Bear/Fire/Orb Untitled RP (6/27/14)

Late fall, and the last brown leaf had fallen to the ground. The forest looked gray, save for the evergreens which dotted the landscape. These would keep their leaves all winter, and eventually fauna would rely solely those prickly unappetizing tidbits for survival. When that was gone as well, then deer would check bark as they waited for spring grasses to grow once more. It was a difficult time for all of the creatures under the mountain. All, that is, except for the people. Crops had been harvested, and the larders were full in preparation for winter months to come. The people would not suffer if all went well, They would have grain and meat during the winter to see them through, and the process would begin anew in the spring.

It was early afternoon when Crying Bear asked his wife to accompany him to the river. Little Fire, as usual, had little choice in the matter, as Crying Bear’s wants rarely went unmet. She was to bring soaps for his bath, and wash his back. It had become her job to tend to him during this time, a task previously left for a slave. But Crying Bear was a wedded man, and as such, his wife would fill the role for which she was intended.

The water was frigid this time of year, so he didn’t plan to stay long. But a quick dip in freezing waters was a better alternative than bathing with a bowl of warm water, and a cloth. That would come eventually, when snow covered the land, and the water was no longer tolerable. But for now, he would continue to pursue the river.

A grouping of large boulders at the riverside allowed them some measure of privacy. It was his place of choice because of the convenient way the boulders jutted into the water. Little Fire would be able to kneels upon the boulder to wash his back without getting more than her hands wet. Crying Bear dropped a thick, bundled blanket on the boulder, then beckoned Little Fire closer as he began to undress.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked gruffly , eyeing her clothes skeptically before pulling the long-sleeved shirt over his head.

Little Fire nodded as she stood behind him. "Yes, Crying Bear," she assured him. The air was indeed chilly, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. Her garments were warm, thick and lined with fur. She looked about at the cold landscape around them, wondering when the first snow would begin to fall. It felt likely it would be soon. Turning back to her husband, she sat down next to him on the blanket, moving her hair away from her face as the wind blew it about. She really should have braided it today.

Orbweaver had left her village hours ago, with bow in hand and quiver around her waist. She followed a clearly marked trail, eyes down and studying the fresh deer tracks that marked the ground. Her hair was braided and pulled over one shoulder, the rest of her clothed warmly to keep the chill at bay. Already a couple of rabbits dangled from her sash, but she was far from finished. Orbweaver was hunting larger prey, and she was finally on a good trail. She wouldn't stop now...not when her target was so near. She could feel it, could sense it. Sure, she still had some ground to cover before she got what she wanted but with each careful and silent step she grew closer and closer.

If he were honest with himself, Crying Bear would realize he had no desire to enter the biting waters. He’d only taken off his shirt, but made no move to undress further. Instead, he found himself scowling at the water as it moved smoothly downstream, but remained firmly planted upon the blanket next to Little Fire. Why exactly had he decided to come here at all? The weakened rays of the afternoon sun felt good on his skin, but he could not imagine they would do much good once his skin was wet. Still, he could barely back up now, as he’d surely appear a coward in front of Little Fire. With that dilemma in mind, he sighed, and stared at the forest across the river. There was no way out then. So he finally undressed, and stepped into the water.

It was colder by far than what he expected. Perhaps tomorrow, he would bathe indoors. Those he called friend as well as brother might laugh at him for being so weak hearted, but the water was numbing, and he hated the sensation of tiny needles on his flesh. Hesitation would make him weak, so he dipped into the water, and came back up at once, wiping the water from his face. It made him feel incredibly awake, though he clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering. Unpleasant sensation skirted across his skin, and he exhaled as he began to wash, using the soaps Little Fire had brought. One more dip and he would The water bit into his skin, but he ignored the irritation, and glanced over his shoulder to Little Fire.

Crying Bear's wife was torn between amusement at her husbands' obvious reluctance to get into the ice-cold water, and pity for him having to do so in the first place. It was indeed very cold, and she wasted no time once he was done lathering himself to soap up his back, being thorough, yet quick. Neither of them wanted to be out in this cold air for too long, especially when wet. Still, it would not hurt to have some fun at his expense, would it? "Are you alright, husband? You shot out of that water quite fast," she said with a smirk.

