They made it to the forest. It was comforting to be among the trees again, to be out of the harsh charms of the desert. The witches too seemed to enjoy the change of scenery, Nevin and Jin wondering at the foreign flora and fauna. Deer bounded around them, quiet spectors, small mammals scurried in the underbrush, bird calls trilled from the foliage above. Objo breathed in deeply, the familiar taste of fresh forest comforting on her tongue.
Despite the solace of returning to the forest, there was a nervous energy among the harpies, the prospect of returning to Nemia from a failed mission weighed on them collectively, an unspoken anxiety. And for Objo personally, the imminent demise of their witch captives. How would Nemia judge them? Would she see into their hearts, as she had done with all previous captives, and deem them guilty of their culture’s practices, or see their individual innocence?
‘Hey, can I check your leg,’ Asil asked, coming up to a seated Iloin. Iloin gestured her acceptance, making room for Asil to crouch before her. Asil carefully unwrapped the bandages, revealing the brace beneath them, nestling around Iloin’s injured leg. ‘It’s healing well,’ Asil said, prodding the bone gently, ‘does this hurt?’ Iloin hissed, ‘still sore, but not as much, I think. Do you, do you think I’ll ever dance again?’ she asked, hesitantly. ‘If I can’t dance, how will I continue my duties? Please, please, tell me I’ll recover!’
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Asil hushed her rising anxiety, ‘of course you will, you just need to stay off it until it’s fully healed. Even if it takes a while, even if you have to learn how to dance again, or even how to walk again, I promise, I’ll be there for every step of the way. I promise you, so don’t cry.’ She shifted, joining Iloin on the downed log the other harpy was sitting on, stroking her hair soothingly. ‘It will be ok, alright?’ Iloin curled into her side, hiccuping as her tears subsided. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, slightly hoarse from her cry.
Asil shook her head, ‘you shouldn’t thank me. It’s my fault this all happened. If only I hadn’t heard about the witch celebration, you wouldn’t have been hurt. Vaara and Imita and the others wouldn’t be gone. It’s all my fault this happened. So, please don’t thank me. Tending to your injuries, it’s what I should do, to atone.’
Objo wondered at that. She didn’t see Asil as one to blame, was surprised Asil took on so much of the fault onto herself. Each of them had made choices leading to this, they had all wanted to come. To bring glory to Nemia and fulfill their righteous task. Which no longer felt as righteous. But she bore guilt too, for Vaara’s injury and death. And perhaps hers was as misplaced as Asil’s.
‘Please,’ Iloin said, ‘you shouldn’t fault yourself. Perhaps this was inevitable, in a way. We couldn’t keep hunting forever and never bear casualties. You shouldn’t take all that on yourself. And you weren’t the one to injure me. The witches were. They are the ones to blame for all of this.’ She cast a harsh glance at the witches among them, ‘they are all guilty.’