The day passed in silence, Ash’s footfalls drumming out a steady, unrelenting tempo. Despite himself, Raj feel asleep. He awoke, still hung over the Hunter’s broad shoulders, the sun low in the sky.

“Mugh.” He grunted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinked, then looked around with bleary eyes. He saw rolling hills, covered with rows and rows and rows of twisted, gnarled grape vines in various stages of growth. “Where are we?”

“Bluestone Vineyards.”

The name meant nothing to Raj; part of him regretted asking.

“How far have we gone?” he tried instead.

“Hundred twenty miles. Give or take.” Ash crested the next hill, slowed, then stopped. “Letting you down now.”

Raj slid from Ash’s shoulders like a drunk cat, landing awkwardly, but on his feet. He stretched, twisting, muscles sore from the journey.

“What now?”

Ash gestured at a small building at the top of the next hill.

“Dinner.” He said, starting off towards it.

“If food all you think about?”

Ash ignored him. He continued, Raj following, coming to the servants entrance. He pounded three times with the end of his quarterstaff against the wooden door. A ragged looking woman answered it with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

“Who’s-oh.”

“Good evening.” Ash said, politely. “Table for two, please.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Right away.” She said, then shut the door. Ash walked to the nearby cellar door and waited.

“How come you don’t talk to me like that?” Raj asked, jealous.

“Not going to lie to you.”

Raj frowned, not entirely understanding or believing.

The door swung open, revealing the woman standing there.

“Right this way.”

They followed down a set of well worn wooden stairs into a cool, humid basement to a hastily set table nestled between casks of wine. Ash took a seat; Raj followed hesitantly.

“The house special.” Ash told the woman. “And a double portion for me.”

The woman nodded mutely and hurried off.

“And wine!” he called after her. “White. Top shelf.”

There was no response, just the thundering of her feet up the stairs.

Ash put his feet up on a nearby cask of wine and let out a contented huff. Raj shifted in his seat.

“Nice place?”

“Mm.”

He looked around; the basement was dimly lit, candleglow illuminating wine barrels and storage crates. Raj looked back at Ash, whose eyes were unfocused.

“Another friend of yours?”

Ash’s slitted pupils snapped to him.

“No.” He picked up the fine silver knife next to his plate and spun it in his hand absentmindedly. “Mediated a dispute. Owed a favor.”

“Dispute over what?”

“Wages.”

“Oh? How’d it end?”

“The landowner agreed to increase his worker’s wages. They agreed not to kill him.”

Raj’s eyebrows raised.

“What were they beforehand?”

“Five percent of the harvest, distributed amongst themselves.”

Raj frowned.

“How much is that?”

“Just enough to survive.”

“Ah. And you? What was your role in all that?”

Ash shrugged.

“Hunter’s code compels me to stop universal crimes. Slavery, for instance.”

“And what’d you get out of it?”

The woman returned with an open bottle of wine and two glasses, placing them on the table none too gently. Ash gestured to her with his hand.

“Thank you.” Ash told the woman’s retreating back. He grasped the bottle and poured himself a glass with unexpected grace and familiarity. He lifted it to his nose, inhaled, then took a sip. He set it down on the table.

“None for you, I assume.”

“Pass.”

Ash nodded, and took another sip. They were small, deliberate motions, savoring every drop. The surface level went down perhaps a tenth of an inch.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“You are a very odd individual.” Raj finally said.

Ash grunted and shrugged. Raj leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm.

“Why white wine?”

Ash put the glass down, scowling.

“You don’t know me.” His voice, normally a deep baritone, dropped into a growl like that of a dangerous animal.

“Let’s get to know each other then. What’s your favorite food?”

“Don’t have one.”

Raj rolled his eyes. Ash sipped his wine.

“Not really fond of steak.” He admitted, setting the glass down. “Or fish.”

“See? Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Ash grunted noncommittally.

“Why not?” Raj asked.

“Boring.”

“Really?”

“Sometimes.”

