One hundredth fic. Boom.

Story nspired by delcatty546's fic, 'Siren Song'. Title inspired by . . . Maplestory.

A doe nudges her offspring gently. It's a moonlit night; for once in the doe's harassed, fear-filled life, it is peaceful, and the round full moon seems to smile down upon the creature gently, blessing her and her newborn companion that will one day be a fine stag when he grows older.

In the forest, the peace does not last long. A hound's excited howl startles the gentle doe, and she begins to lead the little fawn away, trying to outrun the hunters.

Other howls join in, and the chorus of eager bloodshed, the song of the hunt begins under the eye of the moon who is not the kind, gentle mother she seems.

"There, boy, go!" the hounds leap and run out at the orders of their masters. Each hound has one master, and there are five hounds. A hunting party of young noblemen and their loyal hounds, with ten excited hearts that feel alive, feel vibrant within the forest.

The first hound to run at the doe and her baby is the black on, the hound the hunting party often calls 'Hades' just because of the sheer amount of kills he's brought back to his lucky master. Hades growls, and the doe may very well see the realms of death.

Luckily for the female deer, the dog's master is somewhat compassionate. "Hey, back boy, back!" he yells. "That's a doe with a fawn; get back here!"

Hades stops his growls, and returns to his master with some uncertain whimpers playing at the back of his throat. Has he done wrong?

The master, a young man vibrant with youth and the spirit of the hunt kneels and gives Hades a caring rubdown. "It's good," Ian says, knowing his dog just wanted to please him. "Just don't get the females with the babies, you know?"

The hound does not understand the exact meaning of the words – he is, after all, naught but an animal – but he recognizes the tone of the voice Ian uses and understands the basic gist of the message; he has been forgiven for his mistake. Hades licks his master's face and then bounds away once more with eager barks and the occasional quick sniff for scents, wanting to make up for his slip by bringing more prey.

Ian's brother rolls his crimson eyes as they begin to run after the enthusiastic hounds. "That dog will forget its lesson by the next hunt," Dell states, voice cynical as ever. His red eyes seem lax and tired, but Ian knows that those crimson eyes are piercing the shadowed trees and groves right now, searching for any hidden prey that tries to hide with silence. His hair is pure silver despite his young age, giving him the appearance of one much older than his actual age.

Ian resembles Dell up to a certain point. They look similar, yes, but his hair is pale gold and his eyes are ice blue. Between the two of them, Ian is the one most likely to laugh at a joke that isn't at the expense of an unfortunate idiot.

"His life is short," Ian replies, shifting the leather strap that holds his quiver to his back. "Let him enjoy it."

Dell rolls his eyes, but he stalks forward, ready to enjoy the feel of adrenaline pumping through his veins as he becomes a hunter after prey.

Ian does the same. He will be the one to bring in the most game after this party, just like he has been for the past ten hunts. He bounds away, not bothering to muffle his footsteps; they have already caused enough of a ruckus to scare away all the animals within the area.

As he gets further away, however, he begins to quieten, till at last, all the sounds that crashed and disturbed the natural harmony of the clearing he had been in is gone. There are only the smooth glides that make the smallest of noises that could very well be the grass growing, the trees shifting in their eternally slow but sure movements. His hound is off with one of his friends for tonight; Kaito always borrows his hound on their nocturnal hunts. He likes the challenge of controlling more than one hound and Ian prefers silence in the darkness. It works out well.

The night hunt can be odd. Many beasts are often asleep by this time, and the few that are awake are the true creatures of the night, the ones that can hide perfectly within the shadows and be silent creepers. As if to emphasize his point, an owl hoots. Sometimes being loud wakes the sleeping prey, and the half-awake animals wander half-asleep and unsteady, right into the paths of their arrows. His silence will not have that effect.

It's quite dangerous to be in the dark alone. Ian remembers – with a pang in his heart – of young Rinto, who showed so much promise with his accurate shooting. Too busy watching his older cousin Dell hunt, he hadn't noticed the silent panther above his head, crouching in the sturdy branches until the great cat had leapt onto him.

Dell had been at the cat immediately when he heard Rinto cry out in shock, but the beast had ripped out his throat before Dell slit its own throat and Rinto had died, drowning in his own blood before he could bleed to death.

He snaps out of past memories and is hurtled into the present when he sees a glint in the bushes. His arrow is notched and pointed at that direction in an instant, but nothing moves.

He does not shift. He waits. Eventually, the animal will-

There. The arrow is released, flies, hits its target, and an almost human shriek fills the air. Almost. He knows better.

His blade is in his hands as he hurries towards the bush. A red fox with a dead rabbit next to it. It screams in pain and rightfully so because the arrow has punctured its eye but left it alive.

Ian ends it quickly for him, mutters a prayer for its afterlife, and then gathers up the fox. A large creature with a fine pelt. Worthy kill.

Two rabbits and a sleepy squirrel later Ian sees, of all things, a beaver. He shoots it, killing it instantly, but it isn't until he has the water rodent within his now-heavy game bag that he realizes the full meaning of the beaver he shot.

He is near the water.

There are always tales of the supernatural, the eerily beautiful women who will lure men away with their magic charms and hypnotizing songs, but in this forest, it is particularly so. Each of the bodies of water, the people swear, has a spirit living within, ready to lure their prey in. Even being near the water can be fatal for men.

That is why it is always the women who gather water. They have resistance to the songs of the soulless female creatures in the lakes and rivers.

Ian admits; he is tempted to go and wash off the blood from his hands. It has begun to dry and the scent would be particularly luring to any predator looking for a midnight meal. A threat must be removed, his father taught him and Dell. Dell more specifically because he was the eldest and heir, but it was a valuable lesson good enough for the second-born as well.

