Blood Trials

The ground was covered in thick blankets of snow. The trees were covered snow and the sky was grey with Monteirian winter clouds. It wouldn’t be easy to see where sky became land; the horizon was blurred by the snowy skies and ground. The game birds too with their own thick snow coats on their feathers. The frigid wind hastened through the wooded area. Two pairs of footprints were embedded in the snow, crouched behind the natural props. The huntress stood tall behind a pine tree, watching the little horde of fowl birds. She narrowed her eyes. The arrow flew!

The fowls scattered, gobbling chaotically. The huntress hummed then tilted her head. She meekly crossed into the clearing with the fowls fleeing from her. One was shot. She smirked then picked up the wounded bird that was bleeding into the snow. "You got him right in the neck," Ridley stated. She cast the bird aside and left it to bleed out.

"I want something more challenging," Anastasia moaned. The ten-year-old pouted at Ridley. "Ooh, ooh! Teach me to shoot two arrows!"

"No. All the energy an arrow uses comes from the bow's limbs pulling the string against your draw. When you fire two, the bow doesn't know it's two arrows. It just thinks, 'this is a heavy arrow'. You need double the energy, double the strength, and honesty you, specifically, need double the height, short stack."

Anastasia huffed then puffed her cheeks. "Fine," she groaned. she folded her arms then tapped her boot in the snow. "A bird in a tree," she asked in a last-ditch effort.

Ridley arched an eyebrow at a tree across the clearing. "Okay," she answered nonchalantly. "You remember how to shoot at altitude discrepancies?" Anastasia nodded. "Are you lying to me?" Anastasia tucked her lips. "You don't move your arms. You incline or decline from your waist; you pivot your whole body." Ridley picked up a stone. "And remember to breathe."

Anastasia nodded then looked to the little bowl of flour. An old-fashioned archery trick; dipping the string fingers for a smoother release. She drew another arrow. She set it into the black bow and waited. Ridley couldn't help but notice the incredible resemblance between her and Dane. The deep, dark brown wavy hair; the sharp facial structure; the faint tinge of red in their light brown eyes. She gave a weak smile then aimed the stone for the tree across the clearing. The sound of it clinking into the tree was faint.

The rattled pigeons taking flight, was not. Anastasia pivoted. Anastasia released. Anastasia shrieked when a pigeon hit the ground. She stormed for her catch while Ridley folded her arms. Her phone's alarm went off. The huntress slung her quiver over her shoulder. She regarded her recurve bow. It may not have been the one from her high school days, but she trusted it just as much.

Anastasia screamed! Ridley notched an arrow at her. Anastasia started laughing then running around with two monstrously sized wolves prancing about. They splashed snow at her with every paw smack. Ridley lowered her bow then tucked the arrow back into her quiver. She slung the bow over her shoulder and came into the clearing. The wolves - one grey with light brown, the other light brown with grey - looked to Ridley and settled.

Anastasia hugged Morgan at the leg. He, without trying, towered over the little girl as did Logan. "Will you two ever grow up?" Logan lowered his ears submissively. Ridley ruffed his jaw then looked to Morgan. "Merry Christmas, boys." Morgan sniffed her chest then licked his lips. "Morph, and I'll bring you some." She turned to Anastasia. "But it is getting cold, and you are going to catch a cold. Move it."

The little girl started skipping towards the headmaster's residence and Ridley watched the wolves snacking on Anastasia's catches. She followed the footprints through the thicket of trees. Anastasia dusted the flour off her fingers before putting her blue mittens back on. Ridley looked up to see Dane waiting on the backyard's patio.

"Papa!" Anastasia rushed towards him. "I shot a flying bird!"

"Ooh, really?"

"Right in the wings," Ridley answered. "The arrow even came out on the other side. She was controlled, she was consistent, she was confident. She held her anchor."

"Aunt Rid threw a stone, and the birds started flying, and I shot one, and..." Ridley brushed passed them, exiting the conversation, grinning to herself as she returned to the kitchen. Inside, Benedikte and Esmeralda were sipping wine. The blonde-haired, blue-eye Danish hunter nodded her acknowledgement. "I was so cool," Anastasia sang. "But then Morgan and Logan ate them," moaned.

Ridley removed her dessert from the oven and turned it off, looking to her mother and friend. "What did they eat this time," Benedikte pressed as Dane kissed her neck. Benedikte was smirking as she handed her daughter a mug of steamy hot chocolate.

