Chapter Text
He knew what that groan meant. The last of the meat had suddenly disappeared into the meal they shared last night. He meant to remind them after grabbing the last of their reserves for a meat-oriented soup that was sure to last them three days max, but his fiancé wanted to make something else entirely for a brunch. Walter could only duck his head slightly into his shoulders as he heard Bloodhound come back into their lifted cabin, almost smirking as he watched them quickly grab the front door before it slammed itself into the frame. He continued to watch them as they walked into their bedroom, watching as they made their way to their clothing trunk, grabbing clothes to change into. They would usually close that door behind them too, but with how quickly they were moving, Walter assumed that his lover was, in fact, pissed.
Making his way over to their shared room, he leans his shoulder on the frame, watching Bloodhound hurriedly put on a loose tunic over an undershirt and tie their boots at a pace Walter didn’t even know they could go. They bolt back up and turn to grab a rather large tote bag on the other side of the room, quickly slinging it over their shoulders. Quickly walking back to the door to leave, they instead run their chest right into a metal arm. Letting out a ‘oof’ they glare at their mate, only for Walter to smile and cock his head to the side.
“You alright love? You seem a bit… What's the word? Tense?” Walter halfheartedly asked as Bloodhound ducked underneath his arm and paced into the main living space.
“Well, considering how I must go into the village to see if Frænka Ylva has any remaining meat I can use? I would say I am a bit…Tense,” they sighed out a reply, taking the time to slow down and turn to Walter, who was already behind them. “Thank you for telling me that we were out of meat, my Walter.” They reach out to pat his shoulder once, twice before heading to the front door again.
“Okay okay, I’m sorry Houndy,” Walter says, catching up to Bloodhound and holding the front door closed, forcing them to look at him. “Would I at least have the honor of joining ya? Please?” Giving his best pout that anyone could expect a man north of fifty to pull off. Somehow managing to mellow his rather pissed partner, they manage a shallow sigh as they tilt their head down in contemplation. He couldn’t exactly see their face, their usual goggles and mask were in place but not their headpiece, allowing their hair to be styled in a bun with small braids in front of their ears. Pulling this head up to meet Walter’s pleading eyes, they allow their head to give a nod.
“You may, but please, for the love of the Allfather, do not get her started-” they start but Walter is quick to open the front door of their shared home and pull Bloodhound by their waist outside with him. They are once again quick enough to grab the door before it slams, before following Walter down across a wooden bridge and into the village. Today, the village seemed to be at its own pace, there were no new buildings to build or territories to be argued over and the children seemed to be their own worlds. Some were running amongst others, while the older children helped their parents with small chores such as collecting recently chopped wood and collecting their siblings before they wandered too far. One in particular, was looking after their younger brother, who was actively playing in a small puddle of mud with nothing but his pants on. Bloodhound was quick to shake their head, all knowing that the toddler will once again have a small case of the sniffles.
Continuing through the village, the couple reaches a house that was specifically built into the earth with herbs and other vegetation growing anywhere it could reach. Small woodchimes and other charms are strewn along the roof making small musical noises every time a small gust of wind comes by. Bloodhound reaches to knock on the door as Walter looks around the scenery of the home, noting to himself to ask Ylva which tea she’ll be making despite Bloodhound’s wishes. The door is opened to reveal a rather stout and robust elderly woman, her hair was in two big braids that came in front of her torso, nearly in line with her waist. Upon seeing Bloodhound, the elderly woman raised her hands and clasped their hands with a warm greeting. The gentleness of the warmth was quickly cast aside as she saw-
“Walter Fitzroy! It took you long enough to see your frænka! Come here and let me get a good look at you!” pushing beside Bloodhound to get to their chosen mate, leaving them taken aback. Ylva reaches for Walter’s cheeks and forces him to be at eye level with the 4’9” woman as she tilts his head in false concern. “You are starting to look rather thin. Are you eating properly?” she asks as she guides him inside leaving Bloodhound to once again close the door behind them.
“Believe me, he is eating just fine. We merely came over to see if you had any spare meat for a small breakfast.” Bloodhound responds for Walter as they take off their satchel and place it on a hook made from a shedded deer antler. ‘Wait…did she take my hook when she was at my home last time?’ Bloodhound’s face turned into a light scowl underneath their mask as they continued into a small kitchenette where they found Ylva and Walter drinking water out of small pottery cups. Ylva reached her hand out to reveal that there was another cup for them as well. They took the cup without hesitation and unclasped their mask to take a few sips to find that their cup was actually filled with tea. They recognized the tea as one she made exclusively for them to help with their lungs and to relax their nervous symptoms, they always manage to forget to ask for a bag of the mixture to brew at their cabin on their own time.