Crying Bear was hardly in the mood for jokes, and expressed as much by casting a scowling glare in her direction. Though he was grateful that she had done her job quickly, he hardly approved her laughter at his expense. He moved away from her, and dipped in the water once more to remove the soap from his body before climbing onto the boulder and reaching for breeches. Those would come on all too quickly. He eyed the blanket with longing as he dressed, struggling to keep his himself from shaking as cold invaded his limbs and numbed his extremities. Perhaps he was being a bit childish about the entire affair, but the chilled bath had turned his mood sour. He looked to the distance at the glow of the village fires with longing, and reached for his shirt.

Little Fire grew quiet when she realized he was angry. Usually it pleased her to annoy him, at least a little. When he wasn't frighteningly angry with her, his irritation did serve to amuse her when she was bored. Not today, it would seem. She briefly debated apologizing, but discarded the idea. She was only joking, after all. He didn't have to take it seriously. It wasn't her fault that he did. With a sigh, she stood, leaving the boulder to kneel by the river and wash the soap from her hands. Woah! Very cold! She held back a grimace at the temperature and pulled her hands back out, shaking the water off of them. It would not do to let her husband turn the tables on her, now would it? She waited for him to dress in silence, also eager to return to the warmth of a fire.

Orbweaver's breath stilled in her chest as her eyes lighted upon her prey and she lowered into a slow and steady crouch. Carefully, so carefully, her hand pulled an unmarked arrow from the quiver. The tip of the arrow was marred by a plant paste..something new she was trying. Datura. Her brows pinched. She hadn't expected this..but she'd thought ahead. The bowstring tightened, the arrow steadied over the target, and with a single slow exhale with the words on her lips, "Die, you son of a bitch."

The arrow flew, straight and true as always, and pierced Crying Bear's left shoulder.

The moment he would fall, Orbweaver would leap to her feet and bolt towards Little Fire. "We need to go. Now." she demanded, before turning and stepping towards Crying Bear. She glared down at him, and a wry grin curled her lips before she turned and placed a hand on her cousin's shoulder.
"Leave no trace, let's go."

It happened too quickly. Crying Bear felt the punch to the shoulder as clearly as if someone had driven their fist into him. The arrow entered from the front, and tore its way clean through. The was shock in his expression as he turned to stare at the bloodied shaft protruding from his shoulder. His mind surged. The shot was not fata, he noted, and it had come from the forest. There would be more, and they were in danger. The next instant, he acted, reaching for Little Fire, to move them both and place one of the large boulders squarely between themselves and the forest. That done, he’d yell for his people. Surely, someone would hear them and come.

But there was something horribly wrong. His mouth had gone dry, his limbs felt heavy and numb. The water? Surely he’d not suffered hypothermia in his brief exposure. No… Darkness began to invade the corners of his vision as his legs suddenly gave way and he landed hard on his knees. Rage consumed him, but he could do nothing to vent it. His body, quite simply, refused to obey. His dark eyes rolled back beneath descending lids as he fell to the ground.

Little Fire barely heard the whistle of an arrow, but heard the familiar thud the projectile would often make as it embedded itself into flesh. However, none were hunting here that she knew of. It was too risky to anyone that might be at the river, and a grunt following the thud behind her had her whirling her head about, gasping in shock as she beheld an arrow protruding from Crying Bears' left shoulder. Who... She had no time to react as her husband pulled them behind a boulder. She could only tremble at the sight of the bleeding wound. She'd never seen a... person shot before. She had to... Suddenly he dropped to his knees, his eyes rolling disturbingly back in his head as they closed, and he hit the cold, hard ground with a thud. She stumbled back in fright. Was... Was he dead? What should she do? Who was attacking? Did Big Bear have other enemies? The arrow was unmarked, who would...

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Orbweaver appeared, bow in hand, and Little Fire realized... the hunter was her. Orbweaver had... killed Crying Bear! "Go, I..." she stammered, her tone slightly higher pitched in her fright, still in shock over seeing a person shot. For the moment, the fact that it was Crying Bear in particular, and the significance of that, did not register so much as the fact that Little Fire had just seen a man shot dead. Orbweavers' hand on her shoulder made her realize how much she was shaking, and with adrenaline coursing through her, and her mind beginning to panic, she did the only thing that made sense to her brain. Reflection would come later. She followed the barely comprehended instructions of her cousin and ran.