Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Again.”

Tarja’s gruff voice pierces the natural calm of the forest, holding a blunt wooden lanceand greatshield that almost looked miniature against her massive stature and dense muscles. Her eyes are razor-focused on her younger sister Runa, a calm expression contrasting with her armored chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Runa, however, isn’t faring as well. Of average build and strength, the younger woman breathes raggedly as her light bowgun dangles limply at her side. Despite the sweat dripping from her forehead and her unsteady stance, the defiant fire in her eyes burns brighter than the setting sun.

“Baldur, set the targets up.”

Tarja motions toward a black-and-brown striped felyne sitting further behind Runa who quickly darts all over the clearing, pinning up a myriad of hastily painted targets onto bullet-riddled trees.

“You’re not tired?” The younger sister asks breathlessly, wiping the droplets of sweat out of her eyes. “We’ve been at this all day. I had to BEG you for a snack break this time. This is getting ridiculous.”

“Are ya kiddin’? This is how Pa trained me! Sunup ta sundown! Sharpens yer skills, makes ya ready ta hunt in extreme conditions!” The elder sister spits out response, grip tightening on the wooden training lance as her calm expression slowly shifts into a more intense, determined scowl. She whips her head from side to side to shake off her own sweat, dreadlocked hair flailing wildly before coming to rest on top of her armor’s pauldrons. “Quit yer whinin, yer not gettin’ any sympathy from me. Pa always said that ya gotta push it ta the limit if ya ever wanna get stronger, so we ain’t stoppin’ ‘til yer stronger. Simple as that. ”

“Y’know you’re not dad, right? You’re a little too soft for that.” Runa retorts without missing a beat. Smiles creep onto their faces. “See? You’re already smiling. Dad hasn’t smiled since I told him I hated hunting.”

Tarja’s confident coaching facade briefly breaks, her hardened face softening just a bit. “He’ll smile once he hears I’ve been whippin’ yer sorry ass into shape ta join the commission. I promise.”

Baldur, having completed the target setup, bounds between the two of them to signal that their training session is ready to begin anew.

“Yer not too tired ta remember the rules, are ya? Remember: three pokes and-”

“And I’m dead . I know, I know. Hit the targets, don’t get jabbed, whatever. Just try not to jab me in the stomach this time, okay? I’m barely keeping that disgusting Rheno meat down as it is.”

“Monsters won’t do ya the same courtesy, so why would-”

“UGH.” Runa’s eyes practically roll out of her skull. If I have to hear that cheesy line one more time, I’m gonna lose it , she thinks as she loads normal rounds into her rifle. “Tarja, you-”

“Ready, nyah?” Baldur quickly interjects, and at once Tarja readies her training weapon. Runa is slower to prepare herself, tucking her weapon under her arm so she tie her fluffy, natural hair into a poofy ponytail. Confident her hair would no longer disrupt her vision, she takes a few steps away from her sister and steadies the stock of her bowgun against her hip.

“Aye, ready for you to eat dung.” Runa angrily murmurs.

The spiteful whispers dissipate before they hit her sister’s ears, but they ring loud and clear for the sensitive-eared Baldur. He’s smart enough to keep silent, not wanting to waste one of his nine lives running his mouth. Instead, he raises his paws into the air to signal the beginning of the countdown.

“Three, nyah!” The palico shouts at the top of his tiny lungs, both huntresses on alert.

“Two, nyah!” Tarja lifts her shield slightly, obscuring the lower half of her face as she tucks into herself. The bruises on Runa’s stomach pulse ominously; her whole body seems to scream at her to be ready for something .

“One-” Tarja kicks off like a frenzied Barroth, knocking the unassuming cat to the side as she rushes her sister down, her practice lance fully extended. Thunderous footsteps pound the ground as she closes the gap, putting every ounce of her weight behind a mighty thrust...only to lose track of Runa as she dives and rolls out of the path of her sister’s rampage.

The nimble huntress’ intuition had finally caught on to elder sister’s trick (about 10 vomit-inducing pokes too late), scrambling to right herself and wildly fire off a couple of shots. Only one hits their mark, but it’s all she has time for as the ungraceful clattering of her sister’s armor makes Runa mindful of her opponent’s redirection.

Tarja grinds to a halt, nearly falling over as she tries to rapidly change directions and chase her prey. Despite how happy she is that her sister finally reacted properly, she maintains an intense scowl of concentration. NOW it’s a match! The feeling of competition sent chills violently thrashing down her spine, heart pounding with untold amounts of ruthless glee. Could her sister have finally learned her lesson?

Runa tries to line up a second shot at a higher target, but loses her concentration as she dips to avoid an incoming spear tip, then another and another. Tarja jabs and pokes at her sister incessantly, forcing her to continue to backpedal without a moment to breathe. She knows her sister’s weaknesses like the back of her hand. If the monster closes the distance and applies pressure, she becomes so focused on avoiding the hits and backpedaling that she doesn’t bother to even try to hit a target. She gets worn down as they chase each other around the arena, and eventually ends up flat on her back when her legs give out.

Sure enough, the dextrous huntress’ bobbing and weaving grows dull and sluggish, less predictive and more reactive. The lance comes closer and closer to finding center mass on Runa, even coming as close to grazing her ribs before the young huntress realized she needed  to do something - fast. She can feel her legs buckle beneath her with every step backward, threatening to collapse and open her up to immense pain, but her options seem to dwindle with every passing second. To take her eyes off of Tarja is a death wish, and sliding past her rapid assault would require perfect timing to not simply catch a lance to the chin. Despite having the illusion of an impenetrable defense, Runa notices something she hadn’t in previous sessions: Tarja opens herself up to stab with the wooden lance.

What do you do if you can’t go around something?

You go through.

Runa drops to avoid a jab, then explodes upward as Tarja opens up for another strike to deliver a devastating uppercut right to her sister’s exposed chin. The unexpected punch sends the older woman stumbling backward in a daze, the two of them sharing mutual pain as the younger sister massages her stinging knuckles. It hurts like hell, but it buys her enough time to line the shot up again and blast the target right in the center. Bullfango’s eye.

“Nyah-hah!” Baldur meows with excitement, suddenly on his feet with a toothy grin. After weeks of watching his partner be on the receiving end of some nasty blows, Runa had finally given one back.

“You sneaky little...ow, gods dammit. That hurt!” Laughter bellows from Tarja as she squeezes her jaw, testing the extent of the blow. It’s sore, and she definitely heard something rattle around for a second, but she’s more impressed than anything else. Runa hit her! Runa! She is finally taking the training seriously! Tarja’s excitement is barely kept under wraps, masked with a wide-eyed expression of awe.

“I’m convinced that you’re part Khezu, not Wyverian. All that damn yelling.” Runa adjusts the strap of her bowgun as she taunts her sister, loading in three more normal rounds to replace the ones she had used. That brief moment of cockiness - her eyes focused solely on her ammo pouch - is all Tarja needs.

The towering huntress rears back before taking flight, roaring as she leaps toward her sister and uses her momentum to come in for a powerful diving blow. By the time Runa’s finished rummaging through her pouch, the spear collides with her shoulder with enough force to send her tumbling to the other end of the clearing.

“That’s one!” Tarja declares triumphantly as Runa releases her agony into the ground, her whining and expletives lost to the soil. “Remember, ya always need ta be moving! Yer first move was good, but ya can’t stop after just one. Keep yer head up and eyes peeled! If ya can’t make snap decisions, yer done for!”

The younger huntress wheezes as she struggles to gather herself together again, managing to climb to her hands and knees before her shoulder throbs and locks her entire arm up. Her body begs her to stop just as it had in the first sparring match, and every match after that. Bruises on different parts of her body flare up to make themselves known, with the throbbing on the back of her head being the most intense. Runa can practically see the Deviljho again whenever that old scar pulsated. The blood-freezing cold of the blizzard, those feelings of deep desperation, staring right into the bloodied face of death...she gasps as the beast’s maw closes in, shaken free from her day terror with a sudden rush of fear-fueled adrenaline.

It’s an extreme reminder of why she continues to stand up.

“There ya go! Quit yer floppin’ and cryin! Yer fine!” Tarja shouts encouragingly, planting her feet to prepare for another charge. “Are ya ready? Four more targets!”

Rather than respond, Runa silently raises the bowgun and snipes a third target. It feels worlds better than actually cursing at her, and her sister’s surprised expression gives her the same smug satisfaction.

“Three more. Never let your guard down, right?” The young woman asks spitefully. Tarja snorts, genuine shock painted on her face.

“Just like I thought.” The corners of Tarja’s lips twitch, fighting the urge to beam with pride. “Cheeky little shit. Lookie there.”

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As the sun disappears beneath the horizon the training session draws to a close, leaving the sisters and their loyal felyne to start their nightly camp ritual. Baldur drags back buckets of water for them to clean up with, Tarja yanks dry branches to spark a campfire and Runa handles roasting meat once the fire’s high enough. They all wordlessly fall into their roles as the sky dims, and by nightfall they’re all in their usual positions in the center of the camp, huddled around their main source of warmth and safety.

“So,” Tarja absently picks at her teeth with one of her clawed fingers as she speaks, a handy gift from her Wyverian ancestry. “How ya feelin, runt? Think yer ready for the boat?”

“Er…” Runa hesitates, jaw forcibly shut by anxiety. In the morning they would be marching back to Moga Village to catch a one-way boat trip with the Hunting Guild’s illustrious Research Commission. Their destination? An island only referred to as The New World. Reports occasionally floated back on supply ships about the Commission’s unbelievable - and typically dangerous - findings, and none of them were remotely enticing to a woman that was still wrapping her mind around being a huntress by trade rather than in name only.

Runa exhales slowly through her nostrils, fidgeting and shifting as she struggles to muster up a satisfactory answer for her sister.

“I...I mean-”

“It’s okay to be afraid, Runyah.” Baldur chirps. The sisters’ eyes dart to the felyne, who sets aside a freshly-gnawed bone. The younger huntress gives her palico a small but grateful smile, the cat’s words informed by shared experience. Tarja grunts with disapproval. “You’ve made lots of progress! Today’s session was unbelievable, nyah! It’s important to have that little bit of fear! Being too confident leads to mistakes, nyah!”

The elder sister snorts and spits, shaking her head with explicit disapproval.

“Y’all two are too soft. That kinda weakness’ll get ya killed.” The massive huntress hops to her feet, the flames of the campfire rising to match her passion. “The only advice ya need should be comin’ from ME. I hunted with the Ace Hunters, and...”

Runa and Baldur both sigh; they had lost count of how often they heard that phrase over the course of the last year. Neither of them ever challenged Tarja’s raw power or battle prowess, but something about that phrase felt condescending.

For Runa in particular, she’s reminded too much of her father’s relentless ambition.

“...I learned that hesitation WILL get ya killed. Never doubt yer instincts, and never walk in scared. Ya go into the hunt with fear, that fear makes ya freeze. Ya freeze...and you better hope the monster doesn’t hit anythin’ vital, or them felynes are gonna be cartin’ ya back in pieces! Gwah hah hah!” Tarja throws her head back, the thunderous laughter at her morbid joke echoing through the empty woods. But as she looks to her comrades to see their smiling faces, she’s disheartened to find solemn, frowning faces gazing far into the darkness.

“Whaaaat? C’mon, it’s supposed ta be funny. Jokes! Ya remember those, right? I know it’s been all business lately but I know ya still got some jokes in ya.” Tarja playfully nudges her sister with her knee, who stubbornly resists by refusing to budge.

“You know I hate jokes like that.” Runa murmurs. She curls up slowly, bringing her knees to her chest as she stares at the fading campfire. Baldur curls up at her feet in silence, a quiet show of solidarity.

“Oi, Roo…” Tarja’s eyebrows furrow, lips tightly pursed as the gears grind in her mind to try and find the words to exercise empathy. “I...I didn’t mean ta-”

“It still haunts me, Tarja. Staring right into the mouth of a Deviljho . Face to face with a monster that makes even the highest ranked hunters shudder.” Her older sister eases her way into kneeling down next to her distressed sister, a clawed thumb gently massaging - or at least, with the least amount of force she can apply - her sister’s aching shoulder.

“Ya hardly mention it anymore. Figured ya just…”

“Moved on? I...I’m not like you. Or dad. Or mom. I can’t brush with death and bounce back. I can’t do what you do.”

The crackling logs of the dying flame fill the wordless void created as Tarja’s free hand clenches, her best efforts to bridge the gap between her and her sister coming up heart-wrenchingly short.

“Runa, do you still feel like you’re-” The elder sister chokes on her words, her lack of experience confronting strong emotions clashing hard with her desire to rekindle a friendship lost to chasing different priorities. It’s too painful to think about, let alone say. She’s just not ready - not yet.

“Hm? Do I feel…?”

“N...Nothing, Roo.” Her voice cracks and quivers, failing to disguise her emotional anguish. “Hey, remember the time we went bug catching as kids? Over in the Swamp?”

Runa snorts, a weary smile creeping onto her lips.

“I wouldn’t call what you did ‘catching’. I was the only one who brought a net. You, on the other hand, thought - and I quote - ‘the pretty bugs taste better’.”

“Yeeeeeah, that’s the one! Look, in my defense, them shiny beetles were as delicious as they looked. Mmmmm mmm!” She jokingly licks her fingers, exaggerating the smacking on each finger as Runa begins to chuckle.

“Yuck! You even ate, like, six Stinkhoppers! Betcha that’s why you’ve got mush sloshing in your head these days.”

“Oi! Don’t ya start on me! I still remember yer snivelin’ and runnin’ back ta Pa, talkin’ ‘bout how I was eatin’ the bugs you liked! Ya big wimp!”

“They were cute! Ugh. It’s been this long and I still think you’re the grossest ever.” Runa releases her knees as she stretches, a full-fledged grin lighting up her face. “Dad was so mad. We couldn’t go back to the swamp alone for a week because of you!”

“Worth. Every. Beetle.” Tarja declares with pride, and for the first time in what felt like ages the two of them shared a hearty laugh. “Okay, okay...thanks fer goin’ down memory lane with me. I, uh...I couldn’t let ya fall asleep with a frown. What with us havin’ such a big day tomorrow and all.”

“Thanks for that. It’s nice to see that you still care so much. Feels good to reminisce on...better days...” Runa nods slowly, her smile fading slightly as the fire fizzles out.

Tarja's breath hitches, Runa's words needling her heart like a Banhabra sting. The smoldering embers try their hardest to illuminate the campsite but they’re too weak to continue, leaving soft moonlight to pick up the slack.

“Well…” Tarja clears her throat, hopping up and clapping her hands together to signal the end of the conversation. “Go ahead and climb into yer sleepin’ bag, aight? I’ll stay up a little longer ta make sure we ain’t ambushed or nothin’.”

“Thank you, Tarja…” As she unfurls her sleeping bag Runa realizes just how exhausted she is. She hardly manages to slip into the leather bedroll completely before her eyelids become heavy. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning...”

“Aye! First thing, lass! And hey, I’m...I’m real proud of ya fer workin’ so hard. Th’ way ya walloped me earlier, ya really got me good. Yer so much stronger and I-I...”

Tarja pauses to sharply inhale, and the only response she gets back is gentle snoring. At least it felt good to get off of her chest.

Tarja slips the lance’s shield onto her arm and prepares for another night alone with her thoughts.

“Never mind."

Chapter Text

Once a quiet and unfrequented fishing town on the coast of a (mostly) deserted island, Moga Village’s small population began to swell as enthusiastic hunters and huntresses piled into airships to catch the Commission’s transport boat at its final stop. Not since Ceadeus had been discovered in the island’s underwater ruins had the village been so energized! The din of enthusiastic hunters rattle day and night, the town’s only inn so full that its residents are forced to sleep three or four to a room just to accommodate them all! Needless to say, the village’s sleepy residents are working overtime just to keep their new guests fed.

After packing their campsite up at the crack of dawn and marching into the village, Runa passes under the thick wooden portcullis that separates the town from the monsters beyond and finds herself stunned. After months of seeing only Tarja and Baldur from sunup to sundown, the sheer volume of fresh faces and voices is overwhelming, to say the least. Sure, she knew that the Hunting Commission wasn’t a small crew by any stretch of the imagination, but seeing just how many other hunters there were - likely more qualified than she could ever be - made her feel...insignificant?

It’s a different sort of frustration for the young woman, one that she hadn’t experienced since she struck out on her own for the first time. The anxiety of being out of place, alone in a crowd of her peers. The kind that makes her question why she even bothered working as hard as she did for all those months.

“Ya smell that, Roo?!” Tarja’s booming voice cuts through the indistinct chattering of the crowds as clear as day, rhetorically posing a question to her distracted sister. Only Baldur, sitting on Runa’s shoulder, glances over to show the giantess that at least someone is paying attention. “That’s the smell of adventure! Doesn’t breathin’ it in just get yer heart racin’?!”

“Smells like rotting fish, and the salt stings my nose…” Runa murmurs, her complaint lost to all but the chuckling felyne.

“Of course it does, what am I sayin’! My little sister’s a bonafide huntress now, and we’re gonna take that island by storm, eh?!” Tarja beams as she completely blows past Runa’s grumbling, throwing one of her massive arms around her open shoulder and pulling her in. It’s playful to her, but the elder sister’s excitement has her yanking her sister around like a rag doll. “You and me! The sisters, together ta slay! Feels good, eh?”

Runa musters up a smile at that, which is more than enough evidence for Tarja that things were looking bright. Even if she struggled finding her footing as a huntress, being with family - and a little furry friend - at least helps her feel less alone. It’s a small but meaningful step toward mending a burned bridge.

“Let’s get ya registered! Gotta do that ‘fore the boats get in!”

Tarja gleefully takes the lead, forcefully parting the crowd by refusing to try and ‘politely’ navigate the labyrinth of hunters. The elder huntress had her eyes set on the Inn, and not even Runa’s frequent apologies for the people she trampled on along the way would stop her. Judging by the pained groans of the hunters in their wake, Baldur’s fairly sure there would likely be a few that won’t be getting onto the boat.

The inn is the beating heart of the village, buzzing with a steady stream of hunters squeezing past each other into the doorway. The smell of exotic seasonings and gamey meats overtake the village’s fishy odor, and as the trio enters the bustling building Runa finally feels as though she can breathe deeply.

“Ahhhh...I missed this! The hustle through the halls, the clangin’ of armor, swear words that I’ve never even DREAMED of - ain’t never felt more home than I have in a Guild Hall, Roo. Never!” Tarja breathes deeply, exhaling through her nostrils. She lived and breathed the hunt, and could hardly remember the last time she wasn’t trading barbs with other passionate hunters before and after tackling a fearsome beast - or three.

