Hunter's Pursuit

Legal Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form claim to own any part of Final Fantasy.

I'm not usually the biggest fan of AU stories (at least in the FFXIII domain), but I was suddenly struck by a moment of inspiration and wrote this out in personal record time. At the moment this is just a one-shot; there are no current plans to continue it (since I'm not sure where it would be going), not to mention I should be working on my FFXIII-2 post-ending story (The Forgotten Legacies) instead (end shameless plug here).

Anyways, for those who like context, consider this to be in a Gran Pulse world that never had fal'Cie or l'Cie.

Not too much else to add here. Please read and enjoy! Comments, criticisms, and feedback are always appreciated.

~Logos Minus Pity

Hunting had been tough today. Most of the usual herds of grazers that they hunted had been migrating out of the plains as was wont with the seasons changing; they would be back soon enough. But for now it meant that instead of going out in large hunting parties on the plains, they had to split and focus more on trapping and tracking. Though young, Fang was a rising star of the Yun clan, both a blooded hunter and warrior. Since she was not exactly the best of trappers, she had been given leave to pursue her own marks for the day. While she missed having her adoptive sister and best mate Vanille at her side, when on her own she could push herself as hard and as fast as she wanted.

For today that had meant she ended up tracing the movements of an ugallu for the greater portion of the afternoon. It had been stupid enough to pick a fight with her on the low slopes of the mountain range, but as soon as she had landed the first solid blow against it, it had (wisely, in her opinion) fled, making its injured way higher up into the alpine forest that the hunters and villagers alike only rarely traversed. Fang had been in no rush to end her trek quickly—she knew she had the benefit of endurance and a packed meal over the creature, after all—but now that evening was starting to approach and she was much farther up into the mountainside that what she ever dared before, she was pressing her chase, and she knew she was close.

Picking up her pace, she jogged into a clearing in the woods, and right upon her prey, though not as she expected it.

The ugallu was dead, but not by her hand.

It lay on its side, blood still pouring from its obvious fatal blow: an arrow had struck it perfectly through the throat. It would have been an instant death. Fang looked about, alert for any source of danger—for whomever the owner of that arrow was. She had never heard of anyone venturing so far up into the mountains. Her gaze was immediately caught by something.

At the base of one of the nearby trees lay several objects. They were familiar to Fang, but this far into the wilderness, they were also bizarrely out of place. There was a clutch of plump woodland birds, all freshly killed and strung together; there was a finely tooled leather satchel, imprinted with various patterns and symbols that matched no clans or settlements Fang could think of; there was also a blade the likes of which she had never seen before. It was the same silver as a mirror's edge, elegantly curved and completely spotless, with an inscription engraved along the base near the intricate handle. It was also clearly not designed for hunting, but for fighting. She reached out with her left hand and stepped forward grab the sword and better inspect it.

"Another step closer and it will be your last."

The coldly precise and crisp voice cut through the air like a knife, halting Fang in her tracks. Though the threat was very real, she found herself equally intrigued to see who the owner of the said distinctly feminine voice was. She slowly pulled her hand back, standing up and turning around to demonstrate that she had not yet touched anything, although she kept the other hand tightly wrapped around her spear shaft.

Her eyes searched the forest around her, but she could not find any figures, even with her keen gaze.

"No need to be hasty, now," she suggested, trying to remain calm as she continued looking for the hidden source of the voice.

"I'll be the judge of that."

There!

On a low-hanging branch in one of the larger trees, an arrow was trained perfectly on her face. Fang was more than confident in her skills as a hunter and a warrior of the Yun clan, but even she didn't want to take her chances with the obviously experienced hand focused on her. She scanned her potential opponent rapidly, though it was hard to make out details in the dappled lighting, and the other woman was, smartly, concealed more in shadow than light. It was a woman; that much was sure: young, slender, with pale skin and light hair, and hunting gear that matched neither Fang's village nor any of the others within reasonable distance.

"Drop your weapon," came the sharp order.

Fang responded automatically. "You drop yours and I'll drop mine."

Though the woman's face was obscured by the shade, Fang swore she caught the movement of a raised and bemused eyebrow. "You aren't really in the position to bargain here, now are you?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Fang said, shrugging her shoulders casually. "Maybe you'll be in for a surprise from this pretty little face of mine."

She gave a winning smile and heard the low growl of exasperation from the archer. That was a good sign in her book. She decided to temper her statement. "Besides, I'm only here to collect this guy," she pointed back to the ugallu to clarify any potential confusion.

Fang gave one more concession by taking another step back. There was a moment of tense silence before the taut bow finally relaxed, and then, with an enviable natural grace, the other woman leapt down into the clearing.

As she dropped down from her perch, a glistening white trail seemed to follow her. Once she landed—barely disturbing the bed of leaves and grass with her feet—Fang saw what that white trail actually was, and everything clicked together. The "trail" was a garment, a cape-like mantle that hung from her waist-belt and draped behind one leg. It was not made of cloth, though, but of interconnecting and shining white feathers, more like a vast wing instead.

This woman was a member of the Lost Tribe.

