Yesterday's writing

Jesse looked different. His wild blue eyes were clouded with boredom, though still clear and cunning, like a wolf's. His dark hair was tousled and matted and he was dressed like a rebel mercenary, no longer wearing the crisp, clean, tailored uniform of a Dunleemar Aimsman. His temperament, however, seemed unchanged. He drew his sword and it's silver edge slid against the mace he carried, drawing a long serpent screech through the air. He lifted the weapon and tapped it against the huntsman's firm jaw. Seeing the huntsman's surprise as the cool metal hit his skin, Jesse raised his eyebrows.

"You are blind?" He said smiling. "My, how well you walk!" The others chuckled slowly, and a cool grin spread like butter across Jesse's mouth. I wanted to cry, burned by his callousness.

He had never been callous before everything that had happened. Before me.
Again, the sting of guilt tickled my heart.

"I have no wife." The huntsman answered, as if he hadn't heard the other comments or the laughter. His voice, mellow and deep like the soft snow, was calming and cool after Jesse's sharp tongue. Ever steady, he didn't take offense at the cruel remark.

"What's the matter? Didn't have any use for one?" Jesse teased, white teeth flashing.

To my surprise, the huntsman smiled back. "All the best left when they heard you were coming."
Laughter rumbled again throughout Jesse's companions, but the merry sound died when they saw their captain's glowering face.

"You have a bold tongue, blind-man. But I suspect it is only because you cannot see what I carry."

"I believe you hold a sword, and also a mace, if I'm not mistaken."

"How did you know?"

"I have good ears."

"And a rash mouth. Will you tell me something I wish to know, or will I be forced to dispatch you here and now?" Jesse asked, guiding the sword back into its hilt.

"Wouldn't that depend on the question you ask me?" The huntsman smiled patiently, as the other man paced. Jesse was slightly younger than the huntsman, yet he suddenly seemed dark, stained and worldly by comparison. The huntsman's blind eyes stared out past the face of the young man threatening him.

"Who are you?"

"I am a hunter."

There was silence.

"Do you not wish to return the inquiry?" Jesse asked abruptly.

"You are a soldier." The huntsman said.

"Wrong!" Jesse cried, pounding his fist against the huntsman's shoulder. "Not a soldier! A soldier implies fighting for a cause, huntsman, whereas I fight for only myself. As a matter of fact, I'm in the revenge business, and seeking a certain renegade king. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

The huntsman said nothing, but I pricked up my ears as Jesse continued. "The king of Dunleemar, in whose great land you have your lovely little house here, has vanished. He is said to have gone mad over the love of a certain young witch, and I am terribly afraid I've misplaced her as well. Tell me," His voice dropped darkly, reminding me of the way he used to say my name. "Have you you seen them?"

I held my breath. The man I had come to know over the past several days was not a liar. If he suspected, then he might say something now. Then he'd be lost. He'd be lost as soon as they saw me. And so would I.

The huntsman looked up, his sensitive ears picking up Jesse's exact position a few feet away. Their eyes met, and again I had the terrible feeling that maybe he did see after all.

"That," Said the huntsman. "Would be impossible, as I haven't ever seen anyone at all."