“It’s definitely better than being outside, I’ll say that. The smell of food mostly. Not so sure about everything else.” A tight smile forms on Runa’s lips. It’s a small improvement, but the stuffiness from tightly packed hunters with a roaring flame in the other room to rapidly roast meat and fish quickly offset any gains she would have made from changing environments. No matter where she went, nothing felt right…

“If that means some properly cooked grub, then I’d rather be here nyah! I’d rather pull my whiskers out than eat that camp-cooked slop again!” Baldur jokingly whines and yowls to feign stomach pains as Tarja approaches the counter first, producing her hunting license - a small but thick notepad filled to the brim with stamps of her accomplishments through the 3 hunting tiers - and setting it on the counter to be examined.

“Watch what you say, you little pile of Aptonoth dung-” Runa plucks her furry compatriot from her shoulder, staring directly into his eyes as he hangs limp and wide-eyed. Despite her intense scowl, she couldn’t stifle her lighthearted laughter. “Or you’re gonna end up being the next meal!”

Runa playfully scolds her small friend by shaking him around as Tarja does her best to hold and dip a tiny quill into an even smaller inkwell, presented with a red ledger for her to sign. The massive woman appears to hesitate, staring at the ledger with an anxiously bitten lip for what feels like an eternity before she finally scribbles her name in and slides the book back to the registrar. Tarja and the older man have a brief conversation in voices too low to catch until -

“Runa?” Tarja turns back around to her sister and slowly motions toward the counter with an emotion her younger sister couldn’t quite place. It certainly wasn't as hopeful as it had been before. “C’mon Roo, yer up.”

“Er…” Runa slowly stops playing with Baldur and steps forward to set him on the counter, their brief moment of levity brought to an abrupt halt. “Yeah, got it.”

“Ah, so you must be Runa! Yes yes, a pleasure to meet you. Your sister spoke highly of you!” The registrar offers a complimentary smile, but receives nothing in return from the young woman. He continues to speak, undaunted. “The process is simple! I’ll just need to see your hunting license to confirm that you’re qualified to take the trip.”

“Uh huh. Hopefully this will do…” Runa trails off, reaching to the bottom of her leather ammo pouch to pull out her license. Significantly thinner than her sister’s, the registrar quirks an eyebrow at the young woman’s light notepad.

It takes the man all of a few seconds to flip through what few pages were in the notebook, clapping it shut with an indifferent “hm”. His smile never wavers, but he’s clearly unimpressed.

“I see, I see. Looks like you either did the bare minimum or avoided dangerous hunts wherever possible, is that right? I only see a few stamps for Blagonga, Velocidrome, and a Khezu. No Astalos, no Gammoth, no Nerscylla, not even a Gravios...”

Runa’s gaze finds its way to the desk, shame stinging her cheeks like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I...I did, yes. B-But I also killed a Savage Deviljho…” Runa’s shining achievement fumbles from her quivering lips, and the man nods curtly.

“You did, and well done to you! For a woman that spent her time lingering the middle of high ranked hunts, you managed to take down a beast that tests the mettle of even the best G-Rank hunters! I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t know who your sister was. Clearly fighting above your weight class runs in the family!”

Runa can feel the solid lump of inadequacy stuck in her throat, trembling fists held tightly at her side as her face grows flush with the pain of humiliation. She can’t even stand on her own merits without Tarja holding her up!

“Y...Yes. I suppose it does.” She replies through grit teeth. She shakily extends an open hand toward the man expectantly, unsure if she wants to cry or scream. “May I have my-”

“And by the gods, has she fought!” The man excitedly exclaims, and the attentive elder sister begins to squirm uncomfortably as she fights the urge to interrupt. Neither sister was particularly pleased about where this conversation was going. “She’s among the youngest to ever hunt for a Lao-Shan Lung, went toe-to-toe with both a Hellblade Glavenous, withstood the venom of the Dreadqueen Rathian, joined the Ace Hunters to slay - not even repel! - a Nakarkos-”

“Oi oi oi! That’s enough, eh?” Tarja barks, swiping the small notepad from the surprised registrar and placing it into her sister’s open palm. “No one likes ta hear the boring stuff.”

“Thank you, Tarja.” Runa murmurs, silent tears bubbling up from a deep well of unresolved heartache rearing its ugly head. Everywhere she looked, around every corner, on everyone’s lips - Tarja. The second anyone found out they were related, the comparisons flowed like a waterfall. Nothing against her sister - she had clearly earned the bragging rights that others bestowed upon her - but why did everyone feel the need to put them under a magnifying glass together? It felt invasive, having everyone possible draw conclusions without bothering to learn just how different they were.

The little jabs added up to an overwhelming amount of anguish over time, and was one of the many reasons she set off alone.

“My apologies! I just get carried away sometimes, seeing the monsters that others hunt. I don’t get to hunt, you see. Bum knee makes me a liability. So I live vicariously through all of you!” The registrar’s passion seems sincere but the damage has already been unwittingly done. As he ducks under the counter, Runa takes the brief opportunity to swiftly wipe her precariously perched tears away and swallow the lump in her throat, forcing her angst back to the deepest recesses of her stomach where it belonged. Away from her sister.

“And here we are-” The man pops up from beneath the counter, turning a dull green ledger toward her before sliding over an inkwell with a vibrant Qurupeco feather resting inside. “This is your ticket in! Just go ahead and pick an open space to sign your name on.”

It doesn’t take long to find an open spot - strangely enough, only the first few pages were signed - and she slides the ledger back with a slight smile, only for the registrar to push it back.

“Hooooold on there a sec! All Palicos must be registered as well, and are limited to one per hunter. I know hiring and deployment rules for Palicos are different in each region, so make sure this is the Palico. With all of THAT out of the way-”

The man reopens the ledger, flipping to the back to show a series of paw prints from the various other cats hunters had brought in. Finally realizing it’s his turn to be involved Baldur strides forward, leaning down to examine the ‘signatures’.

“So this is my competit-nyan, eh? Looks like a bunch of kittens to me.” The cocky prowler sets a paw on his chin, stroking his fur. Runa’s brow quirks, the hint of a sincere smile on her lips. “I’d wipe the floor with ‘em all. Top of the heap, I’d be!”

“Er, if I can interject here…” The registrar clears his throat, drawing attention from the huntress and ire from the interrupted Felyne. “There is no competition. The Commission is meant to be a research and exploration team, created in order to gain a better understanding of the monsters we share our lands with. Hunting is certainly an important part of this and you’ll certainly be compensated for your work, but-”

“Uh huh. It’s noble, for a good cause nyah. I get it. But we’ll hunt, don’t we?” Baldur meows over the registrar, whose smile has entirely faded. The process isn’t meant to take this long, and he can feel himself losing patience with this Felyne.

“Uh...y-yes. Yes, of course. I just said that.”

“Then I’ll be the best at it, nyah. Runyah, Tarja and I will be your best hunters. End of discussion!” Baldur pours a bit of ink on his palms and excitedly mashes them down, leaving a pair messy and vaguely cat paw-shaped prints that took up an entire page. Runa is mildly amused, silent laughter held in her chest at the display of unabashed bravado. The registrar is the furthest thing from impressed.

“Thank you for your...impassioned speech. And for making a mess of my book. We’ll be sure to keep that in mind for your assignment. Keep an ear out for the bells, they’ll tell you when the ships are coming in.” The stoic man slides the ledger back under the counter, then motions for the three of them to back away from the counter. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

Mutters of exasperated relief ripple through the long-past patient hunters and huntresses waiting behind the group as Tarja ushers her sister down the hall, Baldur hopping onto Runa’s shoulder to hitch a free ride.

“C’mon! Now that we got ya signed up, I gotta show ya one last thing in the kitchen ‘fore the boats come in. Trust me, it’ll be great!” Tarja exclaims, as though her sister ever had a choice in the matter. Her lack of agency doesn’t stop her from playing along with a smile though, knowing how much fun her older sister is having at the prospect of both being reunited with family and hunting in foreign lands.

Runa’s mostly just happy to see her sister again, hunting be damned.

It’s even harder for Tarja to navigate the narrow hall than it was for her to move around outside, clogging up the walkway like a walking wall. It didn’t matter how many times she, Runa or Baldur apologized during their short trip, nothing made up for hunters having to flatten themselves against a wall to get around the Wyverian - a feat only made more uncomfortable depending on how much armor her victim had decided to wear that day.

Tarja is the first to breach the kitchen’s doorway, and she nearly squeals with delight at the sight of a wall of cheering people, all turned inward watching...something. Only Tarja stood tall enough to see what, leaving Runa to see nothing but the backs of excited hunters and huntresses, jingling bags of gold in hand.

“Don’t let ‘im win!”

“C’mon, I got a lot riding on this!”

“Is he cheating? No one’s THAT strong.”

“That’s what you get for betting against a Wyverian.”

“Wyverian…?” Runa murmurs to herself with extreme interest. She hasn’t seen another Wyverian outside of her family in...ever! The odds of running into another one here had to be astronomical, at minimum! The curious woman plucks her Palico from her shoulder and holds it close to her chest to make it easier to slip through the crowd, keeping her eyes trained on the center of the shouting maelstrom to keep from being disoriented by the churning masses. The ranting and raving audience surrounds and envelops her, pushing and pulling her like the currents until she emerges on the other end to find-

“Dad?!” Runa shrieks, nearly leaping out of her skin at the sight of her hulking, bearded father reveling in the challenge - or lack thereof - from the two hunters across from him.

Unkempt and clad in Duramboros armor as mighty-looking as he is, Drebit watches the two hunters strain and struggle to make his arm budge even an inch in their arm wrestling contest. The older Wyverian man hardly looked like he was breaking a sweat, smiling and guffawing as he eggs on the crowd. He’s having the time of his life, putting on a show by doing everything but finishing off the red-faced hunters.

“Oi, ya steppin’ up too? Hope yer bringin’ more than just yerself cuz ya look scrawny. Be a shame ta take yer coin from ya.” Drebit absently notes as his eyes glance past the shocked woman toward other elements of the crowd.

It takes him a moment for his head to snap back and realize just who he was looking at. The broadest, most genuine smile spreads across his face, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. His daughter is finally back home.

“Aight boys, show’s over. I’d love ta stay and make more money, but I got more important stuff ta handle. ” Drebit grunts, flexing his massive bicep before slamming the two mens’ arms onto the table and nearly throwing them onto the floor in the process. As the challenge draws to an anti-climatic close some in the crowd cheer and others groan, the familiar jingling of coins overtaking the mutterings of the hunters. Slowly but surely a majority of the hunters disperse, leaving Tarja, Runa, Drebit and a fiery-haired woman with a hefty coin purse in her hand, wearing the sharp golden scales of a Seregios and the greediest smile on her face.

“Ya didn’t sell it hard enough, old man. We coulda made more if ya played up the ‘weak and old’ angle. Didn't even bother to pretend that ya might lose.” The woman playfully chides Drebit, tossing the coin purse onto the table. She raises her eyebrows at him before she makes eye contact with Runa, giving her only a warm smile as a greeting. “Your dad just can’t do it like he used to.”

“Don’t think just cuz the kids’re here that imma let ya scold me, eh? Watch yer mouth, Rath.” Drebit’s rumbling voice quips back. The eldest Wyverian places the coin purse into a hip pouch before standing, eclipsing Runa and even standing a head taller than Tarja.

“Pa!” Tarja opens her arms up wide and practically tackles her father, gleefully wrapping their enormous arms around each other as they start telling each other harrowing hunting stories. Runa can tell how tightly they’re squeezing just by looking, and she feels a phantom ache just thinking about one of those spine shattering hugs. Her father is full of love, just...rough around the edges. Very rough.

“Hi, mom.” Runa murmurs with a slight smile, setting her palico back on her shoulder. The more reserved between the two parents, Rathia sets her hands on her armored hips to study her daughter and her furry compatriot.

“So ya went and got yerself a license AND a cat, did ya? Lookie there.” Rathia remarks with a teasing side smile, motioning toward Baldur. “You’ve grown. Yer not the same lil’ girl that ran off in the middle of a night a few years ago.”

The young woman shuffles uncomfortably as her past transgressions are re-exposed and prodded. The only person Runa bothered to tell that she was leaving was her sister, which she can’t imagine went well the next morning. Her parents don’t appear to be bothered, but just because it’s not obvious doesn’t mean the pain isn’t there.

Runa knows this better than anyone.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to beat ya down. Got past that after the first year once your Pa dragged me away from the airship ticket booth. Literally.” Rathia continues dryly, Runa physically shuddering at the thought of her mother’s unbridled rage. Drebit used to say that she was a beast when she got that mad to keep his daughters from acting out, but the grave look on his face when he said it never struck either one of them as mischievous or playful.

“Then...what brings you here, Ma? Feels strange seeing you without your glaive. It’s almost like you’re not gonna hunt anything.” Runa finally replies to her mother with a hesitant attempt at rebellious humor, which actually earns a chuckle from the older human huntress.

“Heh. Cheeky lil’ thing. Y’know, ever since you kids really got out on yer own we’ve been feeling the itch a little more often.” She muses, running a hand through the unshaven portion of her hair. She exhales through pursed lips; it’s evident that something is weighing on her. “To be honest, comin’ here wasn’t our first choice. We wanted to give ya a chance to fly on yerr own and come find us when you were ready. Thought that since ya kinda kicked off that process on yer own, you’d come back when ya thought it was time.”

“Huh.” Runa murmurs, digesting the surprising amount of parental insight it took to exercise that kind of restraint. It couldn’t have been easy to come to a conclusion like that. “So why come here? It couldn’t have been coincidence. Tarja’s too worked up for that.”

“Moga’s special, I think. I always seem to end up back here.” Rathia pauses, looking past her daughter with a distant, reminiscent gaze. “After I left home, this is the first place I settled in to stay a while and get my footing. This is where I met your father, through the fishmongress. We left for a while, only to come back and wrestle with a Ceadeus. It’s where I really started my life as a hunter. And now, thanks to Tarja telling us about a ‘surprise’...I get to see you do it too.”

“The Ceadeus, nyah...that was you?!” Baldur chimes in too, frantically glancing between his companion and her mother. “You’re famous all over the continent! You and your husband saved this village from practically falling into the ocean, nyah! Not to mention the Jhen Mohran, the Shagaru Magala...Runa, you didn’t tell me that they were your parents!”

“I...I try not to mention it.” Runa shrinks and slouches, grumbling under her breath. No matter how interesting her mother’s life might’ve been, she couldn’t shake the feeling of living deep inside of yet another shadow.

Rathia exhales forcefully through her nostrils, keenly aware of her daughter’s distance. “Aye, that we are. Yer friend there’s got good blood runnin’ through her. Just seems like she’s choosin’ not to use it. No shame in that, though.”

Runa is silent, tight-lipped and conflicted. To hear the same thing from both her mother and Baldur that she had from the registrar drops salt into a wound that refuses to close, but she can tell that there’s far more understanding behind her mother’s soft words and recounting of the past than the guild representative had.

In the background, the din of bragging and competitive barking between father and daughter begins to die down, their grandiose accounts of past hunts winding down as the everyday chatter of hungry hunters slowly returns to fill the room.

“Those two are gonna be done soon, so I’ll wrap this up for ya.” Rathia makes brief eye contact with Baldur, who catches the hint and hops off of Runa’s shoulder to listen in on the two hulking hunters trade tales.

“I was hurt when ya snuck off like that. No parent wants to wake up and see that their kid’s gone and didn’t even bother to tell ‘em. But I get it now.” Rathia sets a gentle hand on her daughter’s cheek, calloused thumb rubbing the side of her face. She chokes back a sniffle, holding in a difficult emotional war she had waged within herself since Runa left home. “I set off alone ‘fore I met your Pa. I was a gunner when I left, and now I’ve got a collection of Insect Glaives waiting for me at home. Not that you’re gonna be so simple, but...we all take a little time to figure ourselves out. Just promise me ya won’t do it alone anymore, alright? We all love ya, and we’re real happy to see ya alive and well.”

Her mother doesn’t even finish her reassuring words before her hand is wet with tears. It was tough for Runa to leave home, going into self-imposed exile to escape the searing pain of being the black sheep in a family of lions. Selfish? Definitely. But to bear the weight of a fake life and exhaust herself finding enthusiasm for something she despised felt worse than figuring out life on her own and leaving her family to carry on without her. Years she spent becoming what she thought she wanted to be, only for a single hunt to upend her hard work and bring her on a collision course with a family she left behind. Now...she had no clue who or what she was. But her mother’s kindness and reaffirmation of her love struck a chord that she wishes she had heard a few years ago.

She probably wouldn’t have even thought about leaving.

“Oi oi oi! Don’t ye go cryin’ now, ya ain’t even got on the boat good yet!” Her father’s gruff voice draws the attention of the two women back to the family’s largest member - only by a few inches, to Tarja’s constant disdain - where he stands shoulder to shoulder with the oldest daughter, both sets of thick arms folded. Tarja is the spitting image of Drebit, down to her everyday mannerisms...for better or for worse, who can say?

“O-Oh! Pa! Sorry, I think it’s the smoke in here! Those pipes are...phew!” Runa sheepishly stammers, fumbling for an excuse as she nearly punches herself in the eye to quickly wipe her tears away.

“Don’t ye worry, lass! It’s an emotional day fer me too, eh? Ta hear that mah two kiddos are off ta do a special assignment fer the Guild...that’s a real gig! Wish I had somethin’ like that at yer age! Haw haw haw!” Drebit’s delight comes at the chagrin of Runa, who can feel the eyes around the room turning back to them after her father’s joyous belly laugh.

“I was just tellin’ Pa about how I ran into ya! Ain’t seen you so banged up since ya rolled into those cactuses!” Tarja wears a bright smile, eyebrows slightly raised as if to goad the story out of her younger sister. Her eyebrows raise further at the young woman’s hesitance, and a few seconds of silence goes by before her father speaks up again.

“Aye, she was! Can’t believe ya ended up in Pokke! Talk about gettin’ far from home!”

“Y-Yeah! I dunno, something about being up in the mountains just called to me!” A white lie, but a lie nonetheless. She simply scanned a map until she found one of the more remote villages she could get to with an airship ticket. But he didn’t need to know that. “Found a cheap home to rent, made a little money here and there...then that Savage Deviljho showed up.”

Drebit nods with respect, admiring his daughter’s hard work.

“Fellin’ a Deviljho with one of those peashooters? And a Savage one at that? Yer somethin’ else! Vicious and cunning, like a Nargacuga! Well done, lass!”

“It wasn’t just me, dad. I had Baldur there too! I don’t think that I could have done it alone!” The cat perks up at the mention of his name, ears and tail standing attention as he gazes up at the monumental warrior from the floor. His tiny heart beating out of his chest, he opts to take a short bow instead. Runa had never known him to be starstruck, but she figures that it isn’t often you meet a local legend. “He’s extremely reliable!”

“Eh, I guess. Ain’t been one ta hunt with cats, so...” Drebit’s nonchalance breaks Runa’s heart, stunning the two of them as he shrugs and doesn’t even bother to acknowledge her furry partner. Just like that, the good will built up from her mother’s consoling speech is chopped at the knees. Her smile has all but vanished again, and the all-too-familiar frown reclaims its throne on her soft features.