The woman returned, pausing the conversation, roasted rabbit on a bed of spinach and spätzle in a white cream sauce. For Raj, the hindquarters; for Ash, the entire animal. Ash calmly picked up his cutlery and began to eat. Raj hesitated, then swallowed to calm his rolling stomach and plunged his fork into his meal. In a practiced motion, he held it in place with his vestigial arm, using his other arm to cut off a piece. He chewed it thoughtfully.

“’s good.”

“Mm.”

The rest of the meal passed in silence. When they were done, the woman returned and cleared their plates.

“Anything else?”

“A coffin.”

Raj blanched.

The waitress left them. Ash sipped his wine.

“It’s a pastry. Relax.”

“I am relaxed.” Raj said, forcefully.

Ash said nothing.

Soon enough, the woman returned with a small rectangular cake dipped in chocolate and topped with curled frosting, flanked with a little fork. Ash picked it up and began to eat.

“You know, you don’t seem like the kind of person who eats pastries.”

Ash took a bite off the fork, then swallowed.

“Don’t assume anything. About anyone.”

“Yeah?”

Ash set down his fork and peered at Raj over steepled fingers.

“Those men thought you an easy kill. It got them killed.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

“You know, I was actually having an alright time tonight.”

Ash frowned, then said nothing.

“You did well. Better than anticipated.”

“Thanks.” Raj drawled, voice heavy with poisonous sarcasm. Ash shrugged.

“Needed you to hold your own and stay alive. Well done.” He said with deadpan sincerity.

There was a simmering tension in the cramped room.

“You’re a bit of a cunt. You know that, right?”

Ash considered this for a moment.

“Been told before.”

“Well it’s true.” Raj snapped.

Ash inhaled, then let out a long sigh. Suddenly, he shot to his feet and left the table and the basement.

The night was cool and quiet. Ash stood at the exit of the cellar, eyes wandering over the rolling hills of the vineyards. After a moment, he heard Raj’s footsteps on the wooden staircase behind him. The cellar door slammed shut with a clang.

There was a moment of dreadful awful silence. Ash whirled around, cloak whipping through the air, trapping Raj between him and the wall of the structure. Raj instinctively stepped back, but found it impossible to retreat any further. Ash towered over Raj. Mothers the world over warned problem children that Hunters would take them away and eat them if they don’t behave. Of course, Raj had no idea of this, but in that moment, he understood what they felt, huddled under covers and hidden under beds.

“Know how many people I’ve killed?” the Hunter exploded.

“No.” Raj said, voice shaking.

“Me neither.” A clawed, leathery hand grabbed the scruff of Raj’s shirt and slammed him against the stone wall. “I’d give anything to know what it’s like. Innocence.”

Ash spat the last word out like a mouthful of rotten fruit. Raj winced and pulled away, the breath hot on his neck. It smelled of the roasted meat he had just eaten, with a treacherous undercurrent like a shark in deep blue waters.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead. You don’t know me. Don’t act like it. You haven’t the right.”

He shoved Raj against the wall one final time and stormed off.

Sleep escaped Raj that night, watched carefully, unceasingly, by Ash, either from the day’s events or from brutish nightmares that awoke him shaken, sweat-drenched, and screaming, the cries dying in his throat as he shot up. The next morning, he lay on his side and watched the sun rise over the gently rolling hills. He wordlessly accepted a dried sausage from Ash and followed him down the road, lost in thought. It was near midday before he spoke.

“Who were those people?” He asked.

Ash turned his head and looked at him, but did not slow his pace.

“I had to kill someone. I deserve to know why.”

Ash let out a long sigh.

“People hate outsiders.”

“It’s more than that. I’m not stupid.”

Ash grumbled.

“Of course. It’s…it’s…” He shook his head, frustrated. “Bleedin’ fuck, I’m not a historian.”

“Obviously.” Raj deadpanned. Ash whirled to face him.

“Cunt and cock, someone tried to kill you but you killed them first. Ain’t that enough?”

“Maybe for you! Not for me!”

The gears turned in Ash’s head, but left him with nothing to say. He let out an angry huff and started down the path again, faster than before.

“We’ll get you a sword as soon as we can.” He said. “One you can hold onto.”