shoot,” he nodded to her.

She would likely miss. That would be well, for it would give them more time away. And if she struck too, well, her joy would be its own reward.

Rori

 

[Rori]

Rori had slept far more soundly than she’d expected to, warm, cocooned against Urosh's chest, lulled by the rhythm of rain and breath and heartbeat. When dawn came, her body ached as she stirred, every muscle stiff from sleeping on stone. She rose without complaint, stretching sore limbs, her feet tender but bearable beneath the fresh bindings.

The air was crisp, the sky veiled in low clouds, and mist hung in the hollows of the hills. She kept pace with him, her smaller steps steady and determined, only falling behind when something along the path caught her eye; a patch of violet wildflowers nodding in the damp breeze, or a cluster of mushrooms at the base of a tree. Each time, she’d hurry to catch up again, smiling faintly to herself.

When they stopped, she listened as he instructed her on using her bow, trying to remember his advice; her stance, her breathing, the strength in her core. She found herself enjoying the practice, though her arms trembled with the effort of pulling the bowstring again and again.

By the time they reached the creek, the air had grown still, and the quiet was broken only by the burble of water and the occasional call of a bird. When her gaze fell upon the three deer, she froze. They were beautiful. Delicate, graceful things, enjoying their peace, and her heart lifted at the sight… then sank, when she remembered they were supposed to shoot one. It hadn't been three days.

She crouched beside him, glancing at him with wide eyes. “Me?..” she whispered, a faint crease forming between her brows. She hesitated, then nodded and drew her bow carefully. Her pulse thudded in her ears as she took aim, and breathed deep.

She dropped her aim just slightly before she loosed the arrow, and it thudded harmlessly into the mud a few feet from the deer’s hooves. The startled creatures bolted, their white tails flashing as they disappeared into the thicket.

Rori sighed, her shoulders sagging as she lowered her bow. “Shit…” she muttered under her breath, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She looked at him sheepishly. “Terrible shot. I’m sorry...”

 

[Urosh]

"Do not be sorry," he rested a hand on her shoulder.

She'd shot closer than he'd expected and for a moment he'd been worried their time would be cut short and he would have to find some other excuse to keep them out here. But the way she'd dropped her aim at the last moment... it made him wonder.

Even so.

"Many hunters feel the thrill of the hunt beating the drum in their heart and it makes their hands tremble. Their shots go wild. Yours was closer than many first hunters I have seen."

Urosh shrugged.

"We go further up."

And he led her along the banks of the creek, climbing higher into the valley. In the distance, he could hear the roar of the waterfall. They were still some ways distant.

"Do you hear it?"

Rori