“But that’s great! Glad he got ya through it. Now that Tarja’s here, I’m sure you two-”

“Three.” Runa spits her correction out with a hiss, disappointment weighing heavily on her furrowed brow.

“That’s what I said, aye? The two of you are gonna hafta watch each other’s backs!” Runa sighs as her father speaks; it’s not worth the effort to correct him when he gets wound up about hunting, even if it hurts to hear him talk. “There’s only two things yer gonna be able ta trust on that island - yer strength, and yerselves. So yer gonna hafta fight, and fight hard! Never quit! Yer both my flesh and blood, and I won’t accept anything...”

Tarja and Runa exchange glances briefly as their father rants and raves about his lofty expectations; the elder Wyverian seems surprised and apologetic, but all Runa can muster up is exhausted dismay. She knew this was going to happen. It’s high on the list of reasons she left, after all. Drebit’s zealous love for the hunt is admirable but overwhelming, placing great stock in accomplishments and legacy - a legacy that only Tarja seems to have the ability to fulfill.

“Ya know you’ve lost ‘em, right?” Rathia chirps with a smug smile. She throws a quick wink to her silent daughters - both of whom perk up with a bit of amusement - nudging her husband as she takes her place next to him. “Plus, ya got every eye in the inn ogling us. Ya look like you’ve lost your marbles, old man. Moreso than usual, anyway.”

Drebit seems lost as he’s pulled from his trance; the eldest Wyverian struggles to regain his train of thought before finally letting out a defeated sigh.

“I was just gettin’ ta tha good part! About how our grandkids ‘re gonna be great hunters, and they’ve gotta have stories ta pass down…” Drebit trails off, coming to the conclusion that he may never finish the rousing pep talk he thought up on the airship over. “The point is that yer gonna have to give it yer all over there, girls. I know ya can, but...call it a friendly reminder. Do us proud.”

Tarja smiles with understanding as Drebit cuts to the chase; Runa halfheartedly feigns enthusiasm with a nod hoping it would get the conversation to move somewhere else. Luckily for her, it doesn’t have to.

The entire kitchen falls silent as bells begin to jingle and tingle outside, the sharp ringing echoing through the village. The ships had come into port, and were ready to be boarded. The kitchen began to clear out, and Drebit’s jolly demeanor had returned.

“Hah! We spent all that time talkin’, didn’t even notice tha time! Go on then, lil’ kelbis!” The older man snorts, opening his arms wide like the maw of a monster for a goodbye hug. “Remember ta write or somethin’! We wanna hear all ‘bout it!”

“Yer forgettin’ somethin’. Goin’ senile in yer old age, Dre?” Rathia clears her throat, motioning toward the man’s hip pocket. He seems puzzled for a moment before snapping his fingers and digging out the coin purse - his winnings from before.

“I ain’t senile! I just got a lil’ carried away, that’s all! Yer feelin’ kinda snappy today, ain’tcha?” He cuts a side glare at his wife before holding the pouch out to his daughters. “It ain’t much, but consider yer first meal on the island on us. Figgered ya already had yer weapons, so…”

“I…” Runa looks to her sister briefly, then manages to dig up a real smile. “ We appreciate this. Thanks, Pa!”

“And don’t forget what we talked about, eh? Promise me.” Rathia whispers, and Runa nods slightly to avoid drawing suspicion.

“C’mon, c’mon! I’m too excited to stand around!” Tarja impatiently whines, giving her father the fastest bear hug possible before heading for the doorway. “We might get left behind if we don’t hurry!”

“Right, sorry!” Runa calls over her shoulder, then turns back around to embrace her father.

“Be safe, lil’ one. It was nice ta see ya again.” Drebit whispers, giving his daughter a light peck on the head before turning her loose.

“You too, dad.” Runa replies with a slow nod.

“Come ON .” Tarja shouts once more, and the younger woman darts off with Baldur hot on her heels. On her way out Runa swears she hears the distinct sound of a choked sob, but there’s no time to turn around and be sure.

Outside of the inn the crowds they had barged through earlier had become much more orderly, with a line of eager hunters and huntresses leading right to the docks. Fresh faces and old souls alike mingled, all chatting as they waited to be processed and directed into the two waiting transport ships. Behind the line, the residents of Moga waved and cheered, wishing them luck and thanking them for stopping into their humble village - and spending a little coin while they were at it. Runa can’t help but get swept into the excitement, heart racing with every step closer to the front. Heading to uncharted territory on a research assignment...what sort of wonders would she see? Not even the registrar had given them so much as a taste of what they’d find, which only added to imaginative daydreams. Fantastical monsters, beautiful blooms, magnificent landscapes - so much to see! And all with Tarja and Baldur, to boot! Life in Pokke was serene, if a bit isolated and monotonous (even if that was the intention). Perhaps the new world would be even better...

Her imagination carries her through the line and she’s gracefully set down before a man clad in the green robes of a scholar, carrying the two ledgers she saw before. The red ledger sits open in one hand and the green ledger is tucked tightly under his arm.

“Name, please.” A second registrar demands in a flat tone.

“Runa!” She replies cheerfully.

The man’s half-open, sunken eyes pore over the pages of the red ledger before he snaps it shut, realizing that her name hadn’t been signed there. One arduously slow swap later, the man scans the pages and finds her name immediately.

“Runa - you have been assigned the role of Hunter. Please board the second boat. Once everyone has been processed, you’ll be assigned a cabin and you’ll choose your Handler.”

“Sure!” She steps past the man and follows the second dock halfway down before turning to look at Baldur and Tarja. Baldur confidently strides forward to join his owner, but Tarja looks despondent. Over the din of the crowd Runa can’t quite make out what her sister is saying, but it doesn’t seem as though their discussion is going well. The talking ends as quickly as it begins, and the older Wyverian steps onto the first dock.

It takes Runa a while to understand, or perhaps she simply didn’t want to understand. Her bright smile hangs frozen but the light in her eyes has faded, like a candle snuffed by a strong gust. As Tarja catches up to her sister on the other dock, the embers run cold.

“We...we were given a different assignment. But this is just temporary! I’m gonna find you on the island, alright? I don’t care who I have to talk to! That’s a promise!” Tarja does her best to console her sister, but none of it hits Runa’s ears. Agony rings clear and true in her ears, and she finds herself short on breath as her breathing grows ragged. She can’t even bring herself to cry, only to be led into the boat by Baldur in stunned silence.

All the speeches in the world didn’t matter, in the end. She couldn’t keep her promise.

Runa is alone.

Chapter Text

“Gods...what happened yesterday?”

The salty sea air is abrasive as it crashes against Runa’s nose, freezing her face with discomfort as she has no choice but to accept the constant sting of the ocean. Her voice is soft and flat as she speaks, dull gaze fixed on the lanterns of the other transport ship in the dark - on her sister. Despite being a full day out from Moga Village, keeping her thoughts to herself did little more than make time pass more arduously than it needed to.

Baldur quickly turns away from watching the moon shimmering on the ocean’s horizon to give his attention to Runa, waiting in silence from his perch on the railing for her to continue. He spent the previous day trying everything in his bag of tricks to cheer her up and encourage her to talk, but when that well ran dry he thought it best to stay quiet. If goading her wouldn’t work, allowing her to talk on her own terms might - and it seems like it’s working.

“I let myself get swept up like a leaf in a windstorm. I wanted everything to just be...okay. And I think they did, too.” She runs a hand through curls of her hair with a grimace, self-reflective to a fault. “They wanted a quick and easy solution - say a few nice words, we all hug and move on so we don’t linger on the hurt more than we need to. And I fell face first into it.”

“You seemed pretty happy in the moment though, nyah. It’s tough to think that wasn’t what you wanted.” Baldur notes flatly with a tight-lipped frown, reminded of her father’s less than stellar acknowledgement of his hunting prowess.

“I know, and...part of me was. But apologies aren’t enough. My family may not be the ‘heart-to-heart’ type but I wanna really sit down with them, y’know? Help them understand that being sorry isn’t enough, even if it feels nice in the moment.” She pauses briefly, the slightest sardonic smile sitting tentatively on the corners of her lips.  “I want them to know I’m still hurting from back then. I want them to know that hunting isn’t everything. Sounds crazy when I say it out loud, doesn’t it?”

“Am I supposed to answer honestly, nyah?” Baldur mews, the two partners making eye contact for the first time in a day. The spark of mischief in his eyes, the slight joy in hers - the path to normalcy is paved and waiting.

“Don’t. Sounds we’re on the same page.” Runa responds quickly, drawing a chuckle from her cat companion. “But I just don’t know what to do about it, other than not blubbering like a baby. Any ideas…?”

“Don’t look at me, nyah. I didn’t exactly have a model family either. I had two other brothers and sisters, so things were always hectic. I didn’t really keep up with them after I left, but in all fairness neither did they, nyah.” The Lynian recounts with a shrug. “So...I guess if you wanna do something, you should start with your sister. At least you can get to her, nyah.”

“You’re right about that, furball.” Runa motions toward the stairs leading below deck with her head, tucking her hands under her arms. “Gods above, I can barely feel my fingers anymore. Let’s go, I don’t feel like brooding anymore. Why didn’t you tell me it was so cold?”

“You’ve been shuffling around since yesterday, nyah. People have been trying to talk to you - me included - and you sorta...didn’t.” Baldur hops down from the railing to trot next to her. “Plus, I have fur. Hardly even noticed, nyah.”

“Gotta say though...it was nice to see them again.”

“Maybe next time you’ll actually talk to them, nyah.”

The cat’s snide remark earns a cheerful grunt from his friend as they proceed down the steps into the warm underbelly of the transport ship, where the sounds of chatter, laughter and song fade in and keep the sounds of the sea out.

Runa recognizes some of the nameless faces she had previously seen in the crowd distributed through the galley as they milled about, various drunken smiles loudly chatting the night away. An unusual aroma wafts from the back of the room, where two short order cooks are hard at work haphazardly throwing ingredients into a pot of stew and serving bowl after bowl to hunters and huntresses waiting at the counter. The half-eaten bowls of “food” may sit unattended at tables but wooden steins of ale are very much cared for, each one held as though it were a prerequisite to join the merriment. High spirits and spirits to spare - that’s how her father used to describe his overseas ventures. After all, he’d continue. What else are ya supposed ta do? Yer either asleep or yer drunk - and the second one always leads to the first! Haw haw!

“Oooh! I love that song, nyah!” Baldur motions toward a group of delightfully sloven men slurring their way through a sea shanty, and the Lynian is already tapping his foot to the beat. “Hey Runyah, you mind if I…?” They aren’t Runa’s crowd in the slightest - most of the ship’s occupants weren’t, in fact - but who is she to deny her friend a good time, especially after spending a day moping around?

“Sure, go ahead. Y’know, you didn’t strike me as the singing type.” The huntress responds with a nod, looking past her felyne’s new friends to find a way to the counter that involved the least amount the least amount of contact with the cheerfully inebriated crew.

“You and Tarja never sing, nyah!” Baldur slips into the group, his off-key shouting fitting right in with the rest of the disharmonious hunters.

At least he’s having a good time… Runa thinks with a slightly pained smile, the raucous sounds of drunken laughter and caterwauling grating against her ears. It takes her a while to finish surveying the room and all of its moving parts, but her keen eye pays off - she spots a (mostly) clear path along the sides near the portholes. It makes sense to her as she inches, squirms and occasionally steps over sleeping hunters on her quest to the other end of the room - no one that’s already unsteady is gonna want to see the ocean unless they also wanted to see their beer again.

As she sits at the counter she leans forward to ask for a bowl of soup, but it’s practically flung to her before she can get a good word in. No conversation, no warmth, no personal touches - it’s piping hot, chunky slop that she swears is nothing more than dirty dish water, old Cudgel onions and the worst parts of a Scalefish all stirred together with life-threatening amounts of powdered hot peppers. The smell alone is enough to make her gag and reflexively shove the bowl back to its server.

“No wonder no one’s eating this stuff…” She grumbles, pushing the mysterious lumps around vindictively with her spoon. The more she looks at the stew the more dejected she becomes, fantasizing about pan-fried Popo tongue and Gargwa eggs on another cold morning in Pokke. Memories come pouring in - food cooked with care and made to order, the feeling of warmth that comes with everyone knowing your name, waking up in her own bed every day...her gurgling stomach whines, and she nods in silent acknowledgement.

Is this what being homesick is like? Runa broods, allowing the spoon to slip from her grip and sink further and further into the inedible grime before disappearing entirely. So much has happened already, but it hardly feels like the ‘adventure’ Tarja kept telling me it’d be…

“Is this seat open? I hope it is.” A female voice chirps, sliding her way onto the stool next to the morose huntress without waiting for an answer. “I’d sit somewhere else but everyone keeps stepping on my damn toes while they dance. It’s tough to drink and relax when my feet are swollen like puff pastries.”

“It’s not like it’s better back here. I’d rather someone bump into me all night than eat…” Runa blindly slides the bowl of sludge toward the source of the voice, stopping only she feels the bowl tap the woman’s hand. “Whatever they’re serving here.”

The reaction is delayed, but after a few quick sniffs the uninvited guest lets out a lengthy shudder. With no spoon in sight she opts to gently push the bowl back to its owner with a concerned chuckle - perhaps for the best.

“Oof!” The stranger hoots, audibly gagging. “You were not exaggerating. That stench reminds me more of week old dragon dung with a little bit of...sun-soured Moofah milk. Guess that’s why everyone’s drunk, eh?”

“Hm.” An amused snort slips from Runa as she adjusts in her seat. The woman’s crude sense of humor is infectious, and she catches herself smiling. “Weird that you know that smell so specifically, but I guess it's none of my business. So, can I help you with something? Have we met before?”

“Oh! Yes. No.” She pauses, the sound of struggled shuffling filling the silence until a scrap of paper is produced. “Er...no. You don’t know me. We’ve never met, but I’m really hoping you can help me. I’m looking for...Runa of Pokke? I’ve been asking around for a while now, and-”

“How do you know my name?” Runa jolts to attention, finally laying her weary eyes on her conversation partner. “Are you a friend of my parents or something?”

To call her battle-hardened would be selling her short. Scars creep out from beneath her white eyepatch over her left eye like cracks spreading on brown stained glass, the straps concealed by layers of unstyled platinum blonde hair and held in place with a black headband. Faded streaks across her cheeks, hints of further wounds on her shoulders - all thankfully hidden under guild-issued leather armor. Crow’s feet adorn her one good eye, the ravages of time marking her skin but doing little to dull her sharpened gaze. Her right forearm is thickly wrapped in faintly red-spotted gauze, complete with a sling across her chest. It’s clear that she went above and beyond for her spot on the boat, but the extent of her injuries leaves Runa with a bevy of probing questions that she probably shouldn’t barrage a total stranger with.

“Thank the GODS. They called all the names yesterday but you two weren’t around, so we looked like idiots. No offense to you, though. You don’t look like a total idiot.” The woman chirps rapidly, her one remaining amber eye unabashedly examining Runa. “Gotta say though...looking a little rough. You’ve got that whole ‘brooding and depressed’ look going pretty well. Sunken eyes, slouching...the works. Is that just your thing? Or maybe you’re just exhausted. Honestly, everyone here looks like they’ve been run through the mud a few times so that may not just be-”

“Slow doooooooown...” Runa groans, holding her hand out to plead for a break and process the brief but massive tidal wave of words. Whether she was right about being exhausted or not (she was), being spoken to so rudely at breakneck speeds only grinds what little patience she has left down to dust. “Gods, you talk so fast...please, for sanity’s sake just start from the beginning.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t know anything. Sorry, got a bit ahead of myself. My mom used to tell me I had a mouth faster than an angry Nargacuga - and I don’t think it’s a compliment.” She clears her throat, firmly extending her gloved hand toward Runa. “My name is Sonali of Dundorma, and I’m gonna be your Handler. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Hopefully the beasties on the island don't give you too much trouble, what with your size-”

“And what does THAT mean, huh?!” Runa yelps in a sudden outburst of unrestrained emotions, clenching her fists and ignoring the gesture. “Am I too small to have killed a Savage Deviljho? I don’t look like I can pull my weight?! Not even five minutes and you’ve insulted me twice! Absolutely-” She continues to grumble incoherently as Sonali observes with unusual interest.

“I take it back, I take it back!” Sonali coos with a sly smile. “Didn’t expect you to get so defensive. You get picked on a lot or something?”

“I-” Runa hesitates. She’s all set to blow - to let out her frustrations with the trip, how she has yet to be judged on her own merits rather than who she’s related to, her frustrations with being forced to fall in line with her family’s traditions - but she can’t get the words out. To badmouth her family behind their back leaves bitter bile in the back of her throat. It isn’t that she doesn’t love them, everyone just needs some work.

Herself included.

“Don’t change the subject. I don’t know a thing about you; you’re crazy if you think I’m gonna tell you my life story on a whim.” The young huntress deftly deflects the question to keep her worn emotions from boiling over. “So, tell me about whatever a Handler is.”

“Oho, is that how it is? I see!” Sonali glances briefly at the man behind the counter, tapping the wood twice to wordlessly signal for a beer before her attention turns back to her new partner. “So a Handler’s like...your own personal guildmarm. I’m gonna be following you everywhere, and writing everything down. According to the head guild guy, we’ll have assignments the commission needs done urgently but if we decide to do a little extra work we don’t need to get it sanctioned first - we can just do it and bill them later for our hard work. It’s a solid deal if you ask me. Find some big game and we’ll end up making some extra Zenny in the long run.”

“Uh huh.” Runa murmurs, watching the Dundorman woman take a lengthy sip of her beer with a quirked eyebrow. “Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of. That’s enough of a hassle as it is, y’know? They showed us the book I’m gonna have to carry around and-” Sonali sets the last of the drink down and sits up to mime how large the quest log is, though her slung arm does little to help her express the magnitude of the tome. “I can’t really- ah, forget it. It’s huge! Ridiculous to think that I’ve got to carry that around all time. I’d be different if it was a weapon, but...”

“You seem to be the only one complaining, though. I hadn’t heard a peep about it before you mentioned it.” Runa jabs her Handler with a slight sneer, volleying return fire for the jokes about her appearance before. “Imagine having all those scars and complaining about a big book, huh?”

Rude, but boy did it feel good!

“Jeez, talk about snippy. Didn’t realize I was talking to a Ceanataur. I’ll have you know I worked my ass off for these.” She rolls her eyes, leaning back against the counter with a huff. Her gaze turns toward the drunken hunters and huntresses, watching them blissfully sing and dance to their heart’s content. She murmurs something about her stomach aching, but at best it’s a half-hearted attempt to cover her becoming mesmerized by the excitement before her.

Runa can’t help but look in the same direction, even if it makes her feel uneasy to do so. Song after song, steps and stumbles, jokes and laughter...it all looked like tons of fun. She could be having the time of her life out there with Baldur, yowling along with everyone until her throat went hoarse. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to get out of her stool to even try and do the same.