According to the old histories, when the Great War had broken out, all of the vast kingdoms and cities had been pulled in to the world-wide civil war. While many had dived headlong into it, some factions had resisted the conflict longer than others, with varying measures of success. One such faction had been the city-state of Eden. Eden had been a sprawling urban metropolis, a high altitude capital built into the very mountainside of the one of the highest peaks of the central Terebor Range. Their hard-to-reach location and isolationist policies had kept them from the worst for a many years, but eventually they too succumbed as battle spilled across their borders. Their shining capital had been razed to the ground, and almost all of the people had been slaughtered.

Most who managed to live and escape had fled, intermarrying into the other tribes and settlements that had survived through the war-torn land. Rumors had persisted of a Lost Tribe, of a remnant faction of Eden that still lived in their high and hidden aeries in the mountains, where no outsiders or war could take them again; but as the years passed and the known survivors died out, the rumors became legend more than anything else. At least until now.

The histories Fang knew as a warrior always talked about the great Zephyr Guardians, the ancient soldiers of Eden who could move as fast as the wind, and who wore glowing capes of feathers to match with the white griffins that they had once shared their lofty city with.

She also recalled hearing stories about the length of their winged capes and how many feathers they had—the more feathers a warrior possessed, the more proven they were; almost like how her own tattoo showed her value and worth to the Yun clan. She had no other wing-capes in all of living memory to compare to, but everything about the way this woman held herself screamed that she was an individual quite at home with her weapons.

However, as the woman of the Lost Tribe stepped fully into the light of the clearing, Fang was presented with a view that showed more than just a fighter.

She was a vision of fragile caution and deadly grace, different from any of the warriors or hunters Fang had come across, and surely no older than Fang herself. The exposed skin of her arms and face glowed alabaster, as if never touched by sun; her hair was a light strawberry pink, neither copper nor gold but somewhere in between; and her eyes were a piercing blue like a cloudless sky, suspicious and dangerous even as they pinned Fang where she stood. For all that she looked as delicate and beautiful as fine china, Fang knew better than to fully let her guard down.

Keeping her eyes on Fang, she moved soundlessly toward her pack, dropping her composite bow and hooking the fantastical blade onto her belt. Fang noted the exchange and how it indicated that the stranger was likely more at ease with the sword than with the ranged weapon, should worst come to worst. But she was more taken with how the woman was able to move so quietly on the bed of the forest floor while wearing her obviously armored boots. Fang did choose to wear her sandals for a reason.

Realizing that they had unintentionally come to another quiet standoff while she had been reviewing history in her head, she broke the silence again.

"I'm Fang of the Yun clan, from the village Oerba," she moved back and knelt before the fallen ugallu, dropping her spear. After a pause, she heard the woman follow her, and then saw her kneel next to the head as she began to work her arrow out. "I'm a huntress, though I take it this was your work here. Very nice."

"Ah…thank you." She sounded flustered by the compliment. The arrow came free with a sickly wet slap. "You landed a solid blow to injure him first though. He simply crossed me before you reached him."

"Yeah. I'd been tracking this guy almost all day. Got a shot on him back near the plains, but then he took off like a chocobo on a rampage."

The woman turned toward her, a glimmer of surprise showing in her eyes before morphing into a new shade of respect. Her voice was low and husky, pleasing to Fang's ears. "That's quite a ways to track this one beast."

Fang ran a hand over the blood-matted fur. "It's to bring back as food for my village and my sister, so it's more than worth the chase."

Had she not been focused on the dead ugallu, she would have seen how the Zephyr warrior's cold eyes softened visibly with empathy. They both stood, Fang hefting the kill over her shoulders easily before grabbing her spear up again. By the time her palms touched her lance, the other woman had already gathered her own gear together. They stared at each other, both unsure of what to do. Fang wanted badly to ask so many things, but she did need to return home, not to mention she was fairly certain that the Edenian descendent would not be happy or willing to cooperate with her game of twenty questions; she seemed uncomfortable enough with Fang as it was. They are the Lost Tribe for a reason…

Nonetheless, Fang shifted the weight of the ugallu and thrust a hand outward in the typical offering of a hunter's grasp. Surely that was still universal even after the war? The woman eyed Fang's hand at first, but after a second's hesitation, she returned the clasp so that they held each others' forearms firmly, feeling the strength of tendon and muscle beneath skin and bracers.

"May you travel with the wind," she intoned solemnly before Fang could speak. Fang was not familiar with the phrase, and so responded with the traditional parting from Oerba.

"And may the sun be on your back."

And with that, just like the wind, the rose-haired warrior darted away into the trees to head further up the mountain.

"Wait!" yelled Fang, taking a few steps forward. She didn't bother giving chase, though. The other woman had the clear advantage of not only sheer speed but also terrain familiarity. Trying to follow in the fading light was already a lost cause. "You didn't even tell me your name!"

While she scanned the woods, she thought she caught a flash of pink briefly before the voice called back out, both hesitant and amused. "Lightning. My name is Lightning."

Fang stood there dumbly for another few seconds, a small smile growing on her features as she rolled the foreign name on her tongue before going back the way she had come. "Lightning…"

She thought it was more than fitting.