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It had been a blessedly slow day at the clinic. No patients, no wounded hunters stumbling in without showering and spreading their beasty germs about, no ungodly ruckus of Henrietta mauling some foolish beast that wandered into what she saw as “her” yard. Admittedly, it was more of her yard then Doctor Melody Anar’s even before she became more of a beast than a chicken.
Without any patients, Melody had time to take care of the chickens, milk the goat, clean, and have some well deserved rest. His home was small, more like a cozy, furnished hole then anything else, but it was the best a foriegn doctor in a horribly backwards, narrow minded country could get, and he was proud of it.
Of course, the lack of room was becoming difficult, as Melody was unexpectedly finding friends in a very unfriendly place, and it was becoming difficult to host them. At least his first friend in Yharnum, Bryan had found proper lodgings, but after receiving a letter about a distant relative coming to Yharnum without a place to stay...well, he’d need to find solutions for the lack of space. And soon.
There was a sharp rap on the door.
“Oi, yew owtsider, come owt ‘ere and give me bones a good sawin’.” A hoarse voice yelled from behind the door. Melody stifled a chuckle, pressed a worn bookmark to save his page in the medical journal he was reading, and started his response before he had even finished fully opening the door.
“Quicny, you Yharnumite impression is terrible, as always.” Quincy grinned at him, hat in hands. The weak Yhurnum sun glinted off hair that had been bleached by much brighter conditions. Wherever Quincy came from, it was a far sunnier place then miserable Yharnum. Heaven, possibly.
“Aww, how did ya know it was me?”
“Your accent is far too thick, so you overcompensate. And I could hear your boots clicking up the stoneway.” Melody observed, leaning on the door and doing mental math in his head for room for Quincy to sit. He’d have to move the pile of books and medical supplies off the other chair, but then where would he put the books? The floor, he supposed.
“No need to shower before heading in.” Quincy gestured to his wiry body. “Clean as a whistle.”
“Of course. You used the camp shower last night, and it’s only late afternoon now. Still, take your boots off, please.” Melody beckoned him inside.
“You don’t miss a beat, do you?” Quincy stepped over the threshold, bending down to carefully ease off his boots. Melody gazed with interest at his footwear. The boots were unlike anything he had seen, embroidered with intricate, curving stitches that formed leaf like shapes on the shin and top of the foot. They had a slight heel for riding, Quincy being a skilled equestrian. Melody himself, well, horses seemed spooked by him, so he had only ridden a horse once. Once.
Quincy never liked to talk about himself without prompting, but he had mentioned having horses back home, and spoke about them with much affection. One of these days, Melody was going to crack that nut and finally learn about his friend’s past and home.
The boots were visibly worn, but had been lovingly cared for. Quincy put the same amount of care into his battered leather hat, which only showed some sun fading around the edges.
---
“You know, me being an outsider and all, I just can’t seem t’find a hunting partner.” Quincy cupped his tea mug in his hands, leaning back in the chair with an ease that normally would not be associated with such a tiny and miserable piece of furniture. Somehow, Quincy was able to find comfort and feel at home anywhere.
“They don’t have you hunt without one, do they?” Melody asked. He already knew the answer. Quincy smiled knowingly as he scooted the seat back against the wall in a bid to negotiate some more leg room.
“Well, everything here is going to hell in a handbasket, and the Church is throwing their usual high standards out the window. They are compensating for roping in poor fools like myself into the hunt when we try to get blood treatment. Keeps the Church happy because if we live, we take down a few beasts, but if we get devoured, well, that's one last damned outsider.” Quincy sighed deeply.
“I wish you came to me first.” Melody muttered. Quincy sighed, spreading his hands in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.
“I went to all kinds of doctors back home and over the sea. None of them knew what was causing the aches’ n pains, the fevers, my thoughts bein in a fog, the circular rash-but the blood cured me. I feel like myself again! Jus’, well, I got other problems now. Like hunting partners.” Quincy looked at Melody apologetically, knowing his opinions on the blood. Melody shook his head tiredly. Nothing he could do about it now.
“Surely Father Gascoigne...“ Melody started before Quincy shook his head.
“They see him as an honorary Yharnumite. Married a nice local girl, has two beautiful daughters, great hunter, respected. Me, I just came here cause Doctors back home couldn’t find out my issue.”
Melody furrowed his brow. He only knew most hunters from a distance, and in the dark, but some of the friendlier ones came to mind. Well, friendlier to outsiders then the usual Hunter.
“Surely Alfred would hunt alongside you.”
“He’s AWOL, Doc. He’s always been a bit, well, strange. Friendly, but strange. Something about truly dedicating himself as an executioner.” Quincy sighed, leaning forward. His usual cheer had vanished instantly. Melody wondered how much of it was an act for his sake. “Hope he comes back. Heard some hunters saying a Blood Moon is coming, whatever the hell that is, it doesn’t sound good, but we need all the Hunters we can get, not some Yharnumite mobs with torches and pitchforks.
“So, they send you out all alone.” Melody stated flatly. Perhaps too flatly, but Quincy probably already knew what was going on.
Quincy smiled, his honeyed eyes glittering. He smirked, a bit mischievously.
“That’s the thing, Doc. You see, I seem to have quite a bit of luck during my hunts.” Melody raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.
“Oh? Can you elaborate on that?”
Quincy leaned back again, placing his hat on his head with a confident smirk. “It seems that whenever I’m out hunting, beasts from a distance just seem to drop dead. I’m never in trouble on my hunts. Sure, I’ve had a few close run ins, but always in hand to claw range.”
“What a strange phenomena.” Melody hid his expression by taking another sip of tea. Quincy did the same, looking over the cup’s rim with a devilishly.
“Almost like I have a guardian angel...one with a rifle and fantastic aim.”
“Such things don’t exist.” Melody said, glancing upwards.
“Of course not...partner.” Quincy said.
“Partner.” Melody echoed, smiling.
---
A gunshot echoed through the night. Quincy casually stepped back as the beast fell before him, collapsing the handle of his bloodied axe to its usual size. Quincy smiled and looked up towards the direction of Melody’s humble cottage, giving a thumbs up.
Many hundreds of meters away, unseen by Quincy, Melody returned the gesture from his sniper’s nest on the roof of his home, smiling as he went back to peering through his monocle at Quincy.
Quincy knew he was never truly alone on the hunt. His partner was always helping him out.