Tarja is probably having the time of her life on that other boat. I’ll bet she’s singing all those raunchy songs, drinking the guys under the table… Runa purses her lips, face twisting and distorting as she tries to get a grip on her feelings. I wish I could have that kind of fun. It just doesn’t feel...right to join them. Why can’t I?

The young woman breaks away from people watching to briefly steal a glance at Sonali. Even though she can only see the side of her face covered with the eyepatch, the expression she wears is all too familiar. That contemplative frown, how tightly she grips the beer mug, the way she chews at her cheek - they both appear to share the same amount of anxiety and uncertainty.

I guess the better question is...why can’t she?

“Hey, Runa.” Sonali shifts in her seat so she can see her partner again, setting the empty mug back on the counter and breaking the silence between them. “I don’t like apologizing, but...I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, so I might’ve been a little meaner than I meant to. Lemme do this whole meeting thing over again, but...nicer.”

“Sure, I...yeah.” Runa murmurs with a slight nod. She understands; the outburst not even a few minutes ago still feels foreign and raw, unfamiliar with the concept of being so openly aggressive. It’s like a different person leapt out her skin kicking and shrieking, knowing that after laying dormant under the surface for so long it’d get its fleeting time in the spotlight. She can tell she needs a break or at least a second to collect her thoughts in familiar territory, but this ride appears to have no end in sight. “I got a little out of hand too, so we’ll call it even. Do you...wanna talk about it? It could be good for both of us! Y’know, since we’re working together and everything it might be nice to get to know each other a little better...”

The offer stuns Sonali for a moment, who appears to briefly consider the suggestion before wagging her finger at Runa with a crooked smile.

“Ah ah ah! What was it you said? ‘I don’t know anything about you; you’re insane if you think I’m gonna tell you all about me’ or something like that?” She quips, nostrils flaring with indignation. The surprisingly kind offer on the heels of their previously rough conversation leaves Sonali reeling, playing emotional defense to keep Runa out. She can’t remember the last time someone asked about her, and it shows. How dare she be so damn nice, catching her when she’s emotionally compromised?! “Works both ways, kid. Nice try though! You almost had me.”

“Oh come on, don’t give me that.” The hesitation from Sonali gives Runa the chance to press the advantage, seizing on the small window of weakness to dig further into a kindred (if somewhat guarded) spirit. “We can’t work well together if I don’t know anything about you. At least tell me about the scars. Those can’t be too personal, right?”

“Gods above.” Sonali hisses breathlessly, chuckling as she rubs her jaw. She knows she’s stuck now, cornered in their banter battle. Each set of scars had a story unique to them, which made telling every story that much more fun to do - and she knows once that avalanche starts there’s no way to turn it back around. Plus turning her down now would be cold, and she didn’t have it in her to say no.

Runa smirks confidently as her Handler’s head sways from side to side in thought, knowing that victory is firmly within her grasp. A perfectly executed riposte hidden under the veil of friendship had disarmed her Handler, leaving her cornered.

“Fine, I’ve got a few stories I can share. Three things though, and they’re important. First: I will NOT answer questions about my eye. No exceptions.”

“Aw man, that one’s the most interesting…” Runa murmurs, making no effort to hide her disappointment. “And the second one? Let me guess: no questions about the arm, too?”

“Oh no, the arm’s my favorite so far!” She exclaims with delight, eye bright with joy as she speaks. “That one's definitely on the table, for sure. I was gonna say that we should talk outside. I’m starting to sweat, and I’m gonna melt if I stay in here any longer!”

“That’s an easy one, okay! Gimme the third one too-” Runa slides off of the stool to oblige her Handler, but as her feet hit the floorboards she stumbles. Something under her feet shifts and throws off her balance, but a quick scan of where her feet hit the floor doesn’t reveal anything at all - nary a spilled drink to be seen or anything else that could have caused her to trip (at least not near her feet). Looking around the room Runa only spots a few other hunters that appeared mildly concerned by the sudden jolt, the others too drunk to think that their loss of balance might’ve been done by something other than their overindulgence.

“Did you feel that, Runa?” Sonali slides off of the stool cautiously, making sure that her footing is steady as she strides purposefully toward a porthole to find...nothing, again. Runa follows close behind, searching for any sort of explanation for the sudden tremor that rocked the ship out of a different porthole. It was too much to be the regular churning of the seas, but aside from the other transport ship there’s nothing to be seen. The skies are clear, the moon illuminating what little there is to see in the middle of the night.

“I did, but I don’t see anything.” She responds quickly, backing away from the porthole. Even if she couldn’t see anything, her gut said be on guard. That kind of quaking isn’t natural.

“Runyah!” Baldur comes bounding from within the crowd calling for his friend, scrambling up her leg to his usual perch on her shoulder. He’s disheveled and out of breath, but battle-ready all the same. “Tell me...tell me you felt that too, nyah?”

“I did, yeah. Oh Baldur, real quick - this is Sonali. She’s our Handler.”

“Handler?” Baldur inquires briskly.

“I’ll give you the full explanation later. Nice to meet ya.” Sonali’s response is curt and hyperfocused, and before she finishes she’s already shouldering past oblivious drinkers taking the direct path back to the stairs. “Let’s go talk to the Dragonwatcher, they might’ve seen something.”

The deck above is eerily empty with not a hunter or guild representative in sight, only the inky expanse of the ocean at their backs and the other transport ship distantly at their side. Nothing appears to be amiss among the gentle waves, which only served to confuse the three of them further. They all know they felt something , but with no source to speak of their anxiety only deepens.

“Hey! Hey up there!” Sonali squawks up the mast to the crow’s nest, a small Felyne’s head peeking over to check the disturbance. “Have you seen anything...uh...weird out there? At all? Y’know, something...” She trails off, furrowing her brow as she looks to Runa. “Gimme a hand here, guys. I don’t know how to phrase this because...y'know, what ARE we looking for?”

“I mean, asking if he felt the tremor would be a good start.” Baldur chimes in slowly, confusion plain on his face. “Did you forget that quickly? Runa, where’d you find this one?”

“Of course I didn’t forget! I just didn’t know how to say it!” Sonali spits angrily, quickly covering up her embarrassment with aggression. “Watch yourself, eh?”

Rather than engage with the two of them in their bickering Runa steps forward to take over, cupping her hands around mouth to increase her volume without straining her voice.

“Did you feel that tremor earlier? Did you get a signal from the other boat that they might’ve felt it?”

“I haven’t seen anything from them, nyah!” The lookout Felyne pauses to take out a small brass telescope to check on the other boat’s Felyne and confirm his statement. “Nope! It’s quiet on their end. But I felt that shaking, nyah! Made me bump my head real hard!”

“I’m sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, nyah! Or maybe not, I dunno. I’ve been seeing weird shapes in the water since I hit my head, nyah. I should probably come down, but we’re not far from the island nyah-ow. I’ll just get myself checked out...” The tiny voice fades out, disappearing back into the crow’s nest to resume his work.

Runa looks to her comrades with dismay, offering them a defeated shrug that Sonali and Baldur had no choice but to accept. That sort of rocking without explanation left them feeling uneasy, but without a lead to go on they had no choice to accept that perhaps they were making a big to do over nothing.

“Well since we’re already here...” Sonali takes a few steps back to confidently lean against the banister, her one functioning arm open wide. “Ask away! You wanted to know about the scars, didn’t you? Which one’s got you curious?”

“Hmmm…” Runa takes her time thinking and deciding, stroking her chin as she examines the woman’s legacy of wounds. In a way she’s reminded of looking at her father, one of the few people she’s seen amass so many scars and not be a faint breeze away from death’s door. Their strength and willpower are admirable - from a distance, of course. The only scar she’s got is hidden beneath the fluffy curls of her hair, and that’s how it’s going to stay as far as she’s concerned.

“I can’t believe you even have to think about this, nyah!” Baldur grunts impatiently, casually leaping from Runa’s shoulder to look her in the eyes. “We both know you’re gonna ask about the arm! C’mon, it’s still fresh!”

“Okay, okay!” Runa smiles at her cat companion, letting her hand fall from her chin to rest on her hip. “Y’know, even if you’re right it was still my question to ask. She hardly even knows you.”

“The arm it is, then! Get ready, because this one’s a real doozy.”

Sonali takes her time clearing her throat - whether it’s exaggerated for dramatic or humorous effect, neither Baldur or Runa can say for sure - before she steps away from her spot against the railing and assumes her place on ‘stage’, like an actor preparing for their monologue.

“So I just happened to be in Cathar for some Mistentoe tea - delicious by the way, flowery and subtle - when things start getting weird. The skies start to darken with thick clouds as dark as pitch, and some hysterical kids come tumbling down the mountain screaming about a weird looking Gore Magala. Naturally I demanded to go in place of the villager’s hunters so they wouldn’t have to worry about burying any of their own - at a premium of course.” There’s a hint of gleeful self-satisfaction in her voice, as if she relishes that detail in particular. “I was there on break, after all. So I had to get all the way up Heaven’s Mount with a Gunlance strapped to my back, and lemme tell ya...”

“She put the squeeze on the Cathar villagers? That seems sorta...I dunno, scummy, right? Maybe it's just me. They’re real simple, spiritual folk, it just doesn’t feel right...” Baldur whispers to Runa as Sonali describes her treacherous climb. Runa nods slightly with tacit understanding, eyes fixed on their Handler to keep from interrupting. How much more could the villagers of Cathar give her that the guild couldn’t after the fact?

“...and at the top? The biggest damn Chaotic Gore Magala you’ve ever seen!” Sonali holds her arm above her head and hops, exaggerating the beast’s already enormous size. “And it’s beautiful, in that weird sorta way. The dark void of the Gore’s claw followed up by the shimmering scales of the Shagaru’s...ferocious. Damn thing was relentless, even poked holes in my shield! Guess that’s what I get for using Gypceros materials, but in my defense the rubbery hide absorbs impacts better and makes blocking easier on me. It was rough, but I had it under control until…”

She holds her arm out in front of her, the small crimson splotches only giving hints of how much worse the wound was before being wrapped.

“Gore got really desperate, so it decided to fight a little smarter. Ended up blindsiding me; kicked up some dust, then let loose with a powerful blast of that blight stuff while I was coughing my lungs out. Broke my shield into bits, dented my armor to hell...and that wasn’t even the worst of it. It blindly swiped around in the dust until it got a good grip on me, and nearly crushed me as it smashed me against the wall. But I held that gunlance TIGHT ‘cause all I had left was that Wyvern Fire, and you know what I did?!”

Sonali takes a hard step forward toward Runa with a bold grin, leaving her on her heels as she takes an equal step backwards to avoid bumping the wounded arm. The entire ship seems to rock with her bombastic performance as she relives the exhilaration of her near-death experience.

“I held that busted gunlance as tightly as I could, even with the metal shards from my shield digging into my arm-”

The Handler takes another powerful step forward, leaning in to close the distance between her and her audience of one despite the anxiety painted plainly on Runa’s face. The ship begins to buckle and creak more harshly than it did before, but Baldur is the only one of the three to call it out. The Felyne in the crow’s nest points out something unidentifiable lurking in the water and the upper deck begins to fill with confused and concerned hunters, some even brandishing surplus weapons in an attempt to prepare themselves for whatever was shaking the ship.

But Sonali and Runa are trapped in their own world, grappling with a monster of their own design.

“And as that poor bastard roared right in my face, I primed the Wyvern Fire to let loose everything that hunk of junk could muster. That thing reared back to try and get a bite outta me and when I let that trigger go-”

Runa unexpectedly bumps into a hunter out searching for the source of the attack as she walks backwards, giving Sonali the chance to loom over her the way the Chaotic Gore Magala had once threatened her not even a couple weeks ago. Their tense gazes are locked with rapt attention as they freeze - Runa overwhelmed by the intensity of the display, Sonali engulfed by the excitement of re-imagining a harrowing hunt.

A single word leaves Sonali’s lips, and is quickly drowned out as all hell breaks loose. The ship is split in half as a gargantuan beast of blackened molten rock emerges from the depths of the ocean floor, streams of magma zigzagging all over its body like brightly illuminated veins. Its focus is forward to something none of the hunters can see, the slow and steady marching toward its goal undeterred by the minuscule shrieks and screams of the hunters whose lives it just upended. No one knows what it is, where it came from or where it’s going, all hunters not already violently flung into the ocean wildly searching for an intact lifeboat to get them in safely.

As the three of them struggle to regain their bearings Sonali’s final word rattles around in Runa’s head - not for its significance, but for how simply it managed to capture the sudden upheaval of their journey.

“Boom.”

Chapter Text

“What in the name of the gods is THAT?!” Runa shrieks, hands darting out to hold the railing and brace herself as the enormous beast takes yet another step. Her death grip and quick thinking keeps her steady, wide eyes locked squarely on the rocky spines of the lumbering beast. Other bewildered hunters don’t find themselves so lucky, dropping into the waters below.

Her mother used to tell her stories about monsters this size in the old world and the destruction they caused, along with the incredible teamwork it took to bring them down. ‘Harbingers of Calamity’, she used to call them. Wherever they went death was hot on their heels...and under them as well.

Their appearances are supposed to be rare, but Runa doesn’t feel very lucky.

“That right there is a walking meal ticket! Hah! Ha ha ha!” Sonali wears a wild, almost maniacal grin as she takes in what information she can from just looking at the beast’s back. “We bag that bad boy and we’re swimming in zenny! We’d be set for life ! C’mon, let’s get up there!”

“And how do you propose we do THAT, nyah?! We’ve got no weapons, no resources-“ Baldur starts to list off everything wrong with Sonali’s maniacal idea, only to turn and see that she’s moved on to scrounging up what she can from what remains of the ship. “Gods damn it, you’re not even gonna try to work out a plan first? The ship is sinking and the first thing you mention is money, nyah!”

“We don’t have the luxury to plan something out, Baldur!” Runa releases her grip, tearing herself away from the monster to exchange fearful expressions with her longtime companion before turning her attention to what was left of the deck. “Either we pray to the gods that someone brings a lifeboat back around, or we have a nice chat about our next steps after we’ve hitched a ride on that thing. I know what I’m gonna do.”

Baldur grimaces; that water looked too cold to swim or even tread water in, on top of what else might be lurking under the surface. Even if their other option was far worse, it’d have a better chance of success if they acted fast.

“You’re lucky I hate to swim, nyah.” Baldur darts to the bow of the ship to rummage through barrels and boxes with Runa in tow, allowing useless tools and supplies slide into the waters below as they dig for something, anything-

“I’ve got something! Move it, move it!” Sonali’s head pops up from inside of a crate, waving to her comrades with urgency. As they get closer, she pulls out her discovery: an arm mounted slingshot multitool. It’s a foreign contraption - that much is certain to the three of them - but the grappling hook and thickly banded rope loaded into them told Sonali everything they needed to know.

”It’s called a Slinger, some kind of Commission invention. I stopped paying attention after they told me they were for hunters only, but not before they mentioned that it’s got a grappling hook.” The veteran huntress tosses the device to Runa, who quickly straps it to her wrist. She struggles briefly to get the Slinger on her wrist with one arm, but manages. “Sorry Baldur, they don’t make ‘em cat-sized. You’ll have to hang on to Runa for this next part.”

“Next part, nyah? What’s-“ Baldur attempts to inquire further, but once again Sonali takes off to avoid wasting time. Without hesitation she shoots the hook to the top of the mast, using it to fling herself up to the crow’s nest and get a better shot at the craggy rocks along the beast’s side and spine.

“Follow my lead! We’ll be legends when we get out of this!” The Handler’s bravery - or perhaps foolhardiness - is daunting to her younger partner, who watches with awe as she crouches back and springs forward with all her might.

She leaps out like a majestic bird of prey, flight unimpeded by her injured wing. At the height of her jump she launches the grapple again, and the clinking of the metal hook catching on an indent pierces the din of the ship’s collapse - success! She cushions her impact against the beast’s back by curling up and bracing, allowing the brunt of the pain to hit her unwrapped arm. All that’s left now is to focus on the climb, making slow and steady upward progress rather than hanging and waiting for Runa to follow her.

“Ready, Baldur?” Runa raises her arm to aim the slinger, using her other arm to steady her aim as the ship begins to tilt and wobble after taking on too much water. He doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t bother to wait for him. Time is of the essence, and she’s certain he’s gonna yowl her ear off about it later. It’s like using a Bowgun! A very, very light bowgun that...yanks you around. Just aim and-

An awful crackling sound hits her ears and shakes her her concentration, the rapidly deteriorating ship deck giving way under her feet. The mast is too heavy for what’s left of the deck, and the broken wood begins to give under the stress - taking the ship with it. Runa scrambles toward the front of the ship as it goes head up, using the slinger to hook the railing and yank herself up onto the ship’s prow.

“Oh gods, Baldur-” She hisses frantically, looking between the encroaching sea and her slowly withdrawing escape route. “I-I don’t think I can make the shot. The bowsprit isn’t tall enough, even with an arc I’m more likely to land in the water at this distance…”

“Runa I’ve seen you hit some crazy shots with Tar-nyah in your face - I know you can do it! Take the shot before we both drown, nyah!” Baldur shakes Runa’s shoulder, claws unintentionally digging in tightly as he braced for another high-speed trip. She can’t stand how much better everyone seems to know her than she knows herself, but it plagues her with an unusual thought as she clambers up the bowsprit - what if everyone else is right about her just having a ‘knack’ for the hunt that she’s going out of her way to repress? Somehow this bout of self-doubt feels worse than the last, if only due to how deeply the repression had permeated every aspect of her life…

At the tip of the sinking ship Runa weighs her options in silence, tuning out Baldur’s frightened chatter to regain her focus. Launching the slinger’s hook now would be like rolling the dice; she’d have to hope and pray both that the beast stays within range for her hook to connect and that it stays lodged in as she zips to safety. The only other option would be to aim higher and swing, but there’s no telling that she’d be able to land the hook properly from this distance. Unless-

The young huntress leaps out, pushing off from the bowsprit as hard as she can with her arms outstretched before she fires the grappling hook as far out as it will go; a leap of faith. Propelling herself into the unknown with an act of blind trust, her eyes closed she floats in limbo. The sounds of the sea, Baldur’s yowling and screaming, the broken ship - it all fades into nothing. All she can hear is her heart, thumping and pounding against her chest like a rampaging Gammoth as she drifts in silence. With her breath held and fists clenched, the world itself seems to grind to a halt...only to pick back up as the hook’s rope goes taut.

Her arm follows suit - painfully so, in fact - but it’s a good sign nonetheless. The world comes rushing back in all at once, kickstarting her senses as she and her Palico are drawn upward and away from the wreckage. She can’t help but shout with excitement as she’s hurtling through the air. After all, how often can she say that she’s soaring and she’s not on the receiving end of a monster claw?

The beast’s hide comes up fast but she’s ready, her two hands latching onto the warm rock face with ease. A few gulps of much needed air later Runa starts her ascent up the monstrous spines, Baldur hopping off to complete the climb without being a burden on Runa. He tries to squeak out a thank you, but his throat is entirely too hoarse to do anything other than croak. It’s enough, he decides.

