A Hunter's Dream

Chapter 2: Smilodon

Tristanna sat in her small office tapping a pen on her notepad unconsciously. Her expression was one of sympathy and concentration, her head nodded from time to time in understanding at the plumb little lady sitting in front of her and telling endless complaints about her marriage drying out.

Mrs. Watkins was what Doc Valentino labelled a hopeless case, though he wasn't even quite sure himself if his statement referred to her problems or more to his own ones whenever seeing her name appear on his daily schedule. Tristanna had worked for the downtown psychologist, a specialist for relationships, for more then two years now. Her empathic gift, as the doctor used to refer to her certainly unique talent among his trainees, turned out to be a quite convenient way of earning her daily living without drawing too much attention to herself. She became his best and most successful employee within the period of two short months. She seemed to be able to understand exactly the patients' hidden needs and inner desires for guidance, acceptance, praise, encouragement, approval, an open ear or whatever else they were craving.

In the case of Mrs Watkins that should be a gag! Ahh, wishful thinking, Tristanna murmured to herself as her thoughts trailed back to that picture, which actually even caused a small smile to flatter over her lips. It was wishful thinking indeed but not hers! It came from someone else, or more precisely from the other side of the glass door. She broke into a bright grin and rose from her seat, heading straight for the door to her patient's great astonishment.

- Oh! Doctor Shadow? Is there something wrong? Would you like me to get you a glass of water or ... - her voice died off as Tristanna gestured for a bold middle aged man waiting patiently outside to come in.

Mrs Watkins always claimed that it would be way too embarrassing for her better half to come along to the counselling session, although he used to drive her most of the time. Tristanna found that to be an honest conviction of hers, so she never questioned it before, but a quick check on Mr Watkins' thoughts indicated that he wasn't half as narrow sighted and up tight as his wife believed, spreading another broad grin on the Doc's face when Tristanna told him about their accidental breakthrough later that afternoon.

Being done with her daily assignments she headed for home. Home? she thought sighing, since Grey's visit it seemed further away then ever before. Vehicles were something she still couldn't get used to and therefore preferred to walk whenever in town, her apartment being only on the other side of the park. She skipped her usual rounds of floaty cappuccino at Angelo's Café and walked along without even noticing her surroundings, trying to block out all the thought that came flattering her way.

She was positive that she should have felt unsettled because of the received news from her family and yet it wasn't fear that engulfed her mind, keeping it off her daily routine, rather a melancholic, somewhat longing flair that took control of her heart.

It had been three days, since Grey appeared, three days or even longer since the Smilodon had entered the hunt. And yet, no signs of him around. True, she had a very special connection with her mentor, who knew her probably even better than the members of her own House, so he might have found her fairly quickly, having been watching over her all the while. But still, the Smilodon was a master of his art, he should have found her by now no matter where she'd tried to hide.

The dim hope that the Emperor might have changed his mind or that perhaps Grey had talked to her twin brother, had both occurred to her, but she discarded both ideas almost right away, neither of them serving the interest His Highness had in preserving the sensitive balance of power among the noble Houses of his land.

The Smilodon had been unleashed, she was certain of that, yet refused to run away. How much time would it gain her anyway? Not more than a few hours and much disapproval to face at home.

So the days passed, one after the other, ever so slowly. And Tristanna's mind kept travelling back in her memories, recalling the first and only time she had met the bred beast, as she turned the key arriving at her apartment.

She went over her daily routine, securing the lock, dropping her bag, flipping off her sandals and headed straight for the bathroom after grabbing an icy soda from the fridge. She run the water and prepared for her cool bath, like every single day after work. The summer was getting this year especially hot, though it had been only early June, but already making her feel filthy and disgustingly sweaty after a long day.

She followed her routine, however her mind returned through time and space to the adorable picture of a little boy with tousled hair, black as the darkest night and the most iciest pare of pale blue eyes she had ever come along, which still caused shivers run down her spine. He wore such a stern look, knuckles turned white as he held on stubbornly and in rage to the bars of the rustic cage. One could tell from a mile how much he disliked being put on display.

