The Other Side of the Lie (EDITING, ON HOLD)

Six-Mist

Mist kicked the last of the dirt onto Vulture's grave.

"Mist?" It was Hawk. He and Swift had left her to finish the graves once they brought her Vulture's body. She hadn't expected them to come back. She was of no use to them.

Mist turned and her hackles rose the instant she caught sight of what they carried. Hawk had weapons strapped to his chest and arms, and his sword was at his hip. Some of the new ones had come off the corpses, but others were unfamiliar. Swift, too, had weapons that were both familiar and not.

"What's wrong?" Swift asked, tensing and coming alert when Mist growled and slowly backed away. "Do you smell something?"

"We're idiots," Hawk groaned, and started removing his arsenal. Swift stared at him in confusion while Mist stopped moving. "We are walking around with an army's worth of knives and things strapped to us and more or less snuck up on her! Tell me, what do you think might be going through her head right now?" Hawk asked the vampire, irritation in his voice.

Mist didn't really like how they were talking about her as if she weren't present, but she was busy trying to banish the memory of her mother attempting to kill her with a kitchen knife.

"What did we ever do to make her hate us though?" Swift sounded completely dumbfounded.

"Panic attacks." The finality in Hawk's voice told Mist that he knew how bad they could be. "They're usually caused by trauma, PTSD, or even just emotional or instinctual overloads."

"Aren't trauma and PTSD the same thing?" Swift had shed his weapons as well, and crouched down to hold his hand out to Mist as he might have to a skittish dog. She couldn't help but be a little miffed by the gesture.

"Not always," Hawk replied as he mirrored Swift's pose. "Come on Mist, it's okay."

Mist watched them both for a minute, immobile, then darted away into the trees. Behind her, she heard a sigh of disappointment.

"What the-" Swift had leapt to his feet but once he could see what had surprised him, he settled back into his position by the fire.

Hawk had also whirled around but at least he'd lowered his sword. Mist didn't really like to have sharp objects pointed at her.

"So you're back." Hawk gingerly took the pair of dead rabbits from Mist's jaws. Mist nodded in answer and padded over to the stream nearby to wash her muzzle clean of blood.

"Are these some kind of peace offering?" Swift asked as he started to deftly skin and gut the creatures. Hawk made a face when he caught the scent of the guts. To her great amusement, Mist raised her head from drinking just in time to see his skin turn a little green.

Without looking up Swift said, "if you're going to throw up, do it downstream. I don't want to smell it, much less have to drink it. And before you ask, yes, vampires do drink water."

"No, I'm fine," Hawk insisted. Mist snorted.

"I agree with the werewolf," the vampire replied.

"That's not fair, two to one isn't just odds!" Hawk protested playfully.

"Shut up and go find more firewood and sticks to make a spit."

"Why can't Mist do it?" The childish whine was clearly faked, but Hawk was good at pretending to be a spoiled royal brat. "She's the one who can see in the dark. In fact, you can too! Why don't you go? I can tend the fire."

Swift looked up from where he had started to remove the skin from the second rabbit. "You really want to do this instead?"

"No," Hawk hurriedly assured the vampire. Swift grinned, showing a glimpse of his fangs. "I'm going now to get the sticks! And, to be fair, I never learnt any of these things, so you'll have to teach me." Hawk paused. "Oh, and what's a spit?"