Sonali wears an almost exaggerated grin, looking down to her partner with a nod of respect. It was like watching a good work of theater, rooting for the underdog the whole way through.

“Whoa there, little lady! Bold jump!” Sonali whistles affectionately. She wants to give her a thumbs up, but reminds herself that she still doesn’t have two arms. Excitement clouds her mind from time to time, and as she returns to the climb she’s reminded of why she needs to keep a level head - she can feel a faint dampness on the inside of her sling. Even if it hasn’t stained her gauze, a few loose stitches doesn't bode well.

“Heh. Thanks!” She shouts back with an uncertain smile. Between improvising to bring down the Deviljho and now this, doing what feels natural seems to work out far better for her than she ever could have imagined. Instinct guides her actions like a leaf in the breeze, but only when she opens herself to it. It seems so easy, yet that feeling of resentment and frustration just thinking about hunting lingers like a rancid stench. The repetitive motion of climbing leaves her free to probe her thoughts, but no matter how hard she tries the answer remains just out of reach.

Why does it feel so natural, but still so terrible?

Climbing the beast is an arduous task, and after minutes of climbing they manage to hit a plateau on its hip. Getting halfway up the monster’s side doesn’t feel like much progress when they look up to see just how much more there is.

“Can we talk about a plan nya-ow ?” Baldur flops onto his back to try and bring his heart rate down and relax, finding comfort on the warm obsidian stone that one could easily forget belongs to a giant elder dragon. “Pulling a stunt like that and hitching a ride on an elder dragon...we’re lucky to not be dead, nyah. I just...need a second. Phew…”

“In a minute, cat. I’d rather talk about how great my little hunter is! Whoo!” Sonali hoots, giving the young huntress a hearty slap on the back. She’s beaming from the spectacle, the same intensity in her eyes as when she was weaving her tale on the ship. “When that mast tumbled I thought for sure you’d be treading water right now. Your finesse, my brains - we’re gonna top of the heap on that island. Research be damned; if you can do that with a monster we’re gonna live like queens!”

“Aren’t you asking a lot of a someone you barely know?” Runa inquires over her shoulder, ignoring the dull throb of pain from the eager - but still clearly celebratory - whack. Rather than turning to look at Sonali, her eyes are back on the transport ship. She knows her sister has to be a face on the ship’s crowded deck but the details are unrecognizable, some gawking up at the monster while others are rifling through crates and shouting at one another. It isn't until she watches them push cannons into position that she realizes they don’t know that anyone had thought to actually ride the monster. Yet another wrinkle in an already complicated situation.

“I’m just asking you to do the hunting. As long as you leave the rest to me, you’ll never need to worry about zenny again! Hoo hoo, all the money we’ll make…” Sonali practically salivates at the thought, watching the beast’s head bob with every thunderous step. There’s no wall in the world where she could mount a head like that, but why stop at just a wall? The head of an unknown monster would make for one hell of a tourist attraction. Benevolence rarely pays well.

“Doubt we’ll make any money if the Commission’s cannons blow us sky high, Sonali!” Runa’s voice cracks with urgency, watching the ship’s organized chaos with a concerned frown. “They don’t know we’re up here. This is bad. Real, real bad. We need to find a way down and-”

“Down? Noooo no no! Definitely not! We can’t let someone else have this! Not when we’ve come this far!” Sonali turns and fires back angrily, pointing backward at the beast’s head. “Listen to me - chances like these don’t come around that often! ”

“You can't be serious. Staying here is suicide, nyah!” Baldur scrambles to his feet, looking between his friend and his Handler frantically. “A monster this big isn’t going anywhere fast, we can easily come back to it when we’re prepared!”

Sonali’s nostrils flare furiously, teeth grinding behind tightly pursed lips. Upset doesn’t even begin to describe her feelings. Irrational, unsubstantiated anger running through her veins like the orange lava flowing in streaks across the beast’s body. Of course the Commission had to be the one to ruin this for her. Who puts hunters on a ship and doesn't arm them?

“But-”

“We’re out of our depth, Sonali! ” Runa shouts sternly, storming toward the woman and throwing her hands up in frustration. “I’m not ready to be blown to bits by high powered cannons, or  squashed by rocks! And even if I wanted to take whatever this is down - which I don’t - do you honestly think it’s worth it to try to do this with our bare hands?!”

“It’s an uphill battle sure, but with a little clever thinking -”

The sound of thunder makes the three of them jolt, attention snatched away toward the ship to find the tell-tale smoke of a fired cannon. None of them notice the salvo of explosives sail over their heads until it erupts into a shower of foul-smelling gunpowder and debris against the beast’s thick, rocky hide. The noise is enough to briefly deafen the three hunters, leaving them struggling between clutching their ears and holding on to any bit of rock they can to steady themselves as their platform begins to come to life.

If the cannon fire hadn’t already made their ears ring, the Elder Dragon’s ear-splitting roar following it likely would have. Rather than deterring the beast, they had only succeeded in making it extremely upset. The streaks of lava running along the titan flare up with fury, banishing the murky darkness of the night and replacing it with its own menacing orange glow. Previously hidden openings erupt, spewing thick billows of smoke and sending molten boulders tumbling down into the ocean. Runa thanks her lucky stars that the first avalanche passes them by harmlessly, but she knows this spot isn’t about to get any safer with successive eruptions.

“Up! Climb up!” Runa shouts and points to a nearby incandescent rock face, lava slowly oozing through the cracks in the once dormant wall. Sonali begrudgingly nods and launches the hook up the wall, using it to quickly scale the beast by launching herself upward and quickly grabbing onto any indent she can before she loses her progress. Even without her other arm, the dexterity she shows in leaping up the wall with barely more than a stumble is spectacular for Runa to watch.

The further they climb the angrier the titan becomes, with unspeakably massive quakes sending boulders hurtling not only past Runa but dangerously close to Tarja’s transport ship. Despite the odds clearly being stacked against them ship quickly moves to set up the next volley of shots, all hands on deck either preparing the cannons, loading the cannonballs or turning the ship to maintain a safe distance and avoid being hit by falling rocks. They’re a finely-tuned hunting machine, years of collective experience coalescing into a small but formidable maritime fighting force.

Knowing that the next series of shots could be unintentionally aimed directly at them gives Baldur deathly chills.

“Are those...Mernos circling, nyah? How high up ARE we?!” Baldur shouts, attention split between watching to see if they’re in the cannon’s path and looking above to warn for falling rocks. Runa’s in no position to respond, but it does get the gears turning in her head on ways to escape from the back of the beast. To have such a ridiculous idea even pop into her head makes her cringe enough as it is, but she can’t blame Sonali or anyone else this time - it’s all her.

“Cannon fire incoming! Hang on!” Sonali warns brusquely, pressing herself tightly against the wall as a another barrage of cannon fire collides with the beard-like stalactites dangling from its chin. Runa grips the rock the best she can as the gargantuan beast reels and bellows a full-throated howl of pain, fighting the urge to cover her ears and dull the intense ringing. Its own stony hide can barely stand up to the powerful roar, magma bubbling out of newly formed cracks like a fountain. The cliff side becomes a minefield of lava, forcing her hand and foot placements become more calculated knowing that chipped stone could to give way to a deluge of scalding liquid.

“I swear this has to be the worst decision I’ve ever made,” The weary huntress grumbles, crouching down before springing upward to haphazardly snag another tenuous handhold. Her fingertips are all but numb, the heat and the tightness of her grip leaving her soot-dusted knuckles ashen white. “I pack up and leave Pokke to try and spend some time with my sister and now I have to climb the world’s angriest mountain. Tarja owes me big.”

“Don’t worry, we’re almost at the top nyah! You can talk to her all you want once we’re off this damn...hellbeast.“ Baldur lingers on the monster’s new moniker, a slight tremble in his voice. ”S-Speaking of Tar-nyah, have you figured out what to say-”

“Hey, how do you manage to pick the worst time to ask me about family stuff? I’m a little too busy to get emotional,” Runa snarls, silencing her friend with a scowl. “Unless you want me to let go of this wall while I wipe my eyes. Totally up to you.”

The felyne goes silent immediately, lips squeezed shut as he struggles to swallow a hefty lump in his throat. He looks out into the restless sea, black and orange waves violently wrestling and clashing against the monster from a height too far to accurately measure. The cat opts to stay silent for the last leg of the climb; no sense in prodding an angry Arzuros.

The leathery wing flaps of the Mernos are gradually added to the cacophony of noise in the area as Runa pulls herself up and over the edge, the agitated wingdrakes nearly bumping into each other as they screech at the monster that had interrupted their peaceful flight. Below them Sonali stares at the beast’s head, continuing to dip to and fro with every lumbering step forward. She clears her throat as Runa and Baldur approach, wordlessly demanding attention from them.

“Y’know, I had a bit of time to think on the way up. It’s probably best of we abandon this thing for now.” She states calmly, stroking her chin. “I’m not giving up on this, though. I don’t care if we have to follow this thing to the ends of the earth. We’re gonna get geared up, we’re gonna take it down, and we’re gonna sell every last scrap. I’ll even split the money with you 60 - 40. 40 should be plenty, considering its size.”

“Ignoring the fact that you stole my idea, 60 - 40 is an awful split if I’m doing all the hard work...especially with your arm still wrapped up.” She runs her hands through her once fluffy hair and grimaces; feeling the dust and debris tangled up in her locks makes her physically cringe. “I don’t have the patience for this right now, honestly. I want a warm bath, I want to eat food that isn’t just dung in a bowl, I want to talk to my sister...and I never want to see this thing again.”

“You...have a sister? You never mentioned her.” The Dundorman woman pauses briefly, awkward hesitation in her twisted expression as she struggles with her words. “She wasn’t...on our ship, was she?”

“No no, she’s on the other ship firing cannons at us. And I tend not to mention her because I’m REAL sick of being compared to her.”

“Your sister’s a real hotshot, huh? Who is she?” Sonali pauses to give Runa a chance to speak, only to be stopped with a single finger. “Actually...don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know. I do better work when I don’t know the odds.”

“I...don’t understand what you mean.” Runa’s brow furrows, eyes narrowing. “What are you working on?”

“I see a way where we both get what we want here. Your sister’s a big deal, right? Then why not knock her down a peg by making a name for yourself on this trip? Give people a reason to think of you rather than her. Plus, people tend not to talk down to you when they see you as an equal.”

“That’s enyahough!” Baldur howls boldly, stepping in to speak on behalf of a speechless Runa. “I didn’t say anything when mew told that pawful story about shaking down those Cathar villagers, but I won’t let you pit sister against sister for a few extra zenny. Gods above, you’re a horrible person!”

“Oooh, a little mad huh? Look,” Sonali crouches down to be eye level with the felyne, her cold gaze meeting with his righteous indignation. “You’re free to hunt for respect, hunt for fun, whatever. I don’t care why you hunt. But at the end of the day everyone needs money, and I’m looking out for me. And that’s what makes this deal great: I book some hunts that’ll get her standing shoulder to shoulder with her sister, do a little extra negotiating here and there and we all split the money. It beats gathering herbs all day.”

“You’re talking about putting her in unnyah-ecessary danger so she can fight with her sister rather than talk about what’s she’s going through! Tell her, Runyah! Tell her how ridiculous she sounds!”

Both sets of eyes rest expectantly on the young woman and her contemplative expression as she chews her cheek in silence. Runa could never fight with her sister; she’s simply upset, and it’s not even directed at Tarja. If people would stop bombarding her with how much better her sister is, she wouldn’t even be  this upset. But she can’t do that with the hunting record she has now.

Maybe a little extra effort wouldn’t hurt.

“...how about we focus on getting off this rock instead? I have an idea involving those wingdrakes, but it’s a little crazy.”

Sonali grins brightly, patting an extremely displeased Baldur on the head as she stands back up and nods slowly.

“That’s what I like to hear, partner.”

Chapter Text

Dawn breaks, sunlight trickling through whatever openings in the dense overgrowth it can sneak through. Coarse sand crunches under Runa as she stirs herself awake with an ugly gurgle, exhaling through her nostrils and breathing in a mixture of musty ocean air and earthy pines. She can’t even muster up the strength to be bewildered at her new surroundings, let alone pull her feet away from the tide gently lapping at her feet. instead she fights her body’s urge to rest, struggling to slowly sit up and shake the sand out of her hair.

“Baldur…? Sonali? Where’d you two-”  

A deep yawn interrupts her question and she opts instead to turn around and discover the answer to her question on her own. Through squinted eyes she spots her comrades, backs turned to watch the forest’s features fade into view with the rising sun.

“Hey! Hey hey, where are we? Guys? Did we make it?” Runa clambers to her feet and shuffles away from the shore, shaking as much sand as she can out of her tangled and knotted hair. “And who let me sleep on the beach? The sleep was nice but my back is killing me…”

“Sounds like princess is back from her dirt nap, cat.” Sonali turns before Baldur does, watching the sleepy huntress for a moment before turning her attention down to the soaked bandages clinging to her wounded arm. “Welcome back, Runa.”

“I have a name.” The Felyne hisses under his breath before trotting up to greet his friend. “I thought it was best, nyah. You swam pretty far after the Mernos came up a little short, so Sonali and I slept in shifts to keep watch when you laid down to take a breather, nyah.”

“Oh right, yeah. I appreciate that, I guess I didn’t realize how tired I was…”

“Now that you’re up we can get moving. I saw a path over this way that seems pretty well worn, might be worth checking out. C’mon.” Sonali motions further up the beach with a nod, taking the lead as Runa and Baldur follow hot on her heels.

“I hope we’re in the right place because I would love to come back and explore this forest! It’s so beautiful, I’ve never seen flowers like these before!” With every step Runa grows more enamored with her surroundings, taking in the lush sights and fragrant scents of foreign blooms. “Sonali hang on a sec, I just wanna-”

“No time for flower picking, Runa. We’ve got a job to do, and unless you’re a botanist and not a hunter then I don’t think this is it.” The older woman is cold in her response, squashing her partner’s curiosity like an annoying pest. “You wanna get a leg up on your sister? You’re gonna need to start acting like a professional. Let’s talk weapons - what are you using?”

“Aw, but…” She whispers with disappointment, biting her lip in silence. The soft crunching of leaves and sticks fills in the idle time while Runa tries her hardest to avoid even peeking at the vibrant flora that dots the edges of the path. “I...I use the Light Bowgun. Everyone’s told me I’m a good shot.”

“I had a feeling you’d say either that or the Bow. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you know how to use that thing? You seemed pretty adamant about making sure I knew that you killed that Savage Jho on the boat, so…”

“She sure can, nyah. Took that Jho down in a blizzard with just the two of us and a trap. She saved the whole village of Pokke!” Baldur meows his way into the conversation on his friend’s behalf, flashing her a brief ‘thumbs up’ sign. “It’s how we met! She came up with this bold plan and got it done even when the other hunter backed out at the last second. She didn’t even ask for money, she just saw someone in need!”

“The whole village, huh?” She quirks an eyebrow, lips pursed with an amused smile. “That’s pretty hefty for charity work, isn’t it?”

“I mean maybe, yeah. But Shirley - er, the Pokke Guild representative - was so upset about the whole thing...there was no way I could take any money from them.” Runa explains with a nonchalant shrug. “I saw someone in need, and I helped. Isn’t that what hunters do?”

“That’s how they sell it to you, sure. The more you hunt ‘out of the goodness of your heart’ or ‘to protect the weak’, the less the Guild has to pay out to the people that actually deserve it.” Sonali forces a laugh at Runa’s expense to avoid becoming too frustrated, but even that ends in an exasperated sigh. “Don’t get the wrong idea - I think your charity’s sweet, just ridiculously misguided and counterproductive. I wish I could be as naive as you again, makes me miss being a kid...” 

“Hey!” Baldur bounds ahead of Runa to face Sonali, fur bristling with frustration as he trots backwards. “She does hunts for free because she’s got a good heart, and it pays off for her in other ways. She might not be rich, but she’s happy! No need to be so cynical, nyah.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. Kindness only gets you so far, but a fat sack of zenny? Grease the right palms and you can go anywhere you want. And I can tell you from experience,” She rubs the side of her face absently, gloved fingers brushing against the web of scars creeping out from under her eyepatch, “that not having it causes a hell of a lot more problems.”

“Maybe so, but those problems aren’t her problems, nyah. You might’ve had it rough with money, but-”

“Don’t start with me and money, Baldur. Not a story either of us need to get into.” Sonali scowls, kicking up a little dust into the Lynian’s face with a mean-spirited chuckle. “Alright cat, I’m tired of going around in circles with you. Runa! Let’s lay out the ground rules for our partnership. At least that’ll be a productive conversation.”

“Uh huh, uh huh.” Runa murmurs with a curt nod, picking up her pace to walk shoulder to shoulder with her Handler. “I’m ready. Whatcha got?”

“Nothing too serious, not trying to over-complicate this.” Sonali holds up a single finger inches from her partner’s face as she speaks. “Only rule is to always follow my lead. Doesn’t matter what you hear me say, the only thing you should be interrupting me with is something constructive. Improvise if you have to, but if you don’t have anything to add stay quiet.”

“Call me crazy, but it sounds like you’re gonna lie.” Runa can’t hide the concern on her face, speaking slowly as she gnaws on her lower lip. “Even if it’s for me, I’m not real comfortable with that...”

“Of course you aren’t, you’re a good kid. That’s why I’m doing the talking because - and again, no offense - your record isn’t enough to get you the respect you want yet.” Sonali tries her best to ease her bluntness with an apprehensive smile, but it does little to soothe the all too familiar sting in Runa’s cheeks. “Hang on though, don’t get all grim on me yet. The fact that your first big kill is pretty impressive does give me quite a bit to work with. Just...keep an open mind, huh?”

A lukewarm murmur of agreement from Runa ends the conversation on an uncomfortable lull. A few beats of silence weigh uncomfortably on Sonali’s mind before she finally nudges her hunter with her elbow to grab her attention.

“Uh...so, tell me about yourself. We’re not exactly on the job yet. Is the Light Bowgun the only thing you’ve used?” Her voice wavers, as if she’s struggling to find a pleasant topic of conversation.

“Oh!” The exhausted huntress perks up. “Yeah, that’s it. I thought the Bow kept me a little too close to the monster for comfort, and the Heavy Bowgun was entirely too bulky. I’m a little stronger now, but I’ve gotten so used to using it now that I don’t think I’ll ever change.”

“Funny, I used to be too weak for a Gunlance so I made my way around to learning a little about all the other weapons to build some strength. Now it’s like swinging a branch around! Your time to kill’s gonna be slow, but I guess it’s fine as long as you know how to use it well. You at least know how to craft your own bullets, right?”

“Uh…” Runa hesitates, eyes narrowing as she probes her mind. “Um…”

“No kidding? You buy all of your bullets? No wonder you’re broke!” Sonali chortles heartily, Runa nervously following suit. “Sorry sorry, that was rude. Not really sorry, but y’know. Sorry. I’m getting the feeling you...skipped a few hunting lessons?”