"My hunt," Anastasia answered then relived her story. "Can I have some blood in my hot chocolate, please?"

Esmeralda hummed as she crossed the kitchen for her daughter's side. "Sounds like you two had fun," the redblood asked. Ridley smirked then watched Ridley remove the sponge from the mold. "Everything okay? Since you got here, you seemed distracted."

"I've just got a lot on my mind," Ridley whispered. "France, here, work. It's also just visiting Tomás and Sebastian. Visiting Ankh. It took me back. Maybe because I was eighteen when it happened, and it's been eighteen years. Maybe it just reminded me of a time in my life best left behind. I don't know."

Clarke - salt and pepper in the hair - with a full-grown Rowan joined the festivities. Rowan was a beefy young man with stubble and a cheeky little goatee sprouting. He had all the best features of Clarke and Esmeralda; Esmeralda's facial features but Clarke's facial structure. His Gradus were revealed by his sleeve rolled up; only missing the Hunter to complete his Nonentity series. In synonymous with Anastasia who had Novice, Learner and - the overachiever she was - the Guardian. She too was just waiting on the day to make hunt to complete the series.

Behind father and son, Jakob sat by the door and whimpered. His beady black eyes were watching Anastasia drinking hot chocolate that Benedikte had made. "Hey," Dane called to the black and grey wolf that had a white underbelly, "you know the rules; no fur in the kitchen. If you want hot chocolate, go morph."

Jakob scampered elsewhere, passing Dominique who, followed the wolfen with confusion in those pale blue eyes. She gave a light laugh before joining the family. Her full head of grey hair and wrinkled apple face unapologetically on display. Her eyes darted to the back door where a pair of grown twin men came in. Morgan ruffed the snow out of his curly hair while Logan let himself in.

"Where's little Jakob," Logan asked.

"Morphing," they all answered.

Morgan beelined right to Ridley. She slid him a slice of her Yule log. "God bless you," he stated then kissed her cheek. "You're the reason I live."

"And you're the reason I swore off procreation."

"I thought I was," Rowan countered.

"If we're siblings, you're a valid contraception," Ridley clarified.

"What's contraception," Jakob asked as he came into the kitchen, tucking his shirt. For a seven-year-old, his wolfen form was a lot larger than it ought to be. It sometimes outshone how identical he was to Benedikte.

"It's big people stuff," Rowan piped up.

"It's what aunt Rid uses to not have children when she has sex."

The entire kitchen turned to Anastasia then - in complete unison - looked to Ridley. "Well, I never told her that I use it," the huntress replied.

"Okay," Benedikte cut in. "Present time. Please."

Anastasia trilled before charging into the parlor through the service doors with Jakob. Ridley left her sponge cake to cool off and fell in step with her family. Benedikte still wrapped an arm around Ridley as they moved. Mariska was humming to herself while looking over the portraits over the ornate fireplace, wine glass in hand, before seeing the family.

Jakob and Anastasia bolted to the Christmas tree, frantically rampaging through their options. Benedikte and Ridley watched over them with Dane while the adults indulged a different conversation. Morgan and Logan, along with Rowan also joined the present exchange. Jakob was the first to find one with his name on it. According to the card, it was from Dominique. He looked down at his hands, summoning the black talons of his wolf form. They shredded through the paper to find a vintage copy of the Man in the Iron Mask. He grinned then leaped into Dominique's hold.

Anastasia bragged a heavier one with her name ornately scribbled across the purple wrapping paper. She turned to the card excitedly then read: "'Don't think about what you're ending but what you're allowing to continue. From Rid'."

Ridley winked at her. Anastasia ripped the paper off through her mittens. Underneath was a hard plastic black case with the brand name, Chasseur, on it. Anastasia hummed while unclasping it. She screamed and started flapping her arms erratically. In the case laid a compound bow with wrist bands, a glove, a quiver and thirty razor sharp arrows. All red and black. Without missing a beat, she stood up and drew back the bow string. Usually, they all jumped whenever she pointed a bow at Jakob. Since she had the sense not to load it, they watched her tinker with the angle of the limbs.

"Chasseur had to customise the arrow shelf for her," Ridley whispered, earning Benedikte and Dane's attention. "Annie has a hybrid shooting style. Did neither of you notice?"

"I just did archery in training, I never had a real appreciation for it," Benedikte stated. "Too intricate with the poundage and the spine weight and brace height. No."

"What's a hybrid style?"

