“Shine your boots?” The urchin’s clothes were ragged and torn, but it didn’t stop the child from moving in close to tug on Indane’s pant leg.

“What?” he said looking down. “No.” He shewed the child away with a wave of his hand then remembered himself, stood up straight, and let out a shrill whistle through his teeth. When the urchin turned back around, Indane smiled politely and held out a coppery coin. “I’m meeting someone here, at someplace place called ‘The Ending.’”

The child stared silently back with large dark eyes. 

“Take me there, and I’ll give you this.” He held the copper coin aloft between thumb and forefinger and wiggled it for the little creature to see. 

“The Ending isn’t a place,” said the child.

“What?” Indane stopped wiggling the coin and dropped his hand. He lowered his brow and studied the child, who looked back at him unassumingly.  He motioned for the girl to return to him and lowered himself on one knee. “What do you mean, child?”

“The Ending…” the urchin’s voice trailed off even as her eyes darted about the crowded streets of the bazaar. The child bit her lip, and looked down at Indane’s hand that still held the copper. Then she took the edge of his coat and began to pull him through the crowd. 

They walked for what felt like quite a long time, until Indane was sure that they were simply retracing their steps. They walked until the sun began to set, and the streets began to empty, and the tolling of the bells reminded the population of Yakya that their day had ended and curfew had come. Then the child took him to the porch of a rounded single-story building that they had already passed perhaps a dozen times before. She indicated for him to enter, and patted his hand, and hurried away.

“Child!” he called after it, feeling more lost than ever. Shadows were now growing long over the city, filling every dark corner with a sensation of emptiness. “Well, shit,” Indane said to himself. The child hadn’t even bothered to take his coin.  He gazed around nervously trying to gather his bearings in a city wholly unknown to him. With the curfew imposed, it would be nearly impossible to find lodging. The people of Yakya, it was said, kept their doors locked twice; once for the evening, and once for its inhabitants. They were a superstitious people to be sure, and Indane let his hand fall to the hilt of his shortsword as he opened the door of the low building.

The place was crowded but quiet, with low-lit lamps that bathed the entirety of the inside in a wash of orange. People sat at high tables, either by themselves or in groups of two, whispering negotiated terms that Indane couldn’t hear. He straightened his coat and caught the eye of a short man with broad shoulders who stared back at him intensely with pallid white eyes. Indane considered leaving, second guessing his plan, but then heard the shrill chirp of a raptor that brought his attention to the far end of the room.  

A woman sat there, flanked on either side by two large birds of prey, both unhooded and massive.  Her hair was long, and dark, and in the amber lamplight it looked almost impossibly black as it sat framed against her leathers. Indane took quick steps towards her table, and was greeted by another cry from one of the birds.

“Only the Łowca are permitted to carry blades past The Ending,” she said before he could sit. 

Indane paused. “Would you like me to remove it?” he asked amiably. The woman didn’t answer. She turned her head sidelong to gaze at him with sharp, almond-shaped eyes the way one of her birds might.  “I’m trying to find someone,” Indane’s words came out louder than he intended. He cleared his throat and whispered. “You are one of the sokół.” 

The bird called again. 

The woman pushed the chair closest to Indane away from the table with an outstretched leg, and indicated for him to sit. When he did she spoke again in her clear undertone. “The sokół are outlawed in Yakya and every other city-state south of the River Rux.”

“And I’ve come a long way to find one.” Indane watched as she turned her head to the side and studied him again. He tapped once on the tabletop. “A very long way.”

“Why?” The woman was small, built with an unmistakable strength of frame but postured with a careless grace. She wore her leathers open to mid chest, showing more than a little of her rounded breasts which were split by a flaxen cord on which hung a single, golden feather. She kept her focus on Indane while absently feeding a scrap to the bird on her left.

“I’m hunting someone,” said Indane. 

“Who?”

“A fugitive,” he lied.

“The sokół do not hunt fugitives.”

“I know. I know that,” he nodded. “These birds… they’re beautiful.” He reached out a hand but pulled it back quickly as both of the raptors lowered their heads, opened their beaks threateningly, and extended their wings to full span. “What are their names?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced momentarily to the ceiling. “I do not speak their language.”

“Is it true they can bring down a Night Raven?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she gave a short nod. “It is dangerous for them,” she intoned. “And costly for you.”

“I can pay,” he said, reaching into his coat. She stopped him with a shake of her head. 

“Not here,” she said. “Not now.” She handed a scrap to the raptor on her right, who took it greedily. “Meet me tomorrow evening at Low Vale Wash.” Indane’s eyes fell once more to her chest, and he forced himself to look back up and meet her eyes again. “At The Ending,” she added. Then she nodded for him to leave. 

He stood, but before he turned to go he asked earnestly, “How will I find the Low Vale Wash?” 

“Try asking an urchin,” she said with a hint of a smile. 