“Skipped isn’t the word I’d use.” A genuine chuckle stays trapped between her lips, fading into discomfort as quickly as it had started. “It’s a whole thing. Family issues y’know?”

“Family issues, yeah. I got a few of those in my pocket too. My parents- gods above, that’s a gate! Looks like we’re in the right spot after all, come on!” Sonali strides ahead with confidence as Baldur hangs back to climb onto Runa’s shoulder, still brushing dirt off of his matted fur. “Yoo hoo! Can we get a little help please?”

The Dundorman woman’s crowing calls the attention of two stocky men clad in polished steel armor, the reflective plates gleaming in the morning sun. Behind them stands a massive wooden gate, a tall and mighty barrier separating man from beast. The encroaching light only hints at the stories its seen, claws and scorch mark blemishes tainting the monument to safety.

“What’s this, then? I don’t remember any hunters being approved to leave for an overnight hunt.” The first one inquires, a confused expression hidden behind a solid steel faceplate.

“Their shoulder patches say they’re fifth fleet, but I don’t recognize ‘em.” The second man responds, his raspier voice grating against Sonali’s ears. He leans in to examine the trio through the eye slits in his faceplate, dull eyes darting between them as he conducts his brief investigation. “Might know the young one, but not the other two. Can’t place where I’ve seen her face, though. You recognize her, Marius?”

“Nnnnno, the face ain’t ringing any bells for me. Hol’ up a sec Markus-” Marius pauses, scratching at the exposed stubble on his chin. “We got the update last night, remember? Two ships worth of recruits were on the way, but the second ship was hit. Higher ups said survivors were unlikely ‘cause of how sudden the attack was…”

“I’ll be damned.” Markus and Marius mutter simultaneously, both exhaling sharply and exchanging glances obscured by their faceguards.

“Are we all caught up here? All on the same page? Great, great.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, complete with a wide and insincere smile. “I’d love to fill in the juicier details, but my huntress here is itching to get back out into the field. Apparently hunting two Savage Deviljhos in a snowstorm and climbing to the top of a walking mountain like a Kecha Wacha to escape being fish food isn’t enough to keep her satisfied. Mind lifting that gate so we can talk to the Commander and sort some stuff out?”

“Wait, did you say two?!” Runa blurts out, the sudden outburst drawing every set of eyes to the young woman’s panicked face with interest. Sonali’s all smiles, but her cold gaze is enough to get her point across. A lump of anxiety sits stuck in her throat, refusing to drop until she finally manages to choke out her explanation. “O-Oh right, silly me. I k-keep forgetting that part. I hunt so much I can barely keep it all straight, heh. That’s me. Big big hunter.”

Her handler cringes in silence, gritting her teeth and shrinking into herself at the absurdity of her partner’s answer. She’s practically offended at the ridiculous display, mind racing to throw together a cover for the sudden outburst-

“I get that! Marius and I forget who’s who when we’re drunk enough. Don’t sweat the details too hard, eh? Color me impressed!” Markus whistles cheerfully, casually striding over to one of the gate cranks while Marius takes his place at the second.

“Don’t think I’ve heard of a hunter this great since that Wyverian came in this morning! You two might be just the jump start we need to get the investigation back running again. Talk about good fortune!” Marius matches his brother’s delight as the two turn their cranks together, the rusty chains and pulleys creaking and clattering as they pull the wooden gate open to allow the trio to pass.

“C’mon, Runa. I don’t know how that worked, but I’ll take a lucky break where I can get it.” Sonali hisses with urgency, moving to quickly slip under the gate rather than let it climb all the way up.

“Commander’s in the back next to the table with the big map, should be just starting his morning meeting. He’ll want to hear from you. Best of luck, you three! And welcome to Astera!” Marius and Markus call after the trio, allowing the gate to drop before resuming their positions as the ironclad first line of defense against beasts lurking in the brush.

With the wilderness locked securely behind them Baldur starts gushing over how nice it is to be in Astera, with occasional grunts of agreement from Sonali. Seeing hunters clad in the armors of foreign monsters sharing notes with wizened researchers and bright-eyed Handlers is fascinating, speculation from the two of them about the origins of the skins running wild as they navigate around grimy crewmen offloading sealed crates from a familiar docked transport ship. The massive cat-sized oven at the top of the stairs flares to life as a fresh pile of kindle is lit, and the temptation is too great to ignore. The Palico peels off but Sonali - and an emotionally drained Runa - stay the course, heading for the lone table at the edge of the base surrounded by a multitude of high-ranking Commission hunters and scientists.

“See them?” Sonali smirks, nudging her huntress with her elbow. “That’s where I need to be. That’s where the money is - the higher ups. I’ll make sure we get a seat at that table so we can make sure we get the good hunts.”

All Runa sees is fear, fiercely avoiding eye contact as she struggles to keep herself calm.

How long can I really keep this up before notices? Surely Tarja’s told everyone on her ship about me, at least they all know. She missed me too much not to say something to someone. Gods, I can barely breathe.

“Maybe we should coordinate so we don’t look crazy again.” Runa murmurs, catching her handler’s attention.

“Ah, yeah. Smart move, kid. I mean, you really fumbled it up there.” She abruptly stops walking to scratch the side of her face, glancing around to make sure no one’s decided to linger and eavesdrop. “Well you put a lot of emphasis on the two Deviljhos bit, so that’s our story now. Stick to that, memorize it, burn it into your brain. Killed two Savage Deviljhos in a blizzard, saved a stranded hunter. Got it?”

“Got it.” Runa hesitates, holding her hand up to keep Sonali from barging into the meeting without her. “Hey, what do we do if they already recognize me? Or they realize we’re lying? Or-”

“You keep that up and they’ll catch on before we even start. Stop, eh?” She runs her free hand through her unkempt hair, air escaping through gritted teeth with a lengthy hiss. “I’ll be blunt. That log book’s at the bottom of the ocean with everyone that might’ve told them the truth. So as long as you keep the story straight it’ll be smooth sailing. Well, smoother than the boat ride over huh?”

She taps Runa’s chest with her knuckles, wearing a knowing side smile and waggling eyebrows. All she receives is incredulous, uncomfortable silence.

“Nothing? Yeesh, loosen up a little. Not like you died or anything.” Sonali rolls her eyes, the smile dropping from her face as she turns away to approach the table and get to work.  “Just...stand there and be pretty, okay?”

The conversation between the officials is solemn and professional, four people surrounding a sunbleached map of the island covered with crude monster drawings and the names of locations neither of them recognize. Off the coast of the island one monster stands alone, represented with unnervingly sharp angles and highlighted with several red circles.

All it takes is a peek for Runa to be able to tell exactly what monster it was supposed to be.

“I hate to repeat myself, but it’s getting more difficult to justify asking for more hunters and we’ve nothing to show for our hard work. We may understand why events like these require deep investigation, but the Guild needs results.” A small, elderly Wyverian man starts the meeting. Every other member nods in acknowledgement. “The Elder Crossing is upon us again and we’re no closer now than we were ten years ago. I can’t imagine the board will look fondly upon our lack of a substantial breakthrough.”

“Aye, that’s the right of it. And with the damn Anjanath feudin’ with Great Jagras, we can’t get supplies or information from the other camps. They may hate each other, but gods be damned if ya try to get between ‘em. Put the last four teams o’ hunters in the damn infirmary tryin' to clean 'em out.” A hunter clad in battle scarred Rathian armor leans forward in his seat, tapping the space between the forest sketch and the desert sketch with the tip of his long sword’s sheath. “If we can’t get information from the team over in the Waste, we might as well call it quits ‘til the next crossin’. If ya’d just let me go...”

“Normally I would disagree with the Huntsman’s zealous bloodlust but if we hope to understand why Zorah Magdoros makes this crossing every decade, we must move on the monsters with extreme prejudice.” A younger Wyverian man with a tightly pulled ponytail chimes in. “Send the Huntsman if you must - I will mourn the loss of materials another day - but we need to make some kind of progress before the mystery slips through our grasp once more.”

The older man referred to only as ‘Commander’ stands at the head of the table, taking in information with his arms folded across his chest. His eyes narrow with deep thought and contemplation before he finally speaks his mind.

“I have faith in the 5th fleet. They’re the jolt we need to get this investigation up and running again.” He points to the drawing of the forest, drawing everyone’s attention to the crude pink and yellow monster drawings inside. “While I’d like them to get acclimated to the island first, I think we’ll have to dispatch them immediately. Huntsman, I know you have one in mind but find a few-”

“Y’know, I think I can help you out here. I’ve got a huntress that can slay anything you throw at her. Guaranteed.” Sonali interjects, casually sliding between the four officials. The meeting’s occupants stand stunned at the brash woman’s interruption, but the Commander appears...curious. Receptive.

Perfect.

“Hi there. Name’s Sonali.” She pivots a bit to extend her hand to the Commander and other officials at the table, none of whom accept the cordial greeting. Unfazed, she turns her attention back to the Commander to continue her pitch. “My partner Runa and I survived a shipwreck, climbed all over some giant-walking-volcano-thing and hitched a ride on some wingdrakes just to get here. And y’know what she said on the walk over? She said she wants to hunt! Doesn’t even wanna take a break, crazy thing. I heard from the guards up front you needed some volunteers, so we marched over as soon as we got past the gate.”

The officials suddenly jolt to attention, now rapt with interest.

“Please, hold for a moment. Did you say you survived an encounter with Zorah Magdoros? I need to know every detail you can remember, spare no expense. Anything at all would be invaluable to our investigation.” The miniature Wyverian whips out a notebook and quill, holding unflinching eye contact with the Handler. “Do you remember its smell? Did you pick up any rocks? Do you still have dust on those gloves? Any unusual features?” 

“Uh…” Sonali slowly tucks her gloved hand under arm, grimacing as she peels herself away from the researcher’s intense stream of questions. “Yeah. We climbed it after it snapped our boat in two, caught a ride on a couple of wingdrakes and swam when they gave up on us. But that’s not important.”

“On the contrary, it’s extremely important. It’s why we’re here. Why do you sound like you didn’t listen to the briefing?” The bespectacled scientist’s eyes narrowed. “Did it not happen before the Zorah Magdoros attacked?”

“Nah, that ain’t it.” The Rathian-clad Huntsman snarls, getting out of his seat and folding his arms across his chest. Even with his eyes shrouded, Sonali can tell that he’s glaring daggers at her. “They’re mercenaries, the both of ‘em. Exploitin’ people ta squeeze out a few extra coins‘. If ya don’t mind ‘em killin’ whatever they come across rather than cappin’ it then they’re ready - and disposable.”

“Disposable’s a harsh word from someone that can’t afford to buff the scratches out of his armor.” Sonali jeers with a mockingly innocuous smile. “I prefer to think that we’re problem solvers. You got a problem? For the right price, we solve it. Commander?”

“It’s difficult to say no. They've got enough survival instinct to survive a collapsing ship and an encounter with a monster we barely have information on. Though your claim for your skills is purely hearsay...” The contemplative leader mulls over the sudden offer for a few tense moments “Hmm...against my better judgement, I’ll pay you above the posted price for the hunt. But-“

“That’s all I needed to hear, Commander! Nice doing business with you. You won’t be disappointed!” She pats the man on the shoulder triumphantly and backs away from the table, looking over her shoulder to her silent huntress. “Alright Runa, you heard the man. Let’s get you geared up so we can get this show on the road.”

“Hold on. I won’t let you go into the forest without taking another one of the fifth fleet hunters, no matter how good you are. Unfamiliar territory is deadly for even the most experienced hunters.” The commander states sternly, drawing a seething glare from the one-eyed woman. “I had originally planned on her taking others, but since you volunteered I’ll have you go with her instead.”

“Don’t you dare tell me we’re splitting the money.” She snaps angrily, lips already formed into a particularly nasty scowl. “Don’t you dare. You said we’d be making extra on this, that’s the deal. I’m not about to take less here. Hey. Hey! Gods dammit, I’m gonna leave if you do this.”

“Huntsman, is she still on her way?” The commander tunes the woman’s complaints out with ease, renewed with a newfound sense of vigor.

“Aye, spoke to ‘er once she got off the boat. Said she wanted a good meal before she came down. Doubt she got lost.” The accomplished hunter turns to look over his shoulder, scanning the busy tradeyard until a murmur of acknowledgement leaves his lips. “Ah, here she comes!”

From within the crowds in the tradeyard emerges two frustratingly familiar faces - a beaming Tarja and a content Baldur, resting comfortably on top of the huntress’ head. Runa instinctively shrinks to avoid making eye contact, urgently hissing Sonali’s name to try and grab her attention. But she’s too far gone, too deep into an argument with the Commander over the importance of not splitting their pay. Runa half considers simply leaving and catching up with her Handler later to avoid her sister, but she hesitates for a second too long.

“Runa!” Tarja cries out, jogging over to her sister and scooping her up off her feet like a hungry Arzuros. Even if Runa wanted to respond she couldn’t, the bear hug squeezing the air right out of her. “Gods above, I never thought I’d see ya ‘gain! After the monster, and seein’ that ship get wrecked...everyone said there’d be no survivors. I did all kindsa cryin’ and blubberin’, but…”

“Buuuuut as she was going to drown herself in food at the grill, I found her nyah!” Baldur cheerfully inserts himself into the conversation, playfully batting at a loose braid. “She thought she was looking at a ghost, nyah! And when I told her that you were still alive, well…”

“Y-You’re hurting me…” Runa manages to squeak out, wriggling and writhing in her sister’s grasp before she finally takes the hint and sets her free. Her ribs and back ache, but it’s a much easier pain to deal with than the scorching heat of the Zorah Magdoros.

“Ah jeez, sorry ‘bout that. I just got so...so…” She sniffles, clenching her fists and fighting another deluge of tears. She tilts her head upward, takes a deep breath, and after a lengthy pause she’s back to smiling - though she can’t hide the redness of her eyes. “Betcha gave that thing the fight of its life, huh?

“I uh, I didn’t have any weapons. I think I spent more time being afraid of your cannon fire than the actual monster…” Runa forces a nervous chuckle, her half-hearted attempt at humor only making Tarja physically recoil with concern. “I’m fine though! Hands are a little burned, but calluses are good right? That’s what you and dad always say.”

“Aye! Calluses show how hard ya worked. ‘Bout time ya earned yerself a few! Haw haw!” Tarja clasps and squeezes her sister’s shoulder proudly, a broad grin spread across her face. “Ta think m’sister ran inta the biggest, baddest thing out here and got out without barely a scratch on ‘er! We’re gonna hafta catch up over a drink, I just gotta take care of somethin’ first.”

“Oh sure, sure! I think I need to get some rest, so maybe we can catch up another time-”

“Nonsense, Roo! Wait right there, eh? Be back in a sec.” The eldest sister winks and begins to back away to assume her position in the briefing, tossing Baldur to Runa by the scruff of his neck on the way out.

Once her sister’s out of earshot Runa’s expression drops, setting her Palico down on the ground and crouching to get as close to eye level as she can. Her face is serious but Baldur is anything but, curling up to get cozy on the sun-warmed wooden deck.

“What did you two talk about, Baldur? Did you talk about the plan?” She whispers urgently, nudging the dozing cat. “Come on, cat.”

“No no, I didn’t mention it nyah. I still like you, even if you’re not acting like yourself.” Baldur yawns, readjusting himself for maximum comfort. “Sonali, though…”

“Oh no.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and groans, comparing how protective her sister could get with how bold Sonali has been since they met. It’s a recipe for a messy clash, and it’s already out of her hands. “Just what I need, more stress. Gods, maybe this was a bad idea after all…”

“It’s not too late to come clean, nyah. I’m sure you’ll still get to hunt with Tarja if you just tell them you’re related. Plus you’ll avoid...whatever Sonali’s trying to drag you into.”

“Are you being serious…?”

“Worth a shot.” The palico snorts, eyes now entirely shut. “Wake me up when it’s time to go, nyah.”

Runa exhales indignantly through through her nose, rolling her eyes in frustration as she stands upright. He makes it sound so simple, that she’s the dumb one for taking her reputation into her own hands like this. But the lies are easier to justify than going back to just being her father’s other daughter - or Tarja’s sidekick.

She waits impatiently on the sidelines as Sonali feverishly argues for their cut, her animated gestures almost comically out of place among a table of stoic and comparatively normal veterans of their trade. Between her Handler’s shouting and Tarja’s side conversation with the Huntsman, it all sounds like seafoam crashing against the shore to her; a cacophony of indistinct noise that she has no interest in even attempting to parse. Not that it matters much anyway, she reasons with herself. She’ll leave with Sonali soon enough, and vent her frustrations with a few well-placed bullet holes.

Runa allows herself to become so immersed in the thought of relieving her stress that she doesn’t notice Tarja’s frown as she stares over her shoulder at her younger sister, silently sucking her teeth as the Huntsman prattles on about the monsters they’d be tasked with dispatching. Tarja is professional enough to commit the details to memory and absently continue the conversation, but her mind is miles away.

It isn’t until Tarja breaks away from the table that Runa realizes she’s had eyes on her the whole time, uncomfortable goosebumps prickling her skin as her older sister’s heavy boots menacingly approach.

“Oi, Runa. We should grab a bite ta eat.” Tarja declares with a growl, sharply pointing toward the canteen at the top of the staircase.

“But you just ate.” She rasps, profusely rubbing her arms to try and soothe her frayed nerves. “You can’t possibly be hungry-”

“We need ta talk. Now .”

Chapter Text

The outdoor kitchen is busy with the sounds of happy chatter and munching, hunters and huntresses taking piles of food to any open seat they can find. Normally it’s an excellent place to find a hunting partner, or somewhere they can simply decompress after a long day of being out in the field. A few hunters even swear that the professionally roasted meat and vegetables work miracles on their bodies, claiming the meals are more potent than any medicinal concoction.

Those people were superstitious and generally unreliable on hunts, but no one could deny that a delicious meal does the body good.

At Runa’s table, two steaming feasts have yet to be touched. Tarja hasn’t stopped staring at her younger sister since they sat down, even through multiple forced swigs of ale. Not even a freshly roasted steak can break the eldest woman’s concentration, as tempting as that wafting scent is. Runa does everything she can to avoid her sister’s intense glowering through minutes of cold silence, looking anywhere and everywhere that she could to stay away from that steely gaze.

General dining bustle fell into the background of the deafening silence between them. Tarja can't bring herself to speak, even though there’s much to say.

Then, Runa does.

“Tarja, please let me explain.” Runa begins, eyes set squarely on the freshly roasted platter in front of her. “I know what you’re gonna say. Lying’s bad, shouldn’t do it. Sure, I’ll give you that. But it’s really important that I go on this hunt, okay? I don’t really wanna get into why, but...”

Tarja sucks her teeth, fists balled at her sides with claws so sharp they might tear through the leather. Another dangerous cocktail of emotions eclipses the relief she felt for Runa’s safe albeit challenging arrival. She exhales through flared nostrils.