“As much as I would love to help my beloved Blódhundr, I’m afraid I cannot this time,” Ylva dejectedly says, giving a tight half smile to Bloodhound as they continue to take small sips. “The last of my meat will be used for food that will last me for at least a week before I need to ask one of the younger hunters to fetch me more. Maybe that River child, they seem to be a good hunter for their age.” she continues to slightly ramble on as both Walter and his partner share a glance.
“Well, if that is the case, I can hunt for all three of us. It is really no problem.” Bloodhound replies in hope of ending their communion short. Once Ylva starts, there really is no stopping her lectures until she tires herself out. They stand and offer to take her cup which is now empty and sets it beside a water basin bowl that is placed on top of her counter. “I was planning on hunting for the day regardless. Now I believe I must get going before it gets too -” they cut themselves short with a quick ‘ow!’ as the short woman grips their ear and yanks them down.
“You come all this way to see me just to take my reserves?” the woman playfully scowls as she continues to make Hound bend in an uncomfortable state position. They quickly glance at their fiance, seeing how Walter has his hand tightly over his mouth to avoid letting his laughter come through. “And here I thought I raised you better than that!” She drags Hound to a cabinet where she finally releases them from her grip to grab a bag of herbs and proceeds to shove the bag into their chest. “Since you are so eager to take from your weak and old frænka, here are this season's herbs for that tea you practically gulped down!”
Bloodhound allows her to turn their body towards the door while they are still gripping the small burlap bag. However, they didn’t expect the old crone to smack their rear end, causing them to let out a surprised yelp. That's when their lover couldn’t contain his loud barking anymore and let out a roar of laughter, leaving Hound to roll their eyes and give a small headshake. Putting the herbs in their satchel and grabbing it from the hook, Bloodhound turns to give a deep hug to Ylva before heading over to where Walter was still seated and giving him a quick peck on his temple. Putting their mask back on, they take a long concentrated breath before heading to the door.
“I should not be long, there has been a surplus of deer these past few seasons,” they call out as they open the door.
“I know love, just come back to me, ay?” Bloodhound hears Walter say as he walks up to them, wrapping his arms around their waist as one final goodbye before their hunt.
“You’re certain you do not wish to come, mitt Walter? I wouldn’t mind your company.” they whisper, meeting their mate's gaze. Seeing that he is shaking his head, they assume he will not be joining them this time, which is fine all the same.
“Nah, someone has to keep this old crone company, yeah? But I’ll be sure to be home before you are. Don’t keep me waiting, love.” he remarks as they separate from each other. Bloodhound turns and starts making their trek back to their cabin to find supplies and their gear to go on a hunt.
.
.
.
Creeping alongside a small creek, they are following the same deer tracks for what felt like over an hour. The sun kept rising as the tracks seemed to run into itself and it left Bloodhound wondering if they should just abandon this single track altogether and attempt to find another set before it got too late in the day. For the first time in a while, Bloodhound was starting to get annoyed, which took them aback. ‘How long must I follow this before I find it? It would’ve made itself known by now!” They shout in their mind as they once again find themselves back at the same creek. Now seeing their own footprints in the mud, they start to back track.
‘No…something isn’t right.’ They stand straight up now, their back finally getting a rest from being crouched for so long. Bloodhound starts looking around for other tracks, ANY tracks that didn’t belong to this deer. They decided to move upstream with the small river in search of a new lead in hopes to be home in time to spend some of the off-season break with their fiancé. But at the moment, they felt something they haven’t felt in a long time, hunted. As if something was watching them as its prey and not the other way around.
Continuing on, they finally find another set of tracks that leads away from the creek and proceed to follow them whilst hunched down. They never needed to use their thermal goggles for these types of hunts, they always made sure to exercise their natural skill of tracking without the use of technology. But regardless, they wore them anyways, they had more use than just finding heat signatures. However, that still didn’t help them relax in this feeling of being watched. There were no predators in this territory that Bloodhound feared and could easily take on by themselves. So what is it that is making them feel this way? For merely a moment, they feel their heart pound once, twice, within their chest as they force themselves to take a breath to find their center again and continue following the tracks.
