Chapter Text
The Shroud was a forest, or maybe a woodland. He hardly knew the difference. Either way it was no jungle.
The trees were less sturdy. Their boughs were unimpressive. Still, Ilya made use of them. He navigated the canopy high up in pursuit of a wayward trio of Garleans who had left their station to cause trouble in a small village. They were perhaps a half-day ahead of him, and he’d been trailing them steadily since the late evening before when a hysterical Eorzean woman begged his intervention. They’ve stolen our crops, she cried. They’ve torched our woodshed, she shrieked.
Oh, and they gave my husband a good knocking about, she told him with less upheaval.
Through this, Ilya had regretted the visibility of his bow with a scrunched-up nose. These people had a sixth sense for adventurers, even if he was only one on paper and not in heart. He finally sighed and agreed to chase this trio of troublemakers back over the Shroud’s border. Or kill them if necessary, though he felt no particular way about it. If asked, Ilya would say that Garleans were a blight, and he’d say it without feeling. It was an old sentiment learned from his mentor who’d had no enthusiasm about anything besides himself. But that was what Ilya had been taught. Garleans were a blight. Just kill them and be done.
So he tailed said blight. The moment he saw their backs he meant to send an arrow through each one and call it good. He trotted and jumped from bough to bough, sure-footed and silent, and the knives at his belt were a last resort. A hood hid his Vieran ears, which lay flat against his head, a thing which impacted his hearing to an annoying but not crucial degree. A veil of dark mesh covered his face. The last thing he wanted was to make a name for himself. Who knew who might come knocking if word went ‘round that a Viera of his description was traipsing around Eorzea fixing things, for gods’ sake.
He’d just heard the rumblings, passing through as he was. Garleans, sighted in the Shroud.
First there was the familiar feel of his heart picking up pace until it was hammering in his chest, so loud in his ears he was always surprised none of the other races seemed to hear it—he would have bet a Viera would have. His mouth dried, every sense sharpened painfully and every part of him told him flight...
And yet, with long practice he hid his nerves to the best of his ability, blinking without care.
Ask how many.
Not many. No definitive numbers, but maybe three?
Good enough. Not too many. Most likely. And even if it turned out to be more than that, he could always turn around and leave with no one none the wiser to his presence. He needn’t commit to anything.
So he bid the people good luck with their Garleans and continued on his way after paying them for some foodstuffs. But even if a part of him told him to not bother, what did it gain him–
Irrational things, it gained him. Vengeance. He knew the chances of them having anything personally to do with him were abysmal, but that was what reason said. Fuck reason, whispered a more emotional side of him. Make them pay. Here’s a chance.
That was the side he listened to.
It was a simple enough task to loop back around to check the area where they had been seen last and to pick up their trail. It didn’t look like they were making that big an effort to hide their tracks. Overconfidence or stupidity? Either way, it would cost them.
There was no part of him that was at ease, but determination mingled with the trepidation and drove him onward. Sometimes walking, sometimes jogging, at times running outright along the forest floor, always making sure he was on the right path and not losing his heading from where he wanted it to be. His rests were short but enough—not like he could still very well anyway, not from how jittery he was feeling. He wanted this over with. He’d never know peace if he didn’t get them, if he lost this opportunity, but pursuing that goal certainly lost him all of his more momentary peace as well.
Better that than the alternative, though. Better this than walking away and forever thinking how he could have, if he just hadn’t been a coward.
He wasn’t that far off anymore, Gia concluded after stopping to make certain the incautious tracks he was following were still the right ones. His red-tipped ears turned as he scanned the area with all of his senses, rotating his shoulders against the weight of his scythe at his back. Safely with him, ready to unleash some bloody payback... When the time came.
Not yet.
He was straightening himself from his crouch when a sound caught his attention. Barely there, just a rustle, really. Was he wrong about how far from his quarry he was?
But no, that didn’t add up. Upright ears twitched when they informed him the subtle sound was coming from... Up?
That was no animal, was it?