A howl runs through the woods and reaches his ears. It isn't the territorial claim of a wolf pack's leader but the familiar one of his hound who wishes to be near his true master.

Ian gives up and claps to better signal his position. By the time his hound is finished with greeting him, his hands will be quite clean.

The hound barrels through, and while Ian indulges the hound with animal bloods, the rest of the party catches up. "You're near the water," ever sharp as a new blade, Dell informs him of what he already knew.

"I see," he says vaguely, politely. Even the second son of a lord knows the speech of advocates and politicians, though he has no particular need of it like the firstborn would.

His friends know him all too well. "One day," SeeWu mutters as he cleans up his arrows. "You'll be in big trouble."

He washes his hands with water from the wineskin someone – Kaito – hands him and eats a piece of bread. "But what a life I have lived," he sighs.

"A philosopher," Dell mutters. "Of all the things I could have had for a brother."

They all laugh and Dell manages a smile, something he's been doing a better job of since he has gotten married to his betrothed. "Time to head back home?" Kaito suggests as he takes back his wineskin.

And that is when they notice that the dogs have their hackles raised, and are growling threateningly. Not to them, but to the direction where their castle is. Hounds do not growl, not unless they wish to truly frighten off the opponent. This is not an opponent to be easily taken down.

They have their hunting spears and bows in hand. Out of the darkness, a bear comes forward. It has probably caught the scent of blood from the game, the bread they ate and what appears to be fragility against its natural immense strength and sturdiness.

The dogs hold ground, and try to look threatening. They do the same. If the bear realizes that it has a greater chance of dying, of getting hurt, then it will leave-

Luck is on their side as the bear decides that it is not worth the effort. It lumbers off with a snort.

Dell is the unofficial leader of the hunting party. Naturally, all turn to him. "Time," he nods and answers Kaito's earlier question.

The dogs are still happy on the way back to the castle, but they stay close to them, and their pace is a trot that is easy to maintain and easy on the lungs and heart. They wish to sleep.

Ian can't blame them. Now, the shadowy dark path back does not excite nor burn his blood with the passion to run under the moon and be free. Now it is a gentle pull towards the realm of dreams and slumber.

Under the spell of moonlight and weariness he does not notice the time and distance passing, only feels that he is in the forest walking back one moment, and in the castle, greeting everyone with a yawn the next. Ian sets his bow down, unstrings it, and just manages to get to his bed before he falls asleep, hunting clothes and all.

The next day his mother scolds him fiercely at the sight of him still in yesterday's stained clothes, talking about family honour and the responsibility of nobility and everything else he already knows by heart but rarely heeds because, well, he is just the second son after everything in the day passes and he won't ever have things at stake like the eldest will. "Go take a bath," she orders at the end of her long, impromptu-yet-rehearsed speech.

He bows without a word and walks off to do so. The charms of the water spirits are always stronger under the moon, just as the fire spirits gain more power under the blazing sun. In the small lake near his castle's entrance to the forest, there will be privacy and he will be safe under the blessings of the sun.

Ian takes his bow with him. For protection against any natural enemies, not against the legendary water spirits. Hades looks up and whimpers, somehow understanding that his master is about to go to the forest – or maybe that is the bow he sees and realizes – but Ian shakes his head and continues to walk. His dog would end up getting wet black fur all over him, and that is something his mother absolutely despises, even more than mud tangled amongst and staining the bed's sheets. It would also defeat the entire purpose of the bath.

It is only a five-minute walk to the small pond. He undresses from the clothes stiff from dried blood and walks into the small pool of water. Despite its size – two men could lie down on the surface of the clear water, head to toe, and reach the other side – it is quite deep, more than capable of drowning someone within its depth.

Ian scrubs off the blood, the dirt, the sweat and the grime. He rubs at his scalp, rinses his hair back to its usual colour and then just relaxes in the cool water, sitting on the slippery rocks underwater.

A rustling sound makes him look back. His clothes, the ones he knew he had carelessly thrown behind on the grass before entering the water to bathe, are missing. Gone, like they were never there.

This is a dilemma. His bow and arrows are in reach and thus threats can be dealt with, but if any maidens were to come for the purpose of gathering water, they will have to be met with properly, not shot. Ian makes a face as he realizes what kind of teasing he will be subject to should that happen. His entire pride is on the line here at this moment.

A splash makes him look forward again, and look he does with shock. Where there was nothing there is now a maiden with long hair like pale gold carelessly left as it is – with the exception of the two small braids at the sides of her head. The hair trickles down in front of her face and hides her countenance in shadows but there is no denying that it is a maiden in the simple knee-length tunic of a hunter washing something on the other side of the pool.

Ian looks a bit closer. She is washing his very clothes, the ones that disappeared like magic.

Magic? Suddenly he feels uneasy. The woman could very well be a sprite of the waters, possibly this very pond. It is more likely that she is the one within this pond, seeing how sprites cannot fully leave their substances for long.

She catches his eye through the wild strands of veiling pale gold, and he is taken aback to see a quick grin, mischievous as a young boy's might be. He begins to cross the pond with broad, quick strokes, afraid she might steal his clothes when she tosses it towards him.

Ian catches his soaking wet clothes and notices their clean state. Not a single stain of blood in neither the black tunic nor the leggings.

She stands up and he sees that her tunic, while one a hunter might wear, is distinctively feminine. White, partly, but with shades of light green and blue and pink and purple, the light and breezy fabric is wrapped around her figure like . . .

Like a dress, he realizes. It's not a hunting tunic she is wearing, but a short dress. That would explain the lack of leggings.

The mysterious laundress curtsies to him and then runs off into the forest, slim shoulders shaking with silent laughter.