***

Low Vale Wash was little more than a confluence of riverbeds that had long since run dry.  It was roughly four miles east of Yakya and framed by the tall cliffs of the canyons beyond. Indane had asked several of the little street urchins for directions, but most had refused and scurried away from him when he told them the name of the place. In the end it was the same child, the one who had led him to the sokół the night before, that finally pointed him to the riverbed and told him to walk until the path split in three. This time, the urchin pocketed his copper before sending Indane on his way. 

Indane found the woman in a large canopied tent that looked like it had been standing there for some time.  It was adorned with various furs and furnished on the outside with a stone built cookfire stove. When he opened the canvas flap, the woman stood inside pouring over a hand drawn map beside a low sleeping cot. She looked up at him with her almond eyes. 

“Do you have the money?” she asked, looking back down to her map.

“Yes.” He removed his handbag and reached within. “How much?”

“All of it.”

Indane made to contest the point, then considered the futility of arguing. He set the handbag on the table next to her map and stepped back, looking first around the interior of the tent and then to the woman herself.  Her leathers were gone, and she now wore only a silk robe, fastened about the waist with a tight sash.  “Where are the birds?” he finally asked.

“Outside.”

“How long will it take them to-”

She quieted him with a raised finger, and it was several long moments before she spoke again with her eyes still pointed downwards. “I’ve never known any Night Ravens to be fugitives.”

“What?”  Indane cocked his head to the side. “Oh, right. Well, my lead in that matter is a shaman from west of the Creeping Cold. His rates, like yours, are not cheap,”

“He wants a Night Raven?”

“Its skull, yes.” Indane watched as the woman looked up from her map before he continued. “He’ll only assist me if I provide him with one. Apparently it’s somewhat sacred to his faith.”

“One of the Priori?”

“That’s right.”

The light in the tent was dim, but with a grey hue that somehow accentuated the flecks of hazel pigment in her eyes and on the golden feather she still wore about her neck. “Leave your sword,” she said at last and motioned for him to follow her from the tent.

They walked beneath the light of the stars, climbing through sundry paths until they crested the top of a nearby cliff. The sokół’s feet were bare, making little slapping sounds on the rock as she padded ahead in the cool night air. She moved to the edge of the precipice, where her two raptors awaited them, then ran the back of her hand along the nape of the nearest bird, speaking in hushed tones with her face alongside its own. 

“When will they hunt?” Asked Indane. 

“They won’t. Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“Not tomorrow.”

Indane inhaled slowly, then barked out a short laugh. “You lied,” he sneered, “when you said that you didn’t speak their language.”

“And you lied,” she shot back flatly, “when you said you were hunting a fugitive.”  The heads of both birds turned, regarding Indane as they might a defenseless mountain goat. 

“It was more of a… half truth.” He smiled, then shook his head as his hand twitched for a swordbelt that he no longer wore. “What gave me away?”

“So many things.” A light breeze caught her robe, lifting it enough to show the flesh of her thighs. “And you knew that hunting a Night Raven would leave me unattended by my lot for several hours. Maybe one or both wouldn’t even make it back.”

“Maybe.” Indane abandoned his act of courteous chivalry and leaned against one of the smooth rocks. “What now?”

The woman ignored his question. “Why didn’t you try to take me in the tent, when you still held your sword?”

Indane shrugged. 

She took a step towards him, and both birds stood up a little taller. “You’ve been following me a long time.”

“I almost had you in Crahenbuhl.”

“You never had me.”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever. Because you do not truly understand the hunt.” She was moving in close to him now. 

“Like your birds?” he scoffed. “If it’s not me that catches you, it will be someone else. The price on a sokół’s head…” he whistled low, “it’s a small fortune.”  One of the birds took an anxious step on its perch, readjusting itself to get a more perfect angle of attack. Indane, for his part, felt strangely calm. It was something of a relief actually, to know how he would die. 

The woman stopped less than a foot away from him. “When my lot hunt, they do not enlist the aid of children, or use a fabricated identity.  My lot take what they want.” Another breeze pulled at her hair and blew a few loose strands across her face and neck. She moved in even closer, until Indane could take in the smell of her and see the light of the stars as it reflected from her dark hair. “Why did you not try to take me back in the tent?” she asked again. 

“I knew your birds were close by.”

“You’re lying,” she said, and drew a short knife from inside her robe. 

Indane’s hand caught her wrist, holding low and firm in his grasp yet surprised by the strength of her arm. “I don’t need my weapon to take you,” he said menacingly. 

“Careful,” hissed the woman from behind a wry smile. “When I tell them to, my raptors will tear you to nothing.” She peeled his hand from her wrist, the warning cry of her birds punctuating her efforts. Indane held still as the knife moved up to his chest, feeling the metal run along his coat before the blade pressed forward.

Pop!

The topmost button of his shirt leapt from its perch.

“What are you doing?” Indane started to pull away but felt the edge of the blade against his skin.

Pop!

Another button fell to the ground.

Pop!

