[Trade] [16873] [17413] A Stolen Kill

It had been a cold day. Nothing unusual—this land never showed warmth to anyone but those who belonged to it. Rhaegor watched his breath turn to mist in the icy wind, focusing on it as he exhaled, steadying himself. Beneath him lay the fresh kill of a white-tailed deer, its neck wounds clean and deep- precise, to avoid wasting the pelt or the meat. Killing was only done when necessary. One had to be careful, clever, and prevent needless suffering. The thought stirred old memories, and he recoiled, grimacing. Now was not the time. He composed himself, took a breath, and knelt to hoist the deer onto his back. His broad frame made carrying it easier, even if it dirtied his fur. The weight settled, and he murmured a short prayer out of respect for the life taken before turning toward the village.

At least, that had been the plan.

“Hey! Hunter- whatever. I saw that deer first!”

Rhaegor raised a brow, glancing toward the irritated voice. Standing there was a Reosean- one he had never seen before. It resembled a vayron but had wings. Well, more like… folds. The unimpressed stare Rhaegor gave it only seemed to offend the stranger more.

“I came all this way, so, really, that deer is mine by right.”

“What right?”

Rhaegor scoffed and turned away.

“The forest belongs to no one. You were simply inadequate at catching your own meal—”

The rest of his remark was cut off as the stranger slammed into him. The sheer surprise of it did more damage than the impact itself, sending him face-first into the snow. With a low growl, Rhaegor pushed himself up and lunged, slamming the other Reosean into the ground, fangs bared.

“Woah—woah!! Okay, that might have been—a step too far.”

The stranger raised his paws—hands? Rhaegor narrowed his eyes and pressed his paw down harder.

“Do you make a habit of tackling anyone who has something you claim is yours?”

“Usually, I don’t have to! They just give it to me!”

Rhaegor looked him over. Was he seriously suggesting that people just handed over whatever he wanted? The thought made him scoff.

“Well, I won’t. Find another meal.”

“Now—now hold on—”

Ignoring him, Rhaegor stepped off, returning to his deer. He lifted it onto his back again, keeping an eye on the stranger in case he tried something else.

“As you can tell, I’m not exactly—from here.”

“I never would have guessed.”

The sarcasm was dry as Rhaegor adjusted the weight of the deer and started walking. He heard the snow crunch under the stranger’s paws—loud, clumsy steps. He had no idea how to move quietly, Rhaegor noted.

“So, I, uh. I could use some help. Haven’t really… slept the last few days. Mind if I borrow your bed?”

“Borrow my bed?”

Rhaegor flattened his ears, shooting him a glare.

“I don’t even know your name. Not that it—”

“It’s Yokourin.”

“—not that it matters.”

Rhaegor ignored the interruption, looking him over again.

“So, you see, I don’t know where to go. I was gonna trade that deer for some coin. Since you’re keeping it, the least you could do is feed me and be a gracious host.”

“You do not want to test your luck with me.”

Yokourin tilted his head before ducking it slightly, falling into step behind him. He was taller, but Rhaegor didn’t let that matter.

“I’m not testing anything. Just asking for a kind favor from a kind stranger.”

He smiled—sheepish, almost charming. Rhaegor rolled his eyes and turned away.

“You’ll find a sympathetic ear in the village. You may follow me until then—no further.”

“Roger that. Of course—of course.”

They walked along the forest’s edge in relative silence. Rhaegor led, while Yokourin got distracted by every little thing, as if he truly had never been here before. Occasionally, Rhaegor caught glimpses of him fiddling with his wing folds. Weird. Finally, curiosity got the better of him.

“So, what are you?”

He hadn’t meant to ask, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

“I’m a Haedian.”

Yokourin’s tone carried an air of importance, as if the word alone should make Rhaegor bow in realization of some great mistake. It didn’t.

“And what does that mean? You eat hay?”

Yokourin snorted, quickening his pace to step beside him.

“It means I’m not from here. Haedians don’t belong in this land.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Hm… I suppose you could say I was chased away.”

“Ah. So they thought you were annoying too--”

“No. They merely… lost me in the ruckus.”

Yokourin’s voice lost some of its usual arrogance.

“I’ve been trying to find my way back for years now.”

Rhaegor arched a brow.

“Well, there are no Haedians in Roenden. That much I know.”

“Yes, well, I have to start somewhere, right?”

He couldn’t quite argue with that. He did, however, make a point of stating that there would be no talking during their trip to the village. Yokourin agreed, but as predicted, he couldn’t quite hold onto that agreement for too long.

–

“So, then, naturally—I left them. I mean, who does that?”

Yokourin’s voice had long since gone in one of Rhaegor’s ears and out the other. At first, he had grumbled in agreement or thrown out the occasional sarcastic “oh no.” That, perhaps, had been his mistake—indulging the Haedian’s endless tales. The moment he spotted the smoke rising from the village, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The warm glow of torchlight flickered between the buildings, and the scent of roasting meat carried on the wind. Evening meals were being prepared, people winding down after a long day. Rhaegor had never been happier to see it.

“We’re here.”

