<i>The day before...</i><br/><br/>The line held.<br/><br/>It surprised Carson at first, when they had dug in deep and met the first charge with gunfire and steel. Then the second and the third. The entire day had gone extremely well, for what it was. Of the twenty-four he had brought twenty were still on their feet, and the four who weren't had only taken flesh wounds. The line they had made ran along a town wall, one of only two still standing in the first of the settlements they'd gone to. The town itself had been flattened, the buildings torn apart and the citizens slaughtered or scattered. The supplies had been left mostly intact, though, and the walls that still stood were sturdy. The force that had come against them was smaller than he'd anticipated; reports had suggested at least a thousand Vanguard soldiers on the march, but here there were less than a hundred.<br/><br/>Less than fifty, now that he and his people had shown up.<br/><br/>Still, they'd fought ceaselessly for hours on end. He could see it in their faces. No amount of training could prepare a person for sustained combat, for the constant spikes of adrenaline followed by a slump in activity, and then another vicious spike of fear and energy and chaos. He had trained them well, but they wouldn't last forever. He walked the line, inspecting weapons and murmuring words of encouragement, until he found Luke, sitting alone at his post, rifle propped against the metal sheeting of the wall. Carson eased down next to him, taking a deep breath. "Looking well rested. Where's Max? I thought he was here with you."<br/><br/>"He was. Went for ammo during the last push, I think he might be taking a nap. Kid's exhausted, Carson."<br/><br/>"We all are." Carson sighed again. "We need reinforcements, and we need them quick. Just another couple of squads, fresh bodies, fresh guns. I need you to take the run back to Central. Leave your kit, we can use it elsewhere and you need to haul ass."<br/><br/>Luke paused, and Carson could tell he was struggling with the impulse to argue. Fortunately enough sense won out, though, and he unclipped his vest and harness, shrugging both off and onto the ground. "Malia's going to want to come."<br/><br/>"I know she is. Tell her to stay put."<br/><br/>"To hell with that. I know you're scared, but--"<br/><br/>From the center of the line a shrill whistle sounded, three short blasts, then a longer pause, then three more blasts. Carson reached for the rifle at his shoulder and checked the ammunition in his clip. "No time to argue, Luke. Go. Haul ass, like I said, bring back enough people to crush what's left of these bastards." Carson turned away before Luke could answer, climbing the small ridge so he could peer over the wall. The forty-odd Vanguard soldiers left had begun to advance, carrying shields made out of chunks of the other walls, each painted with the red crossed swords that the soldiers fancied.<br/><br/>He had just taken aim when he heard a grunt behind him and turned to see Luke struggling with a figure dressed all in furs, wearing what looked like a deer skull as a helmet. A Huntsman. Carson turned, aimed, fired, and the man dropped in a heap in front of Luke, who looked shocked but unhurt. "GO!" Carson bellowed as another five Huntsmen seemed to leap from the grass around them, though two fell to his rifle before they could get too close. Luke took the chance and darted through them before they could close the gap, feet pounding the grass as he tore away from the front and south, toward Central. The last thing Carson saw before yet another of the skull-wearing madmen rose up behind him was Luke looking over his shoulder. Then something heavy and hard smashed across the back of his head and he dropped, bereft of awareness and sense in one fell swoop.<br/><br/><i>... and now back to the present.<br/>
</i><br/>Carson groaned as consciousness returned, carrying a hefty dose of sharp, throbbing pain along with it. Water splashed over his face and he sputtered, shaking his head by reflex before the sharp twinge and ache made him stop. "Easy, now, Strider. You took a pretty nasty hit. Of course, it was necessary, but you know how these things can be." The voice was unfamiliar. Carson had yet to open his eyes, but when he did he could see the speaker, a slight figure with their back to him. The furs they wore marked them, though. A Huntsman.<br/><br/>It didn't take long to surmise that he had been tied down, too. Into a chair, specifically, a sturdy wooden one. He seemed to be in a tent of some kind, a flap in the ceiling allowing in enough light to see clearly by. He could see a pair of cots, one of them occupied, and a series of bags and barrels next to one of them. The Huntsman in front of him was standing at a table with all his gear on it; rifle, pistol, knife, armor, everything he'd had on him when he'd been caught. Carson sighed and leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. "So is this the part where you torture me for information?"<br/><br/>"Nah. We don't need to." The Huntsman glanced back at him, voice husky and soft. The one eye he could see was green, a color that was both strangely similar but alien to him. He realized all at once that the Huntsman before him wasn't a man at all, but a woman, the shape of her face too slender and soft-looking. Her voice matched, too, however softly she spoke. He tugged at the ropes around his arms, but even if they were loose each arm was tied in three places. There was no way he could break loose.<br/><br/>Instead he shook his head. "I didn't know your raider clan took women. Most of them are too sexist to admit that a woman can be as powerful as a man."<br/><br/>"You would know."<br/><br/>Carson turned his head as a familiar voice entered the tent. Max stepped wide around him to stand next to the Hunts... woman? His eyes were cold as he folded his arms, wearing his stolen Strider outfit once more. "Max? Did they...?"<br/><br/>"Capture him? No. No, we didn't have to. See, Max understands what we're trying to do. Or at least, he understands that your way of doing things is archaic, at best." The woman turned to brush her hand across Max's jaw, then kissed his cheek and brushed past him. "The last time we met I was surprised, Cars. I knew we'd have to clash eventually, it was just... just a matter of time, really. Ideologically opposed siblings always seem to butt heads at some point."<br/><br/>He scowled. "Siblings?" he echoed as she paced around behind him. "I don't have any siblings. And as far as I know I've never met a female Huntsman."<br/><br/>"We prefer Hunters, actually, nice and gender-neutral. It was Gregoir's stupid idea to have us go by Huntsmen." He heard something scrape as she lifted it. "As for when we met, well... I guess it's not shocking you didn't take me for a woman. It was dark, I was wearing extra padding, and my helmet covered most of my face." She stepped around in front of him, settling a wolfshead skull over her head. His eyes widened as she slipped into a ready pose, drawing the short sword at her hip. "Remember now, big brother?"<br/><br/>As if he could forget. His first failure for Malia had never faded. He had burnt the memory of the Huntsman--Hunter, now--into his head, the shape of the helmet and the design of the weapon that had taken Oliver's life. "You... killed Oliver?" he asked, hands clenched tight. "Why?"<br/><br/>"Again, you can thank the late great Greggy for that." She took the helmet off and set it on the table next to his things, then leaned back against it. "He told Oliver about us. About the Vanguard, about our philosophy, about what we wanted. And the kid said no! He was going to get the whole region mobilized against us, he had to go." She smirked. "Of course, I didn't really anticipate another Strider would come along so quickly. Really when you get down to it killing Oliver didn't matter at all, not when you went out of your way to find the Runner hideout and formed this precious little alliance of yours.<br/><br/>"Which, fuck, Cars. I'm impressed, I really am. After how hard we worked to put a wedge between the Runners and the Striders you went ahead and convinced them to work together anyway. Dad was right about you. You really are an overzealous kind of asshole." She grinned and glanced at Max. "You got him, right?"<br/><br/>"Yeah. He said he'd be here soon."<br/><br/>"Good boy." The Hunter kissed his cheek again, then his lips, grinning crookedly against his mouth. She broke after a moment to look over at Carson, Max's mouth shifting to her neck instead. "By the way, big brother, you can call me Sarah. Sarah Stark." With a laugh she took Max's hand and yanked him out of the tent, leaving Carson to sit seething and confused.