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The Hunter Between	By : BurneHazard Category: +A through F > Diablo III Views: 6166 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Diablo III (3) and all content therein is the property of Blizzard Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I make no money from writing it.

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            Wood crackled and snapped as fire consumed it like a ravening beast. The sound was almost as comforting as the voices speaking at its source. But she was too far away from both to allow the flames to warm her or the chatter drag her into the conversation. If she had wanted to, she could have heard every word they said. Her attention was directed away. Although the waning moon shed poor light for her to see very far in the night, there was enough light to make shadows and shapes stand apart from one another.
            Nothing was stirring save her breath where it fogged very faintly near her lips. Even with the onset of spring to the land, the nights had a tendency to cling to the cold side. It gave the hope that whatever might normally be of threat would sequester itself away in the warmth of some enclosed space rather than prowl free. A mere spark of hope was not enough for her to risk life and limb on. So, it was her watch while the others enjoyed their camp and caught some sleep. It was doubtful she would find sleep a willing partner anyhow.
            A laugh broke more sharply from the campfire behind her. Turning her head barely a quarter of an inch, Shandra took a moment to identify it. Lyndon. He had all but recovered since they had met up with the wizard Chaende and his party in Caldeum that fateful night. The strange crusader accompanying the kid had been able to heal the scoundrel almost fully. Only the broken bones pained him since they were apparently far more difficult to mend magically and had to go through a more natural process.
            Meeting the young wizard again had brought something else to light. As had been hinted at toward the beginning of the entire mess in New Tristram, the nephalem were not gone. They had begun to resurface--or perhaps, re-emerge. Chaende was one. Those he traveled with had the same potential. While she and her little band had been on the spearhead to strike the source of the impending evil, the wizard and other budding nephalem had been holding the lines throughout all lands to aid in stemming the tide of demons and other corrupted beings.
            The faint rustle of half-dry grass alerted her that someone was approaching. It came from behind rather than in front. Listening to the progress, Shandra's eyes turned more to a distant point in the sky just above the darker horizon of the trees and earth.
            "You conceal your presence almost as well as a demon itself, hunter," came from below.
            "That is the point, is it not?" she asked.
            The tree gave the slightest hint of a jolt as a heavy weight came to rest against the trunk. Bark scraped over metal before her visitor went still. Only after a few moments of quiet did she finally turn her attention away from the dark horizon to glance down.
            "Just like the eyes of a wolf at the edge of a fire," rose the voice.
            Blinking, she did not even bother to shrug, merely watching the play of the distant fire over the metal armor the crusader yet wore. Everyone else had shrugged most of the harder armaments off for the softer comfort of warm furs and blankets to sleep in. The man leaning against the tree trunk beneath her perch remained ever-shielded and ever-armed. It was something she could come to appreciate if she permitted herself such a luxury.
            "Did you need something, crusader?"
            "You did not join us for the evening meal."
            "I have my own fare to sustain me."
            "Is your friend part of that particular repast?" he asked.
            Her eyes narrowed at that before she looked away from the fire-edged form. Silence fell once more although it was a little more terse than prior. Finally, the man spoke again in a softer tone.
            "I have encountered demon hunters before. They are marked by the darkness that they escaped from in ways...I will admit, I fail to comprehend. In fact, I even spent some time hunting alongside one of you some months past. He was...a very curious creature."
            The hunter remained quiet. She did listen but her attention was again aimed outward to the land around their little camp.
            "Lyndon has entertained us with many stories since we encountered you. While part of me scoffs at some of the more outlandish tales, others have spoken much the same about you and your deeds."
            "And it grates against you that the agent of Diablo's demise is one tainted by demons?" she finally asked after a few more moments of silence.
            "A little, yes," he admitted. "Perhaps not as much as I thought it would."
            "Isn't that a strange view for a crusader to hold given your faith in the light?"
            Bark cracked and scraped again as he shifted. When she glanced down, she saw the dark shapes of his arms rise as he gripped his helm. Lifting it free, he gave a small shake of his head and lowered the piece down to rest near his chest. Even though they were a good distance from the fire, the warm light caught on the man's fair hair and made it seem a corona of tiny threads of flame crowned him.
            "I follow the Zakarum. And I am a crusader, not a paladin or a templar like your Kormac. Everyone has the right and the freedom to believe in what gods or power they wish. It is when those beliefs bring harm and danger that such problems must be met and solved swiftly."
            "A noble view," she murmured.
            "Perhaps. It seems to serve me well enough. I am more interested in your view however. Somehow, I do not think it is as dark as you wish to believe."