“Oh! Well… that’s a bit small. I expected a village to be… bigger, I suppose.”

Yokourin stepped up beside him, surveying the village like he pitied Rhaegor for living in such conditions. The condescending look on his face was enough to make Rhaegor scowl, and without another word, he pressed forward, eager to lose him in the crowd. Inside the village, some people were still chatting outside their homes, while others hurried indoors for the night. When Rhaegor finally reached his own house, he turned to find Yokourin still trailing behind him. With a flick of his magic, the door unlocked, and he gestured for the Haedian to leave.

“I have guided you to the village.”

“But you said I’d find a sympathetic ear! And whose ear has been listening to me for ages now?”

Rhaegor ignored him, stepping inside and promptly shutting the door. Of course, the Haedian immediately started banging on it, shouting for his attention, but after several minutes, the noise stopped. Silence. Finally. Exhaling, Rhaegor turned to the deer, laying it down and eyeing the cuts he would keep for himself and the ones he would sell. Living among humans had taught him their ways—skinning, portioning, preparing meals. It was a useful skill. At least now, he could focus on it in peace. The quiet of his home wrapped around him, a welcome relief from Yokourins incessant chatter. It had been quite a while since someone had decided to be so friendly and open around him. It wasn’t surprising, then, to learn that Rhaegor still appreciated silence more than not.

He walked through his home, taking several knives wrapped up in leathered, taking them to a whetstone and running each blade in slow, measured strokes. The scraping filled the space, grounding him in the stillness. He could hear the distant voices carried on the breeze outside, the occasional bark of a dog, the low crackle of damp wood catching flame to keep oneself warm in the cold of Roenden. This- this was peace. Once satisfied with the edges of his blades, he set to work skinning the deer. The hide peeled away in smooth, practiced motions- years of living by himself within the village brought him that skill- and soon he was carving the meat into portions. The best cuts he kept for himself, and the rest were wrapped neatly in cloth, setting them aside for trade.

A knock at the door broke the quiet, softer than Yokourin’s assault. It almost came as a surprise that the door was even still standing, but Rhaegor’s ears flicked back in irritation all the same. With a grumble under his breath, he crossed the room and opened the door, only to be met with a familiar face. A young woman, barely more than a child, from the village, wrapped in a thick shawl, holding a big, round basket with goods in front of her. 

“Rhaegor!”

She greeted with a smile, shifting the basket in her arms.

“I heard you brought in a fresh kill! Thought I’d stop by before the market hounds start swarming and picking it clean before the rest of us get any pickings!”

Rhaegors eyes drifted from her to the basket, considering as he smelled the contents before stepping aside to let her in.

“You know what you want?”

“The flanks, please.”

The woman stepped in, walking over to a table to set the basket down and picking up several of the neatly wrapped parcels. Dried herbs, fresh bread, a small jar of honey. A fair trade, Rhaegor decided. Gesturing to the wrapped meats, he took the parcels in his mouth and moved to set them away while she helped herself.

“That– traveler that was with you-”

“He was not with me. Ignore him.”

The puller exhaled through his nose as he returned, shaking his head.

“Oh, I intend to. He’s already been pestering the elders for a place to stay, but they’re  not keen on taking in drifters. Let alone one of a kind they have never seen before.”

“Good.”

Rhaegor turned back to the pelt, prepping that, too, for sale. The woman lingered for a moment longer, amusement dancing in her eyes as she watched the puller happily try to avoid the subject. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had fresh company, and you do have a way of keeping things… interesting. Try not to scare him off too soon, Rhaegor.”

She took her basket once more in her hands and waved him goodbye before she left, closing the door with a curled foot behind her. Rhaegor grumbled under his breath at the words that haunted him since she spoke. If Yokourin thought he could charm his way into the village, he was sorely mistaken.  And with that, Rhaegor sealed his fate. He dropped his tools, sighing heavily before he stood and got ready to leave the house. 

It didn’t take long to find the Haedian at all. He wished it had taken longer. The poor Reosean had taken to sitting sadly in front of the elder’s house, his head hung low and pouted. It would have made the woman from earlier look at him with compassion and care- Rhaegor lacked those, however.

“I see none have answered your plea.”

He announced his presence as he walked up to the Haedian, who looked up in surprise- followed by glee. Rhaegor once again already regretted his decision.

“Oh!! Have you changed your mind??”

“You leave in the morning. No hassle, no overstaying, no talking.”

The puller practically pointed at the Reosean as he turned around to lead him back to the house. Yokourin behind him could have jumped with joy as he trotted behind the vayron, following him happily. Ofcourse, the return home was filled with some more complaining, and stories, and Rhaegor lost count of the amount of times he had rolled his eyes. Nevertheless, the Haedian continued, oblivious to his host’s feelings. 

Come the morning, Rhaegor naturally woke up early and when noon rolled around, the Haedian had still not woken up. So it seemed that the rules had, once again, already been broken and ignored. The woman’s words lingered, however, so as the Haedian slept, Rhaegor found himself holding back from waking the Reosean, watching him as he slept and providing him with a safe haven- if only for this now, second, day.