“Did the beast sink yer good sense too?” Her voice lacks any ounce of sympathy. “What are you thinkin’ gettin’ caught up with quests like those? Ya barely escaped death and now yer itchin’ to run back into it? Gods dammit, people died on that ship.”

“I- well-” Runa sputters, caught off-guard with a very direct recounting of her dangerous brush with Zorah Magdoros. “Y-Yeah that’s true, you’re right...but that doesn’t mean I should quit! Think about how helpful this is gonna be for me! Them! Them being the Commission, I mean.”

Refusing to acknowledge her fumble Runa slides the platter to the side of the table, setting her trembling hands on the table and exhaling slowly. Her heart’s on a rampage in her chest, but she can’t place why. No time to figure it out, though - time to turn this nervous energy into something useful.

“Look, I have to go on this hunt. You can go with me or don’t, but-” The trembling in her hands spreads through her body as her eyes finally meet her sister’s, full of anxious and intensifying defiance. The words feel shaky and uncertain as they’re pushed out but she can’t stop. No - she won’t stop. “I’m heading out soon, and I’m bringing them both down. No matter what.”

Tarja listens with rising anger, oozing from her stare like the Dire Miralis’s magma. She takes after her father in stature but her mother’s hot blood runs through her veins.

“Runa I ain’t lettin’ you do that. I believe in ya plenty but yer actin' reckless.” She feels responsible for her sister in some capacity; it’s impossible not to feel protective over somebody that up until recently had to be pushed into hunting. She recalls a time when Runa would cry over the frogs their father used to bait a Gobul out of murky swamp water. She hardly believes this is the same person now in front of her.

“Who’s behind this, yer handler? She talks too damn fast fer my likin.” she spits, taken aback at her sister’s defiance. “We don’t know anything about the land yet, an’ the monsters. Yer gonna get in over yer head, and lyin’ to the Commission is how it starts.”

Her brows knit together then with a hint of concern. Tarja knows excitement for the hunt, she lives and breathes it! Hearing Runa speak like this has the same effect of looking at a poogie wearing a Gore Magala costume...the threat can’t be taken seriously.

“Yer not ready for any of these hunts, and ya woulda gone alone if I wasn't already on th’ list. What are ya hopin’ to do by takin’ things blind?”

“I-” Runa sharply inhales, holding her breath to keep yet another lie from being let loose. Her lips purse and she grips the roughly carved wooden table, nostrils flaring. She knows exactly what she wants to say but it’s lodged in her throat, choking her. Her cheeks redden, her cheeks puff, her eyes clench shut-

“I’m tired of being constantly compared to you!” She spits angrily, slamming her palm against the wood. A few heads turn to investigate the sudden noise, but Runa’s off and running now. The palico’s out of the bag. “Do you even understand how that feels?! All the time it’s Tarja this, Tarja that - dad did it, the guild guy in Moga did it, everyone’s done it! Your list is so long that some people are even surprised that we’re related! Can you imagine that?! People look at me and don’t even think that we’re family!”

Her eyes sting with blazing hot, bitter tears as she speaks, her pained outburst like ripping a scab off a wound she’s realizing wasn’t ever really healed in the first place. Her shaking hand raises from the table, a single accusatory finger leveled right between Tarja’s eyes.

“Even worse, I know mom and dad said you have to look after me like I’m some kind of helpless child. Don’t even pretend to deny it, I know they did. That’s okay though, that’s okay. Because I’m gonna fix it!” She forces herself to laugh, if only to give herself a second to breathe. She’s fully aware of how crazy she looks airing their dirty laundry in public, but if this is what it takes to set herself apart then so be it. “By some miserable twist of luck, you’re the only person that knows who I am, and that’s why I’m asking you nicely to stay out of my way. When I get this done and we’re finally on equal footing, we can talk as Runa and Tarja.”

Few creatures and situations intimidate a woman who towers over nearly every hunter in the guild. The hairs of her neck stand up. Her sister speaks so fast she can’t pick an emotion to stick with. She becomes acutely aware of the people around after they turn to stare. Most have manners and look away, and she’s sure some are on the edges of their seats.

“Oi...” she tries to interject, but Runa said enough. What could she say? Words scatter like frightened gargwa from an enraged Mizutsune...and Tarja feels like she’s tripping on just thoughts.

“That ain’t in my control...” She murmurs, then repeats it louder. “I never told them ta compare ya to me. Pa might want ya ta be a hunter, hell even Ma might! I don’t know how ta help, Runa. I ain’t tryin’ ta make ya anythin’ you don’t want ta be...but ya can’t get around some things.”

The magma in her eyes runs thin.

“I thought ya had a change a’heart. I thought we were gettin’ somewhere the last half a year we been training. Now I get it, ya don’t want ta be here, do ya?” Her voice is low, rumbling, but collected. “I’m not budgin’ on what I said. This is reckless. Yer my blood, Runa, I ain’t got another sister. But if ya want to do it alone...fine.”

“Thank you.” Runa murmurs, palming a piece of bread to take with her on her way to meet Sonali at the gate. Her sister’s concession feels hollow and unsatisfying, a bitter victory that couldn’t be filled by a stray piece of bread or even the meal she skipped out on.

The steps feel disorientingly high on the way down, spiraling downward into a stomach-churning void she can’t help but stumble into.

“How’d it go with your sister, kid?” Sonali asks off-handedly as her huntress approaches - and promptly passes by the handler in silence. She shrugs nonchalantly, trotting to catch up with the brooding young woman. “Gear’s waiting for us at camp, and I even got my arm re-wrapped so I can pitch in a little. You’ll still be doing most of the work, though.”

“Good. That’s what I want.” Runa grunts, hastening her walking pace. “We’ll get this done fast.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

The forest path is lush with vegetation and animals not native to the mainland, but through Runa’s eyes it might as well be wilted and dead. Vibrant petals look dull, scampering Shepherd’s Hares are a nuisance, the midday sun feels too hot - everything is terrible. If it isn’t whatever a Great Jagras or an Anjanath is, she couldn’t be bothered to give it much attention.

“It’s a nice day. Sun’s high, no cloud cover. A little warm. You know what that means?” Sonali speaks past Runa, looking toward the far-off tree tops with an intense focus. Even from the base of the ancient tree, the stirring of distant leaves whispers ominously to the professional.

“Oh gods, is this some kind of lesson you’re trying to teach me?” Runa grumbles, impulsively tugging at loose strands of hair as she stares straight ahead. “Tarja lectured me enough, I don’t want-”

“Shut up and listen. Sun’s high, no cloud cover. It’s hot, Runa.” She mimes turning up a canteen to emphasize her point. “Monsters are gonna be drawn to watering holes and shade to stay out of the heat. We find those, we find Anjanath and Great Jagras.”

“It’s easy to forget you’re a hunter underneath all that snark.”

“Might wanna commit it to memory, kid. It’s gonna be my brains that gets us through this.” Sonali snorts and spits into the bushes, tapping her temple with a smirk. “You don’t get scars like mine making dumb decisions. Now pick it up, we’re losing daylight.”

Runa grunts in half-hearted agreement, but can’t bring herself to say much more. Her mind is miles away, dragging itself through the muck as she lingers on the conversation with her sister. Could she have been nicer to Tarja somehow? Perhaps. It’s not like it was her fault specifically, she just happened to be an easy outlet for her frustrations. But how else was she supposed to understand? Even if this was a long time coming, the pain of regret throbbing behind her eyes was a sharp reminder that there was always a better way.

In short: she’s terrible at being angry. Just add it to the list, she figures.

Luckily for Runa’s heart, the walk to the Guild established campsite was short and she’s brought back to reality - there were two big, unknown beasties out there and she was contracted to take them out. A quick inspection of the camp turns up a smoldering stone oven, and a tent full of worn-down equipment with a cot tucked into the corner.

“I’ve seen worse camps. We can make this work.” Sonali begins fishing through a box of supplies, allowing a few glass containers of healing medicine to clatter to the ground as she separates them from the rest of the pile. “Find your bowgun in the tent so we can review the map and get this show on the road.”

Another begrudging grunt from the emotionally exhausted huntress. She tosses one of the flaps to the side and shuffles in, moving a few of the weapons around with her feet in a half-hearted attempt to clear some space for a more thorough search. The extra bit of walking room didn’t help the lack of organization, though - nothing had been placed with any sort of rhyme or reason in mind, and Runa barely had the patience to dig through the seemingly endless piles of shoddy weapons.

“Oi. How hard is it to find a damn bowgun?” Sonali calls from outside of the tent. She peeks her head inside and frowns; nothing but two separate piles of weapons and an unarmed huntress in-between.

“It’s a mess! It’s all a mess!” Runa growls, brows knit tightly together. She kicks a lance in frustration and it barks back at her, scraping against a dented shield. “Nothing makes sense! Nothing’s where it should be, it’s like whoever was here before just...threw everything around on purpose! Didn’t even try to put it back where it was!”

“Oh gods dammit.” Sonali murmurs. She adjusts a newly-acquired leather knapsack on her shoulder, now standing fully in the tent’s entrance with an impatient hand on her hip. “Take a damn breath and sort yourself out. When you’re done with your little moment, get out here. I got a plan.”

Runa shuffles around inside of the tent for a little longer in stubborn defiance before relenting, throwing her head back and huffing. Sonali rolls her eye and disappears out of sight, muttering impatient curses under her breath.

It almost seemed too obvious to do, but knew she couldn’t keep angrily moving weapons around and making no progress. Warm midday air mixed with the musty scent of the animal skin tent fills her chest.

Maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s stupid. Probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to someone that knew what she wanted from the start, going back and forth like this. Tarja’s worked hard to get where she is - I just want the same opportunity. I wish I could have just said that sooner.

Her shoulders sag as she exhales, fighting the urge to wince while she massages the back of her neck - stiff, sore, crusted with sweat and ocean salt. Her muscles ached for a bath, but with everything happening so fast she hadn’t even had a chance to really get off her feet.

I just have to come back with a couple of monster heads, then I can patch things up with Tarja and just get back to normal. Whatever the heck normal is now…

As the last of the air leaves her lungs, a gleam in the pile catches her eye - a polished iron barrel hidden in the rubbish. Runa yanks out the barrel to find a scuffed and scratched light bowgun, retrofitted with some newer custom parts that she didn’t recognize. Why it was discarded she couldn’t figure out, but she knew better than to question good fortune. She slings the weapon over her shoulder and emerges from the tent with a slight smile. The gun on her back is comforting; like slipping under a weighted blanket she didn’t realize she had missed.

“About time, I heard all that clanging and figured you got lost.” Sonali tosses a belt of ammo pouches to the huntress, who is quick to snatch it out of the air and wrap it around her waist. “Alright, I got a map of the area and some general locations for where these things hang out.”

“And?” Runa rifles through the storage box to grab what guild-issue bullets she could find. “Please say we’re not gonna do much more walking.”

“It’s not that bad, gatekeeper told me about a shortcut while you had lunch with your sister. With it, Great Jagras should be a fairly quick walk.“ Sonali traces a finger along a theoretical path toward a section of the map labeled ‘2’, then continues further into the center of the map, section 6. “so we just rough it up a little bit and scare it out of there. Once it hits the back end of the forest, we’ll lure Anjanath over and let nature run its course.”

“You want them to fight, then we pick off whoever’s left. That feels…”

“Smart? Yeah, I know.” Sonali winks - or blinks really hard, Runa couldn’t say for sure - and pats her leather knapsack. “Guild was even nice enough to leave some gunpowder out in the open, so I can cook up a few bombs. Damn monsters won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“I was gonna say cruel.” Runa murmurs, shutting the chest with a little more force than she had intended to use. “Why can’t we just capture them? It’s safer and simpler, plus-“

“Meh.” Sonali verbally waves away the objections, rolling the map up and slipping it into her knapsack. “No one’s ever bought me a drink because I sang a Seregios a lullaby. They did buy the bar a round when I punched a hole in a Seltas Queen’s body so wide you could fit a barrel bomb through it. You want fame? You do the math.”

Sonali’s casual attitude toward their quest sends chills tumbling down Runa’s spine. It was true; not even her parents talked about times when they tranquilized a monster to end a hunt. Slaying seemed to be the only thing that mattered, an easy way to get a notch under your belt. It hardly felt like the ‘coexistence’ that the guild rep had spoken about on the boat ride over.

“...I’ll take that silence as you being completely on board, and not having some kind of internal crisis. C’mon, let’s mosey kiddo.” The bandaged handler sets off back into the hunting grounds, and Runa shuffles after her in silence. She briefly rolls a fluid-filled tranquilizer bullet between her fingers before slipping it back into its ammo pouch.

The neat dirt path leading away from the camp gets messier as they get further away, and finally opens up once they reach the edge of the forest proper. From Astera and even the shore she washed up on, the forest’s thick canopy and untamed growth seemed vast and impenetrable, and once Runa’s up close she finally understands why.

“That’s...one big tree.” She murmurs, eyes following the trunk of the ancient tree as far up as she could before she lost it in the leafy clouds above. What she thought was merely a densely wooded forest consisted of only the tree and its offshoots, creeping out and sinking its roots into the island. Thick, woody vines were perfect stand-ins for actual trees, layers of fallen leaves filling in the spaces between patches of grass. It’s a true testament to the persistence of nature when left to its own devices. No wonder the commission sent over 5 different fleets of ships to study it!

“C’mon, no time for sightseeing. It’s a tree...what, don’t see many of those back home? ” Sonali scoffs over her shoulder. When she doesn’t receive a response, she turns on her heel to find Runa crouched over a small patch of flowers. “What in the hells? Didn’t I just-“

“A monster is close by.” She states plainly, gently cradling a flower petal between her fingers. “These flowers have fresh blood on them, and there are scrape marks from here. The flowers have been pulled up by the root - an herbivore was dragged away.”

Sonali is stock still, examining the scene for herself and being surprised to find that she drew the same conclusion. Scrape marks exposed the stained dirt underneath the leaves, a few pairs of massive footprints interrupting an ominous trail before disappearing into one of the tree’s many caverns.

“Coulda walked right into a gods damned monster mouth…” She mumbles, almost angrily. She forcefully exhales, whipping out a notebook and using her wrapped arm as a table to make flipping through the pages easier. “These footprints are too big to be Great Jagras’s, so they must be Anjanath’s. But that doesn’t make sense…”

“...unless something is forcing them out of their normal feeding grounds, and they’re competing over the same areas. Which means that whatever we got from the guild isn’t accurate. These things could be anywhere.”

Sonali shuts the notebook with a thoughtful “Hm”, dropping the notebook back into her knapsack. “I thought you didn’t know anything about hunting.”

“I never said that. I just said I skipped a few lessons. I paid attention here and there, though.” Runa rises from the flower bed, wiping the blood on her pants. She tries staring into the cavern to see if she could make out any vague monster shapes, but the glare of the sun is too bright. “I just wanted to pick a few flowers before things got too busy, but…”

“Well...good eye, kid.” She begrudgingly admits, continuing her approach toward the cavern with careless footfalls. “Even if it was for the wrong reasons.”

“Wait, you’re still going in there?!” Runa jogs to catch up with her handler, bowgun at her hip and finger on the trigger. “Going in blind like this is crazy!”

“Damn right I am. I don’t care if the Anjanath is waiting for us with a bib on in there, it’s my hunt and I’m calling the shots.”

“Wouldn’t it be smarter to-“

“What, walk all the way around the tree? In this heat, and in a forest we don’t know the layout of? We’ll wear ourselves out and be easy pickings for the monsters. Think, Runa! Did you miss the ‘don’t die’ lesson too?”

Runa’s tongue presses hard against the inside of her cheek, her face feeling hotter than the stray beams of sunlight hitting her through the trees. A few of the saltier words she picked up from her father are subdued, swallowing them in irate silence. She knew her roundabout path made more sense, but couldn’t find the words around in the thick of her embarrassment. Sonali exhales smugly, entering the cave with a prideful swagger.

“Alright, once we’re out of the cave I’m gonna take a second to build a few bombs. I’ll place them, you blow them up on my signal. They’re gonna have a little kick, so only blow them when I say so you don’t light yourself up.” Sonali’s voice reverberates through the cave, sunlight barely illuminating the beginnings of a much larger tunnel than Runa had been led to believe.

“Yeah, that’s fine, but uh…this is supposed to be the shorter path? This doesn’t look shorter.” Runa’s voice is hardly above a whisper, digging around in her pack for a handheld lantern. She can barely make out the path in front of them, eyes watering as she struggles to adjust to the subterranean illumination. “Also, we should probably keep our voices down. There might be bats or something in here, and it’s so hard to see as it is…”

“Gods damn it, who’s leading this hunt huh? All you do is whine and complain, and it’s getting on my nerves.” Sonali angrily barks, surrounding them in an echo chamber of indignance.

“I’m just trying to make suggestions that’ll-“

“I don’t give a damn about your suggestions! I don’t care! I’ve never cared! We are not a team!” Her volume steadily rises, anxiety cracking her normally commanding tone. The cave walls reflect her growing intensity, an inhuman chorus of rumbling and crunching emanating from deeper within the dark tunnels. “Look kid, I’ve got a month to scratch up half a million gold. One month! If my arm wasn’t busted I’d do it myself, so you’re my only option here. But I don’t have time to waste holding your hand through whatever family shite you can’t work out on your own. We take the direct path and kill the big ones or I’m gonna get tossed to someone’s pet Gobul as a midnight snack!”

“You really were just using me! Baldur was right about you!” Runa exclaims incredulously, yanking the elusive lantern and matches out of her bag. “You’re greedy, you’re manipulative, you’re...you’re a jerk!”

“You can call me whatever you want after I’ve got my gods damned money. Now light that lantern and move!”

The rumbling comes to an abrupt - and concerning - halt. The echoes of their shouting fade away, the only sounds in the cave emanating from Runa’s rusty oil lantern as it squeaks open. The match’s light is dim, highlighting nervous beads of sweat along Sonali’s brow. But as the match meets the waiting oil, it takes all of Runa’s composure not to drop the lantern onto the cavern floor.

Dozens of beady eyes and salivating jaws piled on top of each other, juvenile lizard beasts that were as surprised as Runa to see an open source of flame. A striped wall of bright yellow and blue scales creeps toward Sonali, climbing over each other with fixed, hungry gazes.

“Okay. Okay you’re right. Now let’s go.” Runa hisses with urgency, stepping backward and goading her handler forward by waving the lantern. “Hurry up. Please hurry. We need to go.”

“The enthusiasm’s appreciated.” Sonali exhales deeply, dabbing at the sweat with the back of her hand. In the dim light she looks rattled, a sunken and distant look in her eyes. Her steps are heavy and slow as she shuffles forward, the lizard monsters creeping along just outside of the lantern’s glow. Runa didn’t know what they were, but she knew the behavior - they were sizing up their prey, and without a free hand Sonali is easy pickings. It isn’t a matter of if, but when.