‘Wait…what is-’
“CAW!!”
Bloodhound jolts and turns away from the tracks to the source of the noise to find a raven swooping down and lightly hitting their headpiece with his talons and flying back up to land on a branch nearby. Quickly hopping up and down in a frantic pattern as his feathers ruffle up in an attempt to make himself look bigger.
“What is wrong, my friend? What do you see?” Bloodhound attempts to sooth the raven as they walk under the branch that their feathered companion is on. Artur now leans his head down as his feathers show a more menacing feature, giving a long guttural growl in the direction where the tracks were leading. Sensing his uneasiness, they draw both of their axes and crouch down, slowly continuing on the track as Artur's cries get more desperate to scare off whatever he sees. Their eyes are darting from their peripherals to what is in front of them, they cannot see anything, but that feeling of being watched by something much more threatening than themselves causes their heart to slowly beat more and more prominent.
In an attempt to somehow gain an upperhand, Bloodhound presses a button on the device on their wrist to send out a thermal reading of anything that could possibly be near them to give them some form of safety. They quickly turned in a circle in order to get all possible directions in which this creature could possibly be located. They saw what they were fearing over as Artur’s calls got impossibly louder, realizing that their raven wasn’t warning the low hunched figure not nearly 15 meters away, but he was warning them. The realization hit them like a trident as they called for Artur to fly off as the hunched figure now started scuttling to them on its hands and feet at an alarming rate. Causing them to back track before turning and bolting in the opposite direction. Their eyes go into a tunnel vision as their lungs start to go into overtime in such a short response. Their senses go into tenfold, hearing the creature's bounds become closer and closer to them as they start to see a sandbar connection to a big portion of the creek they were just following.
Finding a surge of adrenaline within, they turn around and raise both axes up in front of their torso, crossing their arms and having the blades of the axe face what was speeding up in front of them. In a split second, they were able to see what they were running from, a mass of black fabrics ram into them forcing the two to fall into shallow waters of the sandbar with the creature on top of them. Bloodhound thrashes and attempts to roll to get whatever was on them off to find their footing, but they couldn’t move, they were pinned.
Panic sets in as they resort to thrashing their head aiming to hit the creature's head to stun it. They hear Artur’s calls circle above as he swoops in and hits the being, but to no avail, as if his attempts weren’t even noticed. The creature groans as Bloodhound finally hits something, causing the covered figure to slightly go back before slamming their head down with its hand.
“Artur! Go to Walter! Lead him to me! Go!” they shout as the raven turns and heads back towards the village. They didn’t know how far away they were from Walter, but they knew that all they had to do was buy time. They struggled against the hand pressing their head into water, thankfully, it was shallow enough to where the water only reached to their covered ears.
They let out a guttural groan as they continued to struggle against whatever this thing was. Their adrenaline slowly being replaced by pure desperation, their arms pinned against their torso and their axes somewhere on the sand out of reach.
“Stop moving.” the cloaked figure snarled, applying more pressure to Bloodhound’s head and torso; specifically pressing on their lungs to force them to stop their struggling. “You’ll make this much harder for yourself.” There was something behind that voice, behind the robotic tone that made their ears quirk at the tone. But through the panic they assumed that this was one of Revenant’s many bodies that Loba was telling them about from one of her attempts to kill him off. But that still doesn’t explain why on any planet, that he would send one of his bodies just to kill them, for all they knew he and Bloodhound had no qualms.
“Andskoti, I will give you one chance to unhand before I will hunt down your head myself. Release me Revenant.” they muster enough control in their voice to not sound as if they don’t have a rasp from the pressure on their chest. The figure seemed to take their threat as it released its pressure from their head and chest and slightly leaned up away from them. In a mere instant, Bloodhound charges headfirst into the being’s torso causing them both to stumble backwards. They quickly grab a knife from one of their many sheathes on their belt and aim for the creature’s neck, but through the overhead shawl, they couldn’t see any hints to where it would begin and end.
In the split second their knife makes contact with the fabric, a cold hand slams into Bloodhound’s neck and lifts with immense strength. Their breathing hitches and they choke as the creature continues to lift them and manages to raise itself onto its feet. They slam the knife into the creature's arm, but it did not flinch, it did not howl in pain, just tightened its grip on their throat.