Tristanna let out an unconscious sigh of pleasure as she eased her body into the cool water. She for sure missed a lot of her gifts and power from the time previous to her exile, but as for it's physical sensation and sensitivity the human body turned out be quite a treat in moments like this.

However, her thoughts soon wandered back to her Smilodon. He had been exactly that, her own and choice, if only for the shortest of time. She recalled walking around the slave market, with her father's hand resting on her shoulder. Tristan had wandered off, as usually, giving Grey and the guards a hard time finding him.

Tarad allowed his daughter to pick or at least suggest some of the newest subjects he was about to purchase. He seemed quite pleased with her obvious growth of power and skill as she scanned through the 'mindless beasts' with curiosity and care showing. She was indeed the apple of his eye, growing into a rare pearl of talent, obedience and grace, that already seemed to show in her along with her great potential at the tender age of a child. The contrast to his only son and heir couldn't have been any more eye-catching, trying his patients often and earning their mother a lot of effort of convincing him of the values of such a rough diamond as Tristan had been.

She remembered walking up to the cage boldly, which was deposited atop of another as the little beast caught her attention. Oddly enough, she could sense anger and hate radiating from him with such an intensity that it scarred her despite the bars and the secure feeling of having her father right by her side. But as he saw her, she immediately felt his change of temper, along with a change of heart in her own bosom, which caused her to cross the security lines and step up right next to the strange creature.

Tristanna was flooded with curiosity, her own and his as well as she reached tentatively through the bars to touch his face. He felt so real. He was just another 'mindless beast', born and bred to be a thoughtless servant in the Land of Shadows, a warrior, a guard, or a hunter. Nothing more. He will live without the power to chose his own fate, as the loyal and mindless possession of one of the noble Houses. Ready to kill himself at a single thought of his future Master, never experiencing what seemed to her own kind as natural as breathing to him, reading and controlling the minds and actions of such like him and determining one's own fate.

It was the first and only time she met him, the first and only time she pitied the mindless. It lasted but a mere second. As she pulled her gentle fingers away from his cheek she felt a sharp, white hot pain run through the back of her hand. It happened so quickly, while his disappointment seemed to shield his true intentions from her inexperienced exploration, that she couldn't find the time to erase the thought of attack from his mind. She cried out as blood started to drip down into the sandy dirt of the market from her delicate fingers.

The damage was done. Unshed tears made her emerald eyes glassy as her father knelt next to her, examining the wound. If he hadn't been so concerned about my well being, I wouldn't have all this trouble now! He would have killed him in a second, Tristanna murmured remembering, as she stroke her fingertips along the scar the Smilodon had scratched upon her hand. She could have it made disappear easily by the power of the healers, she knew, but somehow she had just kept it. She told herself it was a sign to warn her never ever to pity a mindless again.

As her father scooped her up in his arms, carrying her personally towards the healers' tent, rather than making a guard do so, she glanced back at the caged boy who wore a hurt expression on his face. Perhaps the unknown sensation of pain was taking over her senses back then, but she could have sworn that there was at least a hint of satisfaction among his intense emotions as well.

Smilodon, which he became called upon her very idea, was bought by the mighty Tarad and trained at the School of Hunters for many years in a distant province. After he completed his training with excellence, his instincts being highly praised by his mentors as well as his obedience, he was given as a gift of honour to the Emperor, since Tristanna's father felt it to be a great waste to simply discard the life of such a talented beast, but still didn't want to have him anywhere near his House.

- He had been such an adorable little boy ... with dimples. - She giggled, splashing some water around as she got out of the tub with goosebumps forming on her skin. And still ... had become the unmerciful, she thought her heart falling. The first hunter of the House of Tristan, grace to His Highness the Emperor, Tristanna frowned inwardly.

Actually it was an ironic twist of fate. His future became sealed the day she chose him from among so many on the slave market. Now he would get a perfect revenge in hunting her down and forcing her to return home and face her own fate-to-be, chosen and forced upon her by the power of others, as if she wasn't even herself more than a common, mindless beast.