“Stop this!” he hissed, and before he could restrain himself his hand flashed out and took the woman by the neck. Her birds let out a deafening cry and stamped in place, but she quieted them with a raised hand of her own.

“Why?” She asked, and cut another button from his shirt. With her other hand, she reached up and tightened his grasp on the muscles of her windpipe. “Why did you not try to take me?” Her voice sounded strangely muted beneath the pressure of Indane’s grip.

“Why does it matter?

“It matters,” she said forcefully. She brought her blade down, cutting through the fabric of his shirt before exploring his torso with the back of her hand. She found the scars that ran along his chest and stomach, and arched a finger to run a knuckle along the smooth skin that was left behind. 

“I…”

“Be quiet,” she demanded. She cut the belt from his pants and continued downwards, freeing him from the confines of his fabric prison. His hand tightened harder around her neck, drawing a gasp from her as his cock began to engorge.  Indane held her in her place, and with his freehand he yanked the robe from one of her breasts before gripping it tightly as well.  He squeezed with one hand, and then the other. 

From down below, Indane felt the flat of the knife run along the length of him. When it found the skin below his navel the sensation filled him with a rush of violent arousal. He forced the sokół to her knees, still holding her by the neck; looking down at her past his outstretched manhood while she gazed back up at him definitely with her amber flecked eyes. Then he dropped to his own knees, and pushed her to her back. He felt the blade of the knife at his neck as the tip of him found her opening, and for a moment he hesitated before giving in to his body’s demands. He pressed into her slightly. 

“No,” she said, her eyes closed, her head tilted back. “No!” But even as she said the word she rocked her hips back, and raised her knees, and caressed the hand at her neck affectionately. 

“No?” he ventured. He pressed in slowly, going only a little further and feeling the tension of her give way slightly to his size. 

“Noooo.”  She kept the knife to his neck but ran her other hand along the length of his arm. 

He pushed a little further, and she gasped. A sound from the cliff forced Indane to look up, and he saw that the birds had advanced their position, watching now from only a few feet away. He felt the woman’s hand in his hair, and she pulled his head down to look at her once more. 

“Yes” he growled, and kept his pace steady. Her body was lithe and taut, and when Indane began to truly feel her, he let go of her neck and heard a rush of inhalation as air returned to her lungs. He used both hands to push her knees back, until they housed themselves just beneath her ribs. Her empty hand found the base of his stomach, and her hand opened as she braced herself against him. He pushed in further and she screamed, trying to use her palm to hold him back. He pushed in again, and she screamed more loudly. He pushed in again.

“No. No. No.” she said the word in rhythm to each of his thrusts, her fingers freeing her other breast from her robe before running along the tips of her own soft nipples. And then to Indane’s surprise, she dropped the knife, and rolled to her side, and began to crawl away from him slowly on all fours. 

Again his hand shot out, this time grabbing her by the hair and holding her in place while he took up his position behind her. He pushed downwards on the base of her back, forcing the end of her to raise up so that he could find her slit with the head of his cock. He held her by the hips as he began to thrust in earnest, ignoring her cries of ecstasy and protestation as her back arched up defensively to try to accommodate him. 

“Where do you think you are going?” He said through clenched teeth. His heart was pounding as he listened to her scream, holding her by the hips but losing himself in the contrast that came from knowing he hadn’t truly caught her. “I almost had you,” he spat menacingly. “In Crahenbul. In Onik. In the foothills of the Northern Maidens…” Indane’s head swam with a savage euphoria. “I…. almost had you!”

For her part, the woman just screamed louder, until the birds began to shriek while her cries intensified. Indane intensified his pace, pounding with a ferocity borne from the need to punish her for having evaded him – for having outsmarted him.  With each drive he felt her bounce off of him firmly, then rebound back for more, the muscles of her insides wrapping so tightly around him that he had to grit his teeth to keep his resolve. Still he pushed and still she came back for more, her round breasts moving in unison with the motion as his hands explored her back and front. His mouth was dry, and the wind was beginning to blow in earnest.  Indane pressed the woman’s head down to the flat stone floor, then grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her back to take the entirety of him. 

Her scream was born of ecstasy and victory, his of desire and cruel acceptance. He felt himself lose control of his member, the rush of creation leaping from him to fill the deepest parts of her while she shrieked words he did not know in a language that no man recognized. The raptors called and took to the skies, opening their claws and framing themselves against the stars before crashing back down to the cliffs. 

There were… worse ways to die than this. 

****

Indane woke the next morning to the warmth of the sun rising above the cliffs. His clothes were gone, and there was no sight of the woman. He made his way back down to the riverbed slowly, taking careful tender-footed steps along the way. When he reached Low Vale Wash, he saw that the tent was gone as well, leaving behind only a stone built cookfire stove, and a sheathed shortsword that rested against it. 

There was no sign of the woman, but Indane knew where he’d find her, if he found her.

“At The Ending,” he said to himself. Then he took up his shortsword, and headed east.