"Anastasia's specifically isn't all that uncommon," Ridley began as she aimed her bow at the wall and notched an arrow. "Conventionally, you draw the string with your right hand and the arrow shelf is on the left. Hers? Draws with her right, shelf on the right."

"But she shot with your bow. How did she...?"

"Practice. Hunters have to be adaptable, but I thought it was high time she got comfortable with her archery, and a compound bow is a different level of commitment, but she'll be comfortable now. With the full sponsoring of Chasseur Archery, of course."

"I can't believe you and Marie are actually working together in business. Anything outside of hunting, I thought you two would kill each other."

"For Chasseur, this's all she wanted, Sorensen, I was just happy to have a side hustle, and something to do outside of work."

"I didn't realise 'side-hustle' entailed international conventions and supplying the Hunter Olympics," Dane mocked. "Why not pursue it full time?"

"Because the salary is crumbs when you're thirty-something with bills to pay."

"What bills do you pay," Benedikte jeered. "You live in a literal castle that's been paid up for the last few centuries and a staff you pay with loyalty."

"Tax is a bill," Ridley commented. "And I love being a pastry chef, except once a year when you all insist I make dessert."

"On that note," Dominique sang jubilantly. "Has she told you about her little promotion."

"What," Benedikte sang. "Tell, tell."

"It's really not that exciting. Claude just made me head chef at the hotel's dessert bar."

"Yeah, you're right. Not that exciting," Benedikte replied. She hit Ridley in the arm. "That's major, you doink!"

"Whatever," Ridley countered.

"Papa, papa," Jakob called. "I want to show farfar my book!"

"And my bow," Anastasia added with a notched arrow aimed at the fireplace.

"No arrows in the house," Benedikte bellowed. Anastatia lowered her loaded bow. Benedikte sighed. "I need something stronger than wine."

"Another reason not to reproduce," Ridley whispered as Benedikte passed her. "Grab a coat," the huntress directed to the children. "Let's go." Anastasia eagerly took packed up her kit in its case. They stepped outside to the snow-cleared cobblestone and followed the trail through the school. "Clarke's retiring at the end of the school year," Ridley stated.

"I know," Dane stated, watching his son and daughter flounce about en route. "Yi is taking his place."

"God, she hated us," Ridley commented. "Why were all moon teachers so...?"

"I kid you not, that's their niche." Ridley chuckled while tucking her hands into her black coat. "Nah, but I knew Clarke was retiring. The Hunt offered me his position as Dunon Town's chief hunter." Ridley's stretched face turned to him. "I took it."

"You're moving back here? You realise the point of leaving this shitty town is not to come back, right?" Dane scoffed his humour at her. "What about Østerbro?"

"What about Østerbro," Dane countered. "It's not like I'm never going to see it again. I'm glad I got to live there again. I mean," he scoffed, "I met Benedikte there, Annie and Jakob were born there, my mother's buried there; obviously we'll visit." He licked his lips as they entered the hunter's facility. "Am I crazy to say that Dunon has been my home? Are you crazy to say Nice is your home?"

"Touche," Ridley caved. "Does Sayeed know? Have you spoken to him lately, 'cause I haven't."

"Yeah. He and his travelling circus are in China again," he replied. "They're still scowering for more therians. Tsakani sent the twins Chinese broadswords, and I knew that would vex you." Ridley huffed. "On the topic of the Badr colony," Dane continued sullenly. He swiped his gold card over the scanner. The blaring alarm sounded before the thick steel door slide aside. His children took off sprinting down the stairs as he stated, "Ankh."

"I told you, the link was severed all those years ago. I can't sense her at all. Even if I could, what difference would it make? I'd only be able to sense if she was close by."

"That's not really where I was going," Dane clarified. "D'you think she's really the Source? I mean, Calista said the Bloodline is physical but the Source is psionic and we all just left it there. How do we know that's really what happened?"

"Why's this bothering you, now?"

Dane sighed then began, "because Morgan and Logan took Jakob hunting in the woods last night. That therianthrope psionic comms thing they have going on? Jakob developed his. It just got me thinking."

"I guess the only ones who really know are the Sources."

"I heard the magic word," Viggo sang menacingly. Ridley and Dane turned to the bulletproof glass where he was caged. Alongside him on the were his scientist and therianthrope associates. "Did someone say 'farfar'?" He strolled up to the glass to regard his grandchildren, although Anastasia was rummaging through her case. "And who are you two? You're too big to be my grandchildren."