“I said, enough. That is no way to treat someone who has such deep history with you…ástin mín.” it states again. That voice, hearing it again made their ears cause them to second guess themselves. They knew of that voice, but it once belonged to…’Oh no, it can’t possibly be.” They struggled a bit more before they felt a pressed blade to their throat, causing them to still.
“Whatever foul modification you have gifted yourself will get you slátrað.” Bloodhound sneers as they begin to get lightheaded. The being allows them to gain a footing, but not without restraint. They jerk, to no avail, their eyes darting in every direction for anything, anything to help them get out of this.
Their eyes lock in as the figure reaches a free hand to the hood and drags it over, revealing a head cover similar to a ski mask, letting its eyes be known. ‘Those eyes…” They look so familiar. Curiosity causes Bloodhound to tilt their head despite the grip on their throat, their hands tightly grip the figure’s forearm and wrist. They try to ignore the pit forming inside their stomach, to make every effort to seem stoic in spite of their positioning. Their breaths are labored, their heart is pounding, their lungs are on fire, but yet, they can’t stop staring as the creature continues to take off the mask and what Bloodhound sees nearly makes them lose consciousness.
“...Boone? It can’t be…you’re-”
“Dead? That’s amusing coming from you.” Boone claims. Bloodhound’s skin grows goosebumps as their blood turns ice cold. Everything becomes too much as their breaths grow deeper and deeper.
“How? I saw you that night…” they say in a state of shock as Boone releases their throat but to bring out the knife closer to them.
“You saw, but you never fully checked. You left me to rot that night as you killed off that beast that would’ve made me rich. Then, you left to play those games that you claim were on my behalf.” Boone sneers as the knife is pressed close to the fabrics on their chest. “It took me so long to find you again, but the hunt was worth it. ‘Cause now,” he whispers as he grabs the collar of their jacket and leans into the side of their head. “You owe me what I deserve. You owe me my óséður.”
“Nei, I refuse, you violated the hunt. Your actions caused your falla, not me.” Their voice steeled by his intent.
“Refusing is not in your best interest. Unless you wish to lose a certain…mate?”
Their eyes widened. He knows of Walter. How long has he been stalking? How long have they not noticed his presence until now? No, they couldn’t let Boone get to Walter. They couldn’t bear the thought of losing him after how much they put into each other. And with Boone being this…monstrosity, they could only imagine the worst possible outcome if they didn’t comply. Taking all of this into consideration, Bloodhound could only do one thing in this situation.
Lowering their head they ask with a weighted guilt, what is needed of them. Boone's lips turned into an upright smirk as he once again left his grip on Bloodhound, keeping the knife turned towards them.
“You, o brave hunter of mine, will first take off any technology that can be tracked down by anyone. You will destroy them, and once more hunt the óséður. Only this time, I will get what I am owed.” Boone insisted as he began to reach for their left wrist that supported their tracking system. They are quick to yank their arm back towards themselves.
“I am more than capable of doing it myself, andskoti.” they snap. Taking off the device, they place it on the ground and stomp on it, making a showing to Boone that they have complied. They watch as he raises a finger to his brow.
“Those too.” he instructs.
“If I take them off, I cannot see. You know of this.” they retort. Though half correct about needing their goggles to see, there was a hidden mechanism they added to the goggles years after they were first made. A small tracker, capable of sending pings to a trusted ally. It was small enough to be unnoticed and overlooked as a small screw on the metal. They needed Boone to believe the delusion they were making. They needed him to overlook it. “Besides, the goggles that I am wearing are the same from our first hunt. Without them, we wouldn’t be able to track the beast.” They made a good case. Good enough to where Boone gave a thoughtful nod.
“You’re correct…” Boone adds. His eyes cut over Bloodhound’s form, as if scanning for something. They tense for a second before Boone walks behind them and grabs the scruff of their overcoat and shoves them forward. In quick timing, they pretend to lose their footing and fall onto their knees, their left hand quickly pressing the small screw-like button in a faux motion of fixing their goggles. “Get up, we’re on a deadline, and I hate to be the one showing your new pathetic excuse of a man, your remains.”
Bloodhound gets back up onto their feet as Boone retrieves their axes nearby and places each in a hilt on both sides of his hips. He regains his grip on their collar as he forces them forward through the treeline unaware of the ping that they have just sent out to the only person they assigned it to. They pray to the Allfather that all of this goes in their favor, that this nightmare ends and they wake up laying up against a tree. They pray that Walter gets to them in time.
Dear Gods they pray.