            Sighing, Shandra looked back down and just studied the shadowed figure. The crusader was staring out into the night. He was probably aware of her scrutiny but chose to give her time to reply. Instead, she simply gave a minute shake of her head and looked back out into the night. They shared the time in silence. It was a small bubble outside the fringe of the others.
            "I do not think you are as dark as you believe yourself to be."
            She remained silent. He apparently took the silence to be an invitation to continue.
            "You may not have let us see the face beneath your mask, but that does not mean I have been blind to the extent of your injuries. Or to other things since Chaende brought us to you."
            "You are rambling now, crusader."
            "My name is Fairmont."
            "I know."
            "You no longer move with a limp," he continued as if she had not interrupted and attempted to derail his musings. "After the lucani attack at the desert border, you no longer favored your leg. When the kazrah attempted to ambush us yesterday, you still moved slow and jerky."
            Sighing, Shandra finally looked back down to the man. A faintly glowing gaze met her own. His eyes were touched by the blue of a dreamscape tropic sky. It was new enough to draw her full attention. Granted, it did not cause her exasperation to fade in the slightest.
            "Is there a point to your words, crusader?"
            "Tonight, you move like a shadow in the darkness. The pain and death you wrought has been healing what the light could not."
            Eyes narrowing, she felt muscle tick along both sides of her jaw. Snorting at that, she turned her gaze back to the horizon.
            "I heal fast, crusader, always have."
            "Not in this way, unless I am mistaken. You may think you conceal your worry well, but I am no stranger to reading things people are unaware of revealing in their behavior."
            Despite her growing irritation, Shandra remained quiet. There was a flicker of movement to the far left of her vision but the avian was flying in a line that did not bring it toward the camp.
            "You are afraid."
            That certainly caught her attention but she refused to look down at the crusader.
            "Why have you not turned your fear to hate as your path decrees?"
            Her silence remained. In fact, she was careful to emit nothing but a mild anger rather than the cold temper that was burning in her throat and chest. This "Fairmont" was beginning to prove quite a niusance and irritation.
            "You should have more faith in those who hold you as friend." He moved, causing bark to scrape against his armor. "Unless you can find faith in yourself."
            Shandra looked down as the man turned to step back toward the fire. Most of the conversations had died down as the group sought the warmth of their blankets for sleep. Apparently, Fairmont was ready to join them before he tried to relieve her watch. Not that he would succeed this night. She turned her focus outward once more.
            "Lyndon may just enjoy the pain if you are the one inflicting it."
            "What?" Shandra asked before she could stop herself.
            The crusader paused and bowed his head. All she could see was his back but both elbows were bent and there was a glimpse of the helm held in his hands from the angle of her perch.
            "You know what I mean, hunter. But if I must explain, then you should ask Lyndon--"
            "Mind your own buisiness, crusader. Not everyone wants your 'help' in this world."
            "You may not desire it, but Lyndon does."
            "Then go help him."
            Fairmont slowly turned back and looked up straight into her eyes.
            "I am. Because what he nees help with is you, hunter."
            Shandra felt a growl rising in the back of her throat. The sound, however, came from near the base of the tree she perched in. The crusader glanced down to find a coal black wolf peeling from the night. Its head was down, fangs bared, eyes burning like twin crimson embers.
            "I did not ask him to follow me, in fact I attempted to avoid this very situation."
            Fairmont looked back up. She could see that odd dreamscape glow in his eyes. Nothing else was present and it made her own eyes narrow with wariness.
            "I've been watching the others as well. I've seen how you pull away any time he gets close or tries to approach you, hunter. Something happened to drive a wedge between you. Something tied into his recent condition."
            "He's a stubborn fool," she said.
            "He's a fool in love," came the unexpected reply.
            "Just what is it you're digging for, crusader?" she snapped.
            Fairmont turned back around, looking straight at her.
            "He followed you because he loves you, even if he refuses to admit it to anyone including himself. You shove him away because you care enough for him to be afraid you'll hurt him because of what you are. The only people you are fooling are yourselves."
            "Mind your own buisiness, crusader."
            "Everyone needs light in their life, Hunter Shandra. Especially those with the darkest paths. If you are afraid of what you are facing, then perhaps you need what you fear the most."

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Author's Note:

            Been way too long since I updated this, and I do apologize. I fear that without feedback, my muse dried up. Since things have stabilized somewhat in my life, I figured I would return to pick this back up again. It's been several months since I played Diablo 3, but the characters themselves have lingered as well as the storyline. Hopefully you won't find too huge a change in the writing. I'm actually about to a point where this little half-fic filler is finished. And I still do plan to write a third--and final--little blurb to cover the expansion Reaper of Souls. We'll see if the muse stays around.
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The Hunter Between