"Farfar, look," Jakob cheered, holding up his book. "It's a first edition! Dominique said her sister, Aimée, got it from Alexander Dumas himself!"

"And aunt Rid got me this bow!" Anastasia didn't hesitate to load it. "And I shot two birds, and one of them was flying."

"My, my, my children doing big things in the world." Viggo chuckled then glanced to Ridley and Dane. "The dynamic duo. How's the marriage you don't have going?"

"Depends. How's the life sentence going?"

"You could be a little kinder to your father, my blue wolf son." Dane and Ridley only arched their eyebrows at him. "I'm happy to see you both. How is the family, Ridley?"

"Dominique still hates you, Rowan's graduating next semester, Mariska started dating again, Esmeralda hasn't aged a day, and the twins still hate you too." Ridley smirked playfully at him. "Chasseur also hates you but she's more open now, I think. She says thank you for investing in Chasseur Archery."

"Of course."

"Farfar, why you call papa Viggo," Anastasia pressed while aiming an arrow at the glass.

Dane cupped her shoulders before he pointed the bow down. "Viggo is my hunter name, Annie."

"What's yours," she directed to Ridley.

"Davinca."

"And uncle Clarke, and Rowan, and aunt Ezz?"

"Clarke, Clarke and Slater."

"Why's Rowan's Clarke?"

"Well, that's his name; Rowan Clarke Axel Junior."

"I'm glad I'm not a hunter," Jakob stated. "I can see in the dark and scratch my ear with my foot! And I have big teeth."

Viggo grinned at his family then looked up to his son. "I'm proud of you, Viggo. I'm proud of the man you are, even when I had very little to do with that. Jakob would be proud too."

"Me?"

"Your great uncle that you're named after," Ridley replied. "He had one eye and wore an eye patch."

"Cool!"

Viggo gave a hearty laugh then folded his arms. Strangely he still wore his perfectly tailored suits and kept his long mohawk in braids and dreadlocks. He watched Ridley comb Anastasia's hair down then tilted his head at her. "Do you plan to live the remainder of your life as a barren spinster, young lady?"

"After being responsible for billions of lives for a few months, the very last thing I want is to be responsible for one more for eighteen years. But I think I'm a little more open to marriage now. It's still vastly a hoax, though I'd be willing to be hoaxed by the right guy."

"Oh, you two were perfect together."

"On paper, maybe," Dane added. "We wanted different things, Viggo. We still want different things."

Ridley turned to Anastasia at full draw with her empty bow. The little girl saw Ridley's reflection and lowered her bow, giggling. Viggo watched the entire exchange. "She has a shine to you," the Viking pointed out, earning both their attention. "Take care of my little poppet."

"Poppet," Anastasia echoed. "That's my hunter name."

"Why don't we have wolfen names?"

"Well, you can have a Viking one, if you'd like," Dane voiced. "Ask farfar for one."

Jakob turned to the glass with both hands on the glass eagerly. "Well, your great grandfather's nickname was Greybeard."

"That sounds so old!"

"Hm, I never thought about that," Viggo replied. "But your coat is grey, isn't it? Your great grandfather's coat was also grey. And he was the greatest wolfen in Scandinavia!"

"Super cool."

"Okay, Poppet and Greybeard, everyone happy they saw farfar?"

Dane rested his hand over Anastasia's shoulder as they left the hunter facility's prison. Jakob was running ahead with his book in hand. "I can't wait to live here!"

"Can we have next Christmas at the castle, papa?" Dane smirked suggestively then looked to his oldest friend.

Behind them, Ridley was grinning brightly. The blackblood wistfully reflected on her usually grim life. The hunter life wasn't for everyone; not everybody could do what they did, not everyone could live how they live. And yet, she was surrounded by people who could, by people who do. To think it all started because her mother found a phony recipe to immortality.

It was a series of grey events that the Sources no doubt watched as they unfolded. Now, deep in the solitary snow-capped mountains of Nepal, in a little wooden cabin, with a modest fire crackling for warmth the Sources continued their civic duty as watchers. On a thick coppery Persian rug by the hearth, Strulovitch laid to keep warm. In his mind, watching the huntress return to Christmas lunch was, the dutiful Ninsun, the just Onuris, the compassionate Earnest, the ever-silent First.

She's come a long way, Ankh sighed. I wish she knew how proud I am. Proud and sorry.