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On A Midnight Clear [Ensi Hotakainen]
Title: On a Midnight Clear
Fandom: Stand Still, Stay Silent
Characters: Ensi Hotakainen
Rating: 13+ for canon-typical violence
Length: 1k
Summary: She's been tracking this thing for several nights. Now, she's finally found it.
Other: Flashfiction written to celebrate the newly-revealed illustration of Ensi Hotakainen, previously known only as Grandma Hotakainen. :D
Using this for prompt 32, "Night".
On a Midnight Clear
The air was crisp, cold. Frost gathered on her eyelashes, on the edges of her coat collar, on the fur bordering and sheltering her face. The snow creaked beneath her boots.
Ensi breathed deeply, felt the air slip in sharply. Slow exit. Warm. Alive.
The moon was bright, scattering over the snow. Its light was more than enough to see by. More than enough to track by. That was good.
Some would have said that it would be best to wait for daytime. Some would have said that it was best to wait for a sliver of sunlight. To hole up in the warmth and the safety of home, to curl up in the security that came in numbers.
Codswallop, as far as she was concerned. Good enough for them, if that suited them, but not for her. Night was just fine.
Besides, this time of year, they only got a few hours of daylight. And the sun hurt her eyes.
And she had something to do. Something that needed to be done. Something that she knew wouldn't stop picking away at her brain, making it itch until she couldn't stand it. She couldn't just let this be.
So, she didn't.
The tracks in the snow had become familiar by now. She had been following this one for three nights. Ensi had come to know its gait, the shape of its feet – paws and long naked toes and more feet than any one being had a right to possess. The way it moved, the kinds of places that it chose to hole up in at night. The way it dragged itself along after someone who wasn't half as good a shot as she was managed by some miracle to get a shallow blow in.
Ensi knew that her bullet wouldn't miss.
She would only need one, anyway. If she used the rifle at all. Maybe she wouldn't. Tracking was one thing, but in the night, in the dark, in the winter silence, a shot would ring out sharp and loud.
No matter how she did it, she wouldn't miss.
She sank to one knee. Dipped her head. Breathed. Scented blood and flesh and decay.
Good.
The tracks were fresh, the freshest she'd seen ever since that night when she slipped away from the settlement, deciding that this was business she'd have to see to herself.
It had taken Myrsky, just like that. One night, it had taken her, while Myrsky was on watch and it was Ensi's turn to sleep. The others chased it away, but there wasn't much left to bury in the end.
It had swept in, taken someone whose name she'd bothered to remember. That meant it was personal.
After that, the damn thing had slipped away from her again and again, making her go on this damn goose chase, and that made it even more personal.
Ensi rose and continued on.
It wasn't long before she came across fresh-turned snow. Ensi slowed, moved steadily, took to the shadows, using what little cover the bare trees offered. Kept her eyes open, her ears open.
There it was.
She stayed in the shadow of a broad evergreen and listened.
Laboured breathing. Wet, bloody wheezing. Whatever had happened when that thing turned, when the illness twisted two beings into one, the merge hadn't done it any favours. Getting rid of it would be putting the damn thing out of its misery.
Was there a chance that it hadn't heard her, hadn't smelled her? Maybe. Ensi's lips moved as she mouthed some words. For silence. For protection. Maybe it would do some good. Then she turned to look out from behind the tree, and saw it.
It was bent over the edge of a half-frozen stream, dipping its muzzle as if to drink. The moonlight was bright on its shaggy, pale head. Some of its limbs were sturdy; others hung limp, sprawling, long fingers reaching. One face looked to the water. The other, she knew, was at the back of its head.
It hadn't seen her yet.
Ensi stepped toward it, as silently as she could. Breathed, but barely dared to. How close could she get? Close enough for the knife? Without being seen? Impossible. And yet, she got closer, closer, somehow, until there were only a few metres between her and it. It was staying still, as if waiting for her.
Her hand went to her knife.
It lifted its heads.
It looked toward her.
Before she could even think, it was on her. Its paws hit her chest and her knife came up and as her back hit the snow she slashed, aiming for that dog-throat.
Every movement was automatic. She didn't think. She didn't need to. Ensi was soundless as she gained back her breath, as she gripped it by what was left of its long human-hair, as she sawed at its throat and ignored its cries, and its struggling, and the gurgling sounds it made, and the way its blood splashed thick and hot and foul over her.
She shoved it off of her as soon as she could. Aimed for its second face, ignoring the screaming, the crying, the half-formed words that it spit out as it flailed its weak malformed hands at her. She stabbed it once, twice, three times, just to be sure.
Then she sat back on her heels and looked at it.
One second. Two. No movement. Nothing.
Done.
Ensi listened, took only one second to gauge if there was something around. No sound, no movement. But that didn't mean nothing was there. She knew that she wasn't as easy to sneak up on as Myrsky had been, but that didn't mean something wouldn't try.
It was time to get a move on, then. She could rinse off later, wash the blood off later, after she'd put some distance between herself and this place.
As she walked along the shallow stream, letting the water wash the blood away from her boots, Ensi glanced up at the moon, bright and round, shining down at her, lighting her way.
