Thread: Blood & Fur [BurningWillows/DementedRabbit]

Sigurd. Her saviours name was Sigurd. She committed it to memory as he carried her through the unfamiliar streets, and while normally she would oppose of a stranger touching letting alone carrying her, she couldnt help but find comfort in his strong arms after all she had gone through in the past hour. Resting her head on his shoulder she breathed in the scent of him, wood and leather. It was comforting. Thank you Sigurd, she spoke softly, still trying to process what she had done, but needing to thank the wolf, My name is Eira, if that matters. But you can keep calling me little wolf. She blushed. What a stupid line. She wasnt thinking straight. Who could when they saw their family burnt and dead, only to be chased and attacked by madmen? She didnt speak another word till they entered his home and he slipped her onto the bench. She tugged her winter cloak and hood off, staring around at the cozy little home, the home of a hunter as she could see. Indeed not a trace of a woman was within it, though she still wondered if he had one. Thank you, she mumbled as he turned and left, watching him go. She stayed on her bench by the fire, pulling her soaked fur boots off and placing them to the side. She noticed the blood stained on her hands then, and then on her dress. She touched her neck and felt wet droplets there too. Shuddering she looked at the tub across the room. If he is going to hunt food I should have time to bathe quickly. It would be rude to sit in his home sullied in that mans blood anyways. She fetched water and filled the cauldron, and as it warmed she fetched more, filling the tub with half cold water, then finishing with the hot boiled water. She stripped her dress and waist band with its pouches, standing bare naked before the window out into the town, a town she had never been in or seen before. Foreign to her. And she was alone. With tears in her eyes, Eira climbed in the tub, wanting to wash the dirt and muck off her skin before he returned. She didnt use his soaps, instead just scrubbing herself clean with her bare hands, crying into the tub. She would never see her family again. Never hold her brother and read him a story again, never help her father hunt dinner again. Never sit with her mother and meditate again. They were dragged from her life, without any warning, and it broke her heart into pieces, like someone had dug an arrow into her and was twisting it, causing her agony. She had been numb before, being chased, attacked, saved, then...killing. But now she wept openly and alone, letting it all out till the water had turned cold and she knew there was little time left to waste. Her dress would have to stay stained, until she could clean it. Stepping out of the tub and onto his fur rug she looked for a means to dry herself, her milky skin illuminated by the warm candlelight. She found a cloth and dried herself then dressed quickly, not wanting Sigurd to return and find her nude in his home. Leaving her boots still by the fire drying she emptied the tub then braided her firey hair and waited for him, wringing her hands as tears continued to prick her eyes. It would be a long time before she wouldnt feel pain thinking about her family.