The cave begins to feel claustrophobic as they march, a threatening shake of the lantern barely keeping the lizards at bay. Where were they going? Runa’s too afraid to ask Sonali for the map, or even to take her eyes off the beasts for a second. The risk of a lunge on her watch is too great, she figures. Surely these caves have to end eventually, right? All she has to is keep an eye on the monsters and-

Sonali’s dragging feet catch an errant stone and she stumbles. A brave lizard monster leaps from the crowd, sensing weakness and ready to draw blood. A sharp crack echoes through the caves as Runa intercepts the monster with a savage smack of her lantern. The beast wails as it thumps against the jagged wall, scrambling to its feet with fangs on prominent display. The cave fills with discordant hissing, the cracked lantern flickering and threatening to die out while Sonali clambers to her feet. Her realization is silent and swift, looking to the hungry monster on her heels and back to Runa.

Just as Runa feared, all hell breaks loose.

They break into a mad dash as the lizards shriek and stumble over each other to give chase, the time for patience long since past. Openings leading further into the forest’s hidden caverns fill with the lizards as they pass by, a tidal wave of clumsy claws and teeth in hot pursuit. Sonali whips her knapsack at an airborne beast, only for it to get lost in the stampede and get replaced with yet another hungry maw.

“This way!” Runa takes a sharp left down an opening that didn’t have a monster emerging from it, catching a hint of something sour in her nostrils. It’s a distinct change from damp, dusty rocks. It had to mean something! Sure enough the cramped path opens into a wide atrium of sorts, the sour smell quickly turning dizzyingly rancid. The hard rock underneath their feet gives way to uncomfortable softness, like stepping through fresh mud in heavy boots.

“I see a light this way!” Tiny feet plodding on the wet ground nearly drowns out Sonali’s observation as the beasts pour in, jerking Runa’s attention to a source of light at the other end of the cavern. Freedom! She nearly loses her footing making a quick turn toward the exit, but she’s quick to plant her hand into the moist earth to keep from falling entirely. A wet hand would be nothing to worry about normally, but with the lantern in her hand she can see that her palm is coated in thick, brown blood.

Her skin goes pale, the bread churning around in her stomach practically volunteering to break free.

“Nest. Nest! Oh gods, this is a nest, isn’t it?!” Runa shrieks, violently shaking off the vile liquid from her hand. “There are carcasses everywhere, oh gods my hand smells so bad-”

“Stop talking and run! Close your eyes if you have to!” Sonali barks, her eye dead set on the cave opening and closing the distance fast. “We can regroup outside!”

Nausea hits her like a mule, Runa’s legs buckling under the throbbing and tightening of her gut. Her long strides slow to lurches forward, struggling to keep her composure as her senses are assaulted on all sides. She keeps herself from falling again, but the opening is enough for a lizard beast to spring off of one of its comrades and desperately try to hook into Runa’s flesh. A claw digs into her back before she can grab it and throw it over her shoulder, sending the beast tumbling through the muck and viscera ahead of her. With a furious roar she slams the lantern down on the fallen lizard, shattering the glass and coating the monster in flaming oil. It thrashes and flails for a moment before going limp, and as she steels herself to beat back another assailant, she notices something unusual about their formation.

They’ve stopped in their tracks.

Their glares are menacing, but they refuse to follow Runa past their fallen pack member. They back away slowly, looking between the burning body and its slayer before retreating back into the caves as quickly as they had flowed in. She could hardly believe her eyes, but couldn’t stop to process their behavior on the way out of the cave. Her legs had a mind of their own, and were not in the mood to investigate.

Never has intense sunlight been so exciting to be blinded by. The chirping of birds and unseen animals is a delightful noise, Runa beaming and drinking in the fresh, humid air. Every gulp beats back the nausea, and after a few lengthy inhales she’s fairly confident in her ability to hold down what little lunch she did manage to eat.

“Sonali, pleeeease hand me your canteen. My hand’s all crusty and gross, I’m gonna get sick if it dries out...”

“We have bigger things to worry about, Runa.” She states through gritted teeth, faux calm in her tone. She’s frozen in place, a hand stuck halfway into her knapsack. Following her gaze, it’s easy to figure out why she isn’t moving.

In front of them sat a massive version of the lizards they thought they had left behind, its stomach bloated and distended. Its eyes dart between Runa and Sonali rapidly, its labored breathing growing increasingly shallow and distressed.

“Is that-”

“Great Jagras? Yes.”

“So those were-”

“Regular Jagras, yes. Brilliant deduction.”

“I...I killed one. On the way out.” Runa’s hand eases toward the bowgun on her hip, ready to quickly draw the weapon. “I don’t think it’ll take too well to that.”

The Great Jagras’ attention turns to the cave entrance, sniffing and grunting. It leans closer and closer until its pupils dilate, catching a whiff of something it was not expecting to smell.

“Oh good, I won’t have to tell you to be bait then. I still need a second to build the explosives, so...” Sonali wraps her hand around a small satchel of gunpowder, ready to pull it out when the attention has shifted. “I hope you’re ready.”

The beast lets out a mournful, bloodcurdling war cry.

Chapter Text

Teeth. Hundreds of curved, jagged teeth are on full display as the Great Jagras bears its fangs. Its beady eyes are barely visible above its bloated gut, but they’re locked on one object: Runa.

With her bowgun at the ready and blood on her hands, she fits the look of a cold-blooded killer almost perfectly.

The stock of the bowgun digs into her shoulder as she unleashes a flurry of rounds into the beast’s stomach, spiraling shells digging into its toughened hide. Much to Runa’s chagrin - and the Great Jagras’ surprise - the spent bullets pop back out and clatter to the ground with little more than a scorch mark to show for their efforts.

“...damn, forgot to check what this thing was loaded with.” She murmurs. She swears she can hear Sonali chuckling as she works to unload the low-quality ‘normal’ bullets.

The beast wastes no time hurling itself forward like a tumbling boulder at the huntress, hardly giving her a second to get her ammunition in order. A quick roll to the side gets her clear and sends the Great Jagras crashing against the stone near the cave entrance. Smaller shrieks from inside echo out, like a crowd cheering for their favorite gladiator. As the beast reels back its children stream out in single file, forming a circular arena of slavering eyes. The hairs on Runa’s neck stand on end, and she can feel her rapid pulse in her fingertips as she hand loads the needle-tipped pierce rounds.

The Great Jagras flails wildly as it tries to double back for its prey, jaw snapping and crunching at the huntress for anything it can reach - legs, feet, even the weapon in her hands. But Runa is ready this time, digging her heels in and firing the bullets with sharp precision. Each lands with a muted ‘thud,’ but the impact is noticed immediately: the beast bleeds! The wounds are far from fatal, but the way it whines and reels tells her that those bullets hurt .

The sight of the beast’s blood sends adrenaline surging through her veins, leaving Runa brimming with confidence. Too much confidence. Her mind - and eyes - wander from her mark, looking to check in with Sonali’s explosive task. The question isn’t even able to leave her lips before the Great Jagras interjects. It bellows a deep, guttural roar, feet firmly planted in defiance. The smaller chirps and shrill shrieks of the younger Jagrases follow suit, echoing the cry of their wounded parent.

Then, like locusts, they swarm.

The arena formation the smaller lizards had taken collapses in an instant, voracious younglings descending upon Runa with precision she hadn’t expected after seeing them trip over each other in the caves. She swats one snipping at her ankles with her rifle, but two more take its place. Needle-sharp claws sink into her as another mass of yellow scales launches itself onto her back. The hardened leather armor keeps the beast from biting her, but can’t get rid of it fast enough. As she yanks it off and throws it against a tree, she can feel the intense warmth of her own blood trickling down her back. The smell emboldens them the way it had filled Runa with false bravado before. Blood for blood.

“SONALI!” A simple cry for help tears itself free from Runa’s lips as she struggles to remain on her feet. The high-tech bowgun functions well as a club in a pinch, a low-tech solution that buys her partner precious seconds.

“Hang on, kid!” Sonali barely looks up from her barrel bomb. With only one hand available the work is tricky, but she’s filled plenty of bombs in the past. This one is no different. She seals the gunpowder-filled barrel, snips the fuse and lights it with a single match stroke. “Hit the deck!”

“In the middle of a swarm?! They’ll eat me alive!” Her legs wobble, a second Jagras taking to the air to grab hold of her back. Then a third. A fourth. She could barely tell the amount anymore, but she could feel her legs giving way. No matter how much she begged herself to hold fast, the threat of being feasted upon grew realer by the moment.

“If you don’t drop, you’ll wish they did!” Sonali tips the barrel over before giving it a shove with her heel and turning it loose. The destination? The ever-shifting crowd of Jagras, with Runa in the middle.

The plan dawns on her. Runa allows her legs to give out and hits the ground, curling up like a Volvidon. The Jagras waste no time piling over her, opportunistic and unaware. Then came the deafening roar of high grade gunpowder meeting flames as the fuse reached its end, like a clap of thunder mere feet from her face. The Jagras bodies blunt the force of the explosion, but no amount of bracing could spare her ringing ears.

Runa gurgles and groans, shaking off a few limp Jagras bodies as she emerges from her grisly cocoon. She brandishes her bowgun once more to be ready for a second wave, only to catch a glimpse of the Jagrases escaping through the smoky aftermath of the bomb. The Great Jagras quickly checks for any slow children before disappearing through a thicket, leaving a trail of blood and scrape marks as it flees deeper into the forest.

Runa’s shoulders sag, and she lets out a weighty sigh she hadn’t realized she had held in. A second to breathe, but only a second.

“Hot damn kid, my plan went even better than I expected! It’s on the run, now for the easy part.” Sonali clasps the young woman’s shoulder with delight, as if her being splattered in blood and covered in open wounds was the intended outcome. “Credit where credit is due, you’re better than you let on. Here I thought you were all talk and jealous little sister energy. You hurt?”

“Huh?” The words take a second to register in her mind as the ringing subsides, and she shakes her head in response. “Not too much, I guess. Everything just kinda...hurts. But I’ll live. And...thanks, I guess.”

“Here. You earned this.” She flicks a vial of viscous green fluid at Runa, and she snatches it out of the air. “Guild-issued first aid meds. Dump that wherever it hurts most, then catch up. No time for bandages.”

“Yeah well...maybe I’m gonna anyway.” Runa murmurs. She uncorks the vial and opens her mouth to speak again, but Sonali’s long gone. The one-eyed woman had already shot off like a bloodhound, leaving her partner behind to suffer through the cleaning of her wounds alone. The thrashing of the monster and its spawn grows faint as they scurry into the depths of the forest.

The trail of scrapes and blood leads out of the clearing and deeper into the forest, deep gashes carved into trees and rocks by mighty claws. The forest is unusually silent outside of the plodding of her feet against the torn up earth, with not even as much as a whimper from a passing Shepherd’s Hare. Runa feels her chest tighten as the forest’s canopy grows thicker, dense overgrowth blotting out the sun. The trail is easy enough to follow, but there’s no sign of human-sized footsteps on the messy path.

The claw marks and gashes slash their way up a rock wall and continue upward, a massive offshoot of the tree forming a natural walkway that never ends. From Astera the tree was certainly large, but from the inside looking up it’s a monolith comparable to Speartip Crag itself.

“Gods be damned, these things can run…”

Suddenly, two different monsters shriek from above her followed by another, lower roar - one she recognizes as belonging to Great Jagras. What if she got lost somehow? The thought passes her mind as she preps the claw on her slinger, only for her heart to drop into her stomach before her feet leave the ground. What if Great Jagras got her? Or Anjanath? Oh no, it’s my fault- 

The slinger’s claw catches exposed rock and yanks her upward so she can grab hold of the wall, then she turns around and launches the claw at another branch above her. She sails through the air propelled by guilt and fear, higher and higher until the sight of sunlight catches her eye - a massive hole in the side of the tree, shattered stone strewn about on the wooden walkway. Runa quickly disengages the slinger, using her momentum to throw herself onto the natural walkway and emerge into the blazing midday sun.

It takes her eyes a moment to adjust, but the second they do she wishes they hadn’t. High winds whip against her face, the trees below far enough away to look like miniatures. There are no railings in sight, but muddy boot prints on the precarious walkway are enough for her to assume she is on the right track.

“S-Sonali?!” Runa calls out, carefully creeping forward. She slings her gun to her waist, a hand resting on the trigger. “Sonali, where are-”

“Quiet. QUIET.” Sonali yanks Runa behind a mound of rocks by her wrist just in time for another ear splitting roar to rattle the ground beneath their feet. It’s shrill and unnerving, making the two roars that follow it feel puny in comparison. “Gods, you’re lucky they didn’t look at us. Now just stay low…”

“What the hell was that ?!” Runa hisses, and against her better judgment she pops her head over the rock pile. Great Jagras she recognizes immediately, and the pink bipedal lizard strikes her as being Anjanath based on the sketches at camp. But the beast in the middle is an enigma, covered head to toe in jagged white-tipped spikes. Its head is adorned with a pair of massive horns unlike anything Runa had ever seen before, exuding an aura of bloodthirst to rival even Rajang. All three monsters were at a standoff, eyes locked and watching for any sudden movements.

“That thing is my ticket off the Association’s shite list is what it is.” Sonali empties the contents of her bag onto the ground carefully, producing enough metal rings and wood planks for two small barrel bombs. “Help me fill these barrels, would ya? I have another plan.”

“Does it involve blowing me up again?” Runa grimaces, picking up a couple of disparate barrel parts.

“Nah, I’m letting you off the hook this time. These are for that . Whatever it is.” Sonali peeks further over the rock, her good eye narrowing. “Look at how Anjie and ol’ Jaggy are staring it down. It’s not from around here - it’s disrupting the natural hierarchy in the forest. So if we just give them a little nudge, they’ll start ripping each other to shreds.”

“Do you think it’s what forced them out of their normal feeding grounds?” Runa sets the first barrel to the side, deftly assembling the next one. “Because that seems like something we should report back to the commission and NOT fling explosives at.”

“We can report on it when we drag its corpse back. Take some notes if it makes you feel better. You’ll aid in their ‘conservation mission’, I’ll be drowning in that sweet, sweet research grant zenny…” Sonali pauses long enough to catch the worried frown on Runa’s face. “oh don’t gimme that look, you’ve been doing so well! Just light those barrels and we’ll be done. You can just take a breather and watch the show!”

“Right, a show...” Runa mumbles. Her nostrils flare with frustration. She strikes a match to light the fuses. Creeping out from their hiding place, she waits for a silent count of three before throwing the two small explosives at the monsters as hard as she could. They don’t do more than really puff smoke, but the sudden crack of the barrels shattering sets the beasts into a frenzy.

Anjanath and Great Jagras lunge for the new monster in a panic. But this new monster is quick, using its sharpened wings to bat the two of them away with shocking ease. Great Jagras inflates its stomach to try and ram the beast, but it hardly gives an inch of ground no matter how hard it pushes. The fight hardly seems fair until Anjanath sinks its teeth into the spiked monster’s foreleg, savagely twisting and tearing with all of its might.

The monster bellows angrily, shaking itself free before slamming its tail into Anjanath. The thunderous blow rocks the ground below Runa’s feet, making her stumble while she watches in awe. Discarded spikes littered the floor, but the beast’s forearm seemed almost unscathed. If anything, the lost spikes were already growing back!

Deviljho was the last monster she could remember that fought this hard. Yet, a single thought occurred to her while she watched the beast not only fend off, but triumph over two different monsters.

If this thing gets away, there’s no telling the kind of havoc it’ll wreak out there.

“Sonali, you’re gonna tell everyone how great I was, right? Especially my sister.” Runa reaches into a pouch to retrieve a pair of bullets that almost seem too large to fit in the chamber, a firm push locking them in and priming them to fire. “That’s the deal? You’ll spin up a good story and make some money in the process?”

“Yeah, that’s our deal.” Sonali winces, watching the unknown beast plunge its horns into the Great Jagras. It writhes in agony, pinned against a trickling rock face that threatens to collapse at a moment’s notice. “Why’re you bringing it up now?”

“Because I wanna make sure you don’t have to lie when you tell it.” Runa exhales sharply through her teeth and steps out from behind her cover, aiming her grappling hook squarely at the bulk of Anjanath’s body. The beast bobs and weaves in its battle with the mysterious assailant but her aim stays steady, and the claw’s hooks find their mark. She zips forward into the fray, clambering on top of Anjanath with her eyes set on the crumbling wall. 

The pink monster tries to snatch her off its back, but it struggles to keep track of her in the midst of the frenzied fighting, offering her a chance to let loose the first massive round in her bowgun’s chamber. High-yield explosives blanketed the rock face, a series of violent but small detonations rattling the ancient tree - and shaking loose more of the stone. Decades of collected rainwater begins to leak from the cracks, the natural barrier being blown to bits.

All eyes are on Runa. 

The monsters clearly harbored hatred for each other, but nothing was more infuriating than an interrupting huntress. Anjanath thrashes and flails to shake her off as Great Jagras and the invading monster close in, only to smash into each other and begin fighting anew. Runa does her best to dip and duck between the three monsters as they mercilessly pummel each other, but she can’t help being bounced about like a bean rattling in a crate. No matter where she turns, dodging a limb gets her whacked by a tail or backhanded by an errant claw swipe. Desperation sets in, the world begins to spin out of control. She tries to stand her ground and aim at the wall, but she can’t find a clear shot fast enough.

So she fires anyway.

No matter how good of a shot she was or how much she practiced with Tarja, there was no way she was going to thread the needle. But in a way, it didn’t matter. She simply couldn't give up.

Anjanath’s tail unintentionally swats the massive bullet down, causing its entire payload to go off at once before it could even reach the rock wall. The sound alone is enough to disorient the monsters, but the force of the condensed explosion staggered even the enigmatic third beast. By sheer force of will Runa stays on her feet, ears ringing and body numb. Her legs scream to collapse but she strives onward, limping toward the crumbling rock wall and using the stock of her bowgun to break off loose portions of the rock herself.

The beasts come to their senses, the cluster bombs reminding them all that Runa needs to be dealt with. Great Jagras is the first to recover, scurrying over to fling itself at her with reckless abandon, jaws open wide and desperate for a meal. Only this time, Runa doesn’t move. She crouches and braces herself as the lizard barrels toward her at full speed. Jagged fangs tear into her back for just a moment as it tries to close its mouth before it collides with the rock face, releasing her as a resounding crack echoes through the forest. Then another. And another.

Each crack is like jagged lightning arcing through the stone, even splitting and spreading into the perilous path that brought them up there in the first place. The beasts stop, scanning the area to find the source of the noise. The mystery monster is the first to realize what’s happening, letting out a mighty roar and spreading its massive, jet black wings.

The cracking stops, and an eerie, deafening silence takes its place. Then, the wall breaks. Countless gallons of stagnant water come rushing down, bringing with it an avalanche of broken tree parts and shattered rocks. Great Jagras and Anjanath are swept up almost instantly, the flood sending them over the edge and plunging into the depths of the forest below. Runa doesn’t fare much better; she can’t muster the strength to grab hold of anything before the current sweeps her away.

The last thing she sees before she plummets is the black-winged beast fleeing into the distance, unharmed.