The scent of blood was prominent here.
urVa sensed it faster than saw. It was strong, though masked a bit by surnayla flowers leaning over the stream – but for his trained nostrils, it was obvious.
Someone died a cruel death here.
urVa made his way through the overgrowth to see a bonechilling sight. The stream slowly rolling its waters near the rocks, was red as autumn leaf burned by the sun and smelled of iron; a murder scene, none the less, far less innocent than a leaf and far more revolting than steel.
The Archer caught also another scent; strong smell of leather and fur. And it was obvious, that someone died today to quench the neverending desire of his counterpart.
“Ah, skeMal” he shook his head, supporting himself on his bow.
He wasn’t even disappointed. He knew skekMal too well and realized long time ago, that his nature is different than his own. Different even from other skeksis. Trying to stop him would be chasing wind. And he appreciated that sometimes, skekMal agrees to not hunt or stops his blade, when his is asked by urVa.
No, urVa was not disappointed. Just sad. Yes, sad was a good word.
He decided to face the Hunter and see if he can do anything – and if creature still lived, to ease its suffering. He was sure it must be a large beast, as the stream carried a lot of blood only huge animal could posses in its veins.
The forest, as if doing it purposefully, was making the walk more difficult for him. urVa got even a lash of a branch on his nose, even if he was careful as always. He would curse, if he was skekMal. But he only sighed again and took the branch from his path, as well as other numerous ones that stood on his way.
The scent of blood was stronger here and urVa was at this point sure that he will see a bloodshed. He didn’t like such sight, they were not turning his guts upsidedown though, as he has seen many of them, living on one thread with skekMal. He just wanted to be of help, if the prey’s heart still beat.
But he was not prepared for what he really saw.
No bloodshed. No suffering animal in death throes. No skekMal, wearing the crown made of blood, relishing on his kill.
Yes, skekMal was here.
Bare to the pants, with his muscular chest exposed.
Doing laundry.
The look on urVa’s face was not the wisest one. He felt as relief mixed with a strange need to laugh. He never truly was fond of laughing. He prefered kind, calm smiles and his urru nature, still more stoic than other living beings’, felt good with inverbal communication.
But now, honestly, he felt like laughing.
skekMal sensed him faster than he thought he will. But of course. His scent was so well known to him.
“I wash my clothes” he said, not turning back to him. “No prey slain. No creature in pain to rescue.”
Ah, how they both’s minds worked together. Like one mechanism. urVa smiled and stepped closer, to look behind skekMal’s arm. In typical for urru bent pose, he still was larger than his counterpart, who was small, but made of tendons and muscles.
“I always was curious, how often you wash these robes of yours…”
skekMal, still applying podling soap to his shirt, scoffed.
“Enough often, to not reek.”
“I really thought I will witness a bloodbath. I am happy to be wrong, skekMal.”
The Hunter grinned. A grin filled with both teeth and pure joy.
“Good, that my dirty clothes brough you here.”
“Hmmm?”
“How often you wash yours, Archer?”
*
urVa laid his head on Hunter’s chest. Their both’s clothes were hanging on the tree branches. Not that urVa didn’t clean them, but he had to admit, that it was about time.
The Archer felt skekMal’s breath under his chin. The Hunter was not sleeping, but observing night with a keen eye. urVa slowly drifted into a calm and soothing dizziness caused by closeness of his counterpart and warmth of the fire burning nearby.
The wind took the scent of the blood and playing with it a bit, chased it away.