The Wild Hunt

No One But The Trees

It's around midafternoon by the time the sun finally wakes Dominick up. Not in the middle of the rye field however, but hidden under the trees surrounding it, a bed of golden feathers bigger than him underneath, a warm and comfortable blanket covering his body.

But once he sits up and opens his eyes, it becomes clear that the blanket is no such thing.

No.

Protecting his body from the elements is a coat.

A long and red coat, long enough to cover him almost entirely, red like the blood in the open air, red like wine preserved for centuries. With thick and heavy gold buttons, shaped like the leaves of an unknown tree, fused with the fabric to stand the worst treatment of all. With golden thread embroidery on the sleeves, on the rims. Leaves and flowers, suns and moons, constellations and deers, all carefully done, all so detailed they look like they could jump out of the fabric. The inside is covered with dark fur. Soft to the touch, warm and cold at the same time, with the feeling of underwater moss.

It's Arlequin's coat.

And so close, having slept on it for so long, Dominick can clearly smell the scent left in it, like woven in between the fabric.

It smells like the earth after the rain.

Smells like the grass where the horses run.

Smells like ozone, like the electricity in the air when the shadow wolves run.

Smells like a storm, like a natural disaster nothing can stop.

Smells like blood, but not the blood of a human or an animal, but the blood of angels, of demons and Moons and Gods.

Of Prey.

It smells like Arlequin.

He feels almost high when he lifts the coat, when he buries his nose in the fur and inhales deeply. He wants to fill his brain with it, to make sure he never forgets. Wants to soak in it, so it clings to his clothes, to his skin and his flesh, so even if his heart stops, it will remain above all others.

He feels drunk, drunk on all the meanings of this coat.

Because Arlequin gave him time to think, gave him an option, because he respects him and his decisions, because he views him as an equal and wants this choice to be only his.

But that doesn't mean he can't make his intentions clear.

Doesn't mean he couldn't give him something that leaves his scent on him, that marks him as his.

It is more than just an invitation to join the hunt, he understands that know.

More than just a beast of shadow and hunger, more than just a hunter riding the storm.

An invitation to follow him, Arlequin, to join him and no one else.

Dominick stands up, his legs shaky and his body getting goosebumps, and puts the coat on. Slowly, reverently, like it would vanish the moment he loses sight of it. Preparing to go back to his everyday life, to think among the walls covered by pelts and bones.

Is one or two sizes bigger than him, enough for the sleeves to cover his hands if he lets them, but that just makes it even more perfect. Protecting him from more than just the heat and the cold with the soft and thick fur, but from the air, the sun, the rain.

The world.

And then he feels it, something heavy on one of the pockets. His hand closes around something smooth, not a perfect sphere but maybe slightly outstretched. And when he lifts it to his face, it feels like his heart stops beating altogether, like the air has escaped from his lungs.

It's an eye.

An eye that he needs two hands to fully hold.

A crystal eye, black and golden, smooth like a gem.

Empty.

Dead.

Is one of the eyes of The Moon he hunted the night before.

A gift for him, because Arlequin knows him more than anyone else.

Because he listened to every single one of the words they whispered to each other at the light of the fire like they truly mattered.

Because, to him, they really, truly mattered.

And that's why he knows, he knows how much eyes mean for him.

Knows that the mere idea that he could be as dead as the town that traps him, that his eyes could be empty, could be glass, buttons, plastic, ice of the people and not light, not alive like the animals terrifies him more than anything else.

That's why he gave him the eye.

This life no longer belongs to a Moon, no longer belongs to the night and the sky.

It now belongs to Dominick.

And if he fell down on the bed of feathers, with the coat covering his body, weak but safe, protected.

If he clutched the eye to his chest and cried. Because it was a feeling he never had felt before, because it was someone closer to a storm, to an earthquake than a human who showed him affection for the first time.

If he thought right there, that no one would ever love him like this.

Well, there was no one but the trees to see.