"Thanks," she whispered, her lips barely moving. "For the clear night."
End
Fandom: Stand Still, Stay Silent
Characters: Ensi Hotakainen
Rating: 13+ for canon-typical violence
Length: 1k
Summary: She's been tracking this thing for several nights. Now, she's finally found it.
Other: Flashfiction written to celebrate the newly-revealed illustration of Ensi Hotakainen, previously known only as Grandma Hotakainen. :D
Using this for prompt 32, "Night".
On a Midnight Clear
The air was crisp, cold. Frost gathered on her eyelashes, on the edges of her coat collar, on the fur bordering and sheltering her face. The snow creaked beneath her boots.
Ensi breathed deeply, felt the air slip in sharply. Slow exit. Warm. Alive.
The moon was bright, scattering over the snow. Its light was more than enough to see by. More than enough to track by. That was good.
Some would have said that it would be best to wait for daytime. Some would have said that it was best to wait for a sliver of sunlight. To hole up in the warmth and the safety of home, to curl up in the security that came in numbers.
Codswallop, as far as she was concerned. Good enough for them, if that suited them, but not for her. Night was just fine.
Besides, this time of year, they only got a few hours of daylight. And the sun hurt her eyes.
And she had something to do. Something that needed to be done. Something that she knew wouldn't stop picking away at her brain, making it itch until she couldn't stand it. She couldn't just let this be.
So, she didn't.
The tracks in the snow had become familiar by now. She had been following this one for three nights. Ensi had come to know its gait, the shape of its feet – paws and long naked toes and more feet than any one being had a right to possess. The way it moved, the kinds of places that it chose to hole up in at night. The way it dragged itself along after someone who wasn't half as good a shot as she was managed by some miracle to get a shallow blow in.
Ensi knew that her bullet wouldn't miss.
She would only need one, anyway. If she used the rifle at all. Maybe she wouldn't. Tracking was one thing, but in the night, in the dark, in the winter silence, a shot would ring out sharp and loud.
No matter how she did it, she wouldn't miss.
She sank to one knee. Dipped her head. Breathed. Scented blood and flesh and decay.
Good.
The tracks were fresh, the freshest she'd seen ever since that night when she slipped away from the settlement, deciding that this was business she'd have to see to herself.
It had taken Myrsky, just like that. One night, it had taken her, while Myrsky was on watch and it was Ensi's turn to sleep. The others chased it away, but there wasn't much left to bury in the end.
It had swept in, taken someone whose name she'd bothered to remember. That meant it was personal.
After that, the damn thing had slipped away from her again and again, making her go on this damn goose chase, and that made it even more personal.
Ensi rose and continued on.
It wasn't long before she came across fresh-turned snow. Ensi slowed, moved steadily, took to the shadows, using what little cover the bare trees offered. Kept her eyes open, her ears open.
There it was.
She stayed in the shadow of a broad evergreen and listened.
Laboured breathing. Wet, bloody wheezing. Whatever had happened when that thing turned, when the illness twisted two beings into one, the merge hadn't done it any favours. Getting rid of it would be putting the damn thing out of its misery.
Was there a chance that it hadn't heard her, hadn't smelled her? Maybe. Ensi's lips moved as she mouthed some words. For silence. For protection. Maybe it would do some good. Then she turned to look out from behind the tree, and saw it.
It was bent over the edge of a half-frozen stream, dipping its muzzle as if to drink. The moonlight was bright on its shaggy, pale head. Some of its limbs were sturdy; others hung limp, sprawling, long fingers reaching. One face looked to the water. The other, she knew, was at the back of its head.
It hadn't seen her yet.
Ensi stepped toward it, as silently as she could. Breathed, but barely dared to. How close could she get? Close enough for the knife? Without being seen? Impossible. And yet, she got closer, closer, somehow, until there were only a few metres between her and it. It was staying still, as if waiting for her.
Her hand went to her knife.
It lifted its heads.
It looked toward her.
Before she could even think, it was on her. Its paws hit her chest and her knife came up and as her back hit the snow she slashed, aiming for that dog-throat.
Every movement was automatic. She didn't think. She didn't need to. Ensi was soundless as she gained back her breath, as she gripped it by what was left of its long human-hair, as she sawed at its throat and ignored its cries, and its struggling, and the gurgling sounds it made, and the way its blood splashed thick and hot and foul over her.
She shoved it off of her as soon as she could. Aimed for its second face, ignoring the screaming, the crying, the half-formed words that it spit out as it flailed its weak malformed hands at her. She stabbed it once, twice, three times, just to be sure.
Then she sat back on her heels and looked at it.
One second. Two. No movement. Nothing.
Done.
Ensi listened, took only one second to gauge if there was something around. No sound, no movement. But that didn't mean nothing was there. She knew that she wasn't as easy to sneak up on as Myrsky had been, but that didn't mean something wouldn't try.
It was time to get a move on, then. She could rinse off later, wash the blood off later, after she'd put some distance between herself and this place.
As she walked along the shallow stream, letting the water wash the blood away from her boots, Ensi glanced up at the moon, bright and round, shining down at her, lighting her way.
"Thanks," she whispered, her lips barely moving. "For the clear night."
End