Borne of Soul’s Blood

The chime of the bakery door jingled softly as the Hunter stepped inside, cradling the unconscious girl in his arms. The warm aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries greeted him, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. Clara stood behind the counter, a mug of coffee in hand as she tallied the day's earnings. She glanced up, her brow furrowing at the sight before her.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, setting her mug down and crossing the room in a few brisk strides.

The Hunter shifted the girl's weight slightly, his expression as unreadable as ever. "I found her," he said simply.

Clara's gaze darted from the girl's bloodied, battered body to the Hunter's saw cleaver—peeking out from beneath his coat—and then back to the girl. "You found her?" she repeated, incredulous. "Like this? What happened?"

"She's injured," the Hunter replied, sidestepping the questions. "She needs rest."

Clara let out an exasperated sigh, gesturing toward the seating area near the display cases. "Fine. Lay her on the booth—carefully. I'll grab the first aid kit."

As the Hunter carried the girl to the booth, Clara disappeared into the back room, muttering to herself about reckless kids and mysterious, overworked employees. When she returned with the kit, she found him crouched by the girl's side, his gloved hand resting lightly on her forehead.

Clara set the kit down on the table and folded her arms. "You're going to have to give me more than this cryptic nonsense, Kid. Where did she come from? And why does she look like she's been mauled by wolves?"

The Hunter hesitated, his gaze fixed on the girl. "She was in the woods," he said finally. "Fighting. I intervened."

"Fighting?" Clara echoed, her voice rising. "In the woods? At night? Against what?"

The Hunter stood, his towering frame casting a shadow over the booth. "Five homeless crackheads," he lied, his tone calm and unyielding. "She was alone and outnumbered. I couldn't leave her."

Clara stared at him, searching his face for answers he wasn't willing to give. "You know, for someone who's been here a year, I feel like I know absolutely nothing about you," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "You show up one day looking as though you robbed Sauron of his eyes, no explanation of where you came from, and now you're bringing injured kids into my bakery in the middle of the night? What are you not telling me?"

The Hunter met her gaze, his eyes steady and unreadable. "She's safe now. That's what matters."

Clara sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine," she muttered. "But she can't stay here like this. We need to get her to a hospital."

"She'll recover faster here," the Hunter said, his tone firm but not unkind. "Trust me."

Clara opened her mouth to argue, but the sight of the girl's pale face and the faint rise and fall of her chest stopped her. She let out a slow breath, her shoulders slumping. "Okay. But you're explaining this to her when she wakes up. And you'd better have answers."

The Hunter nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Thank you, Clara."

"Don't thank me yet," she muttered, pulling up a chair and opening the first aid kit. "Let's just hope she doesn't wake up screaming about wolves or...whatever else is out there."

The Hunter didn't respond, his gaze drifting to the bakery window. The moonlight cast a silvery glow over the girl's face, one reminiscent of a distant memory.

The Hunter went into the kitchen, grabbing a Gatorade and water to help with the obvious signs of dehydration. As they walked, Miquella appeared, wanting to talk.

"She is not a Mortal," Miquella chimed, staring back at the room Clarisse laid in.

The Hunter nodded, "She mentioned Demigods, could some of your siblings be like me? Having been born here and came to the Lands between?"

Miquella shrugged, "It is possible. We could try to ask. The only problem is none of them currently have the strength to take form... minus Godrick."

The Hunter shivered, not wanting to summon the Lord of all that is Golden. The Hunter isn't afraid of him, they've already killed him and grafted his soul to their body like they did with Maliketh.

What they are worried about, is what he'll do. Godrick is unlike the other demigods, he can graft onto other people when summoned by the Hunter. Meaning if the Hunter summoned him, he could lose Godrick.

"I am/you are not doing that." Both The Hunter and Miquella said matter-of-factly.

"Doing what?" Asked a voice drenched in exhaustion.

The Hunter turned around to see Clarisse, still clad in her armor with a suspicious look on her face and her bronze spear in hand, sparking with electricity.

The Hunter paused, Gatorade and water in hand as their mind blanked on what to say.

"...joining the Hunters ..." He finally said, closing the door with his butt.

Clarisse stared at him in confusion, "what?"

The Hunter sat the Gatorade and water down on the counter and cleared his voice.

"Earlier you asked me what I was, one of the things you suggested was me being a male hunter of Artemis. I didn't know what those were so I looked them up, I don't think I can or want to join them."

The Hunter smiled, hoping their blatant lie was convincing enough for Clarisse to believe them. Well, it was semi-blatant, the Hunter didn't understand the details about the "Hunters of Artemis" beyond what Gabriella hastily skimmed through in her mythology book. However, they could tell that Clarisse wasn't in the mood to dissect their words just yet.

Clarisse gave them a skeptical look, her grip on her spear relaxing but not dropping. "You're weird, you know that?" she muttered, glancing around the bakery. Her eyes lingered on the cozy interior, the baked goods neatly displayed in the glass cases, and the faint warmth that seemed to permeate the room. "This... isn't what I expected after getting jumped by wolves."

The Hunter shrugged, taking a step closer and nudging the water bottle toward her. "Drink. You need it."

Clarisse hesitated, then snatched the bottle, uncapping it and taking a few long gulps. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and eyed the Hunter again. "Alright, so you're some kind of monster slayer. Or at least that's the vibe I'm getting. What's the deal with you?"

The Hunter sighed, his gloved fingers tapping absently on the counter. "I'm not from around here," he said, which was technically true. "I hunt things that don't belong. Wolves like the ones you faced."

Clarisse tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her dark eyes. "So, what, you're like... a supernatural exterminator?"

"Something like that."

She smirked faintly, though her exhaustion was still evident. "Guess that makes me a natural then. Those mutts would've been toast if you hadn't shown up."

The Hunter didn't bother correcting her. "You're not ordinary," he said instead, his tone neutral. "Your strength, your spear, the way you fought... you're not human, are you?"

Clarisse stiffened slightly, her smirk fading. "I'm a demigod," she said after a pause as if daring him to challenge her. "Daughter of Ares."

The Hunter looked at her in confusion, same with Miquella but he was invisible. "Ares? Demigod?" He thought.

The Hunter wanted to ask but too many questions may overwhelm the girl.

Clarisse narrowed her eyes. "What about you? You're not normal either. No normal mortal fights like you do, not even some "supernatural exterminator.""

The Hunter considered her for a moment before answering. "I was human once. Not anymore."

Her expression shifted, suspicion replaced with something closer to understanding. "So you're like... cursed? Or chosen? Or whatever?"

"Something like that," he replied.

Clarisse studied him for a long moment, then leaned back against the counter with a grunt. "Well, whatever you are, you saved my life. So... thanks. I guess."

The Hunter nodded, turning his attention to the Doll's faint form hovering in the background. She regarded them both with a serene smile, her presence unnoticed by Clarisse.

"Good Hunter," the Doll said softly, her voice like a lullaby. "It seems you have found a kindred spirit, in more ways than one."

The Hunter didn't reply, his gaze shifting back to Clarisse. The girl was tough, that much was clear, but she was also in over her head. Whatever had brought her to this town, it wasn't something she could handle alone.

The Hunter watched her in silence as she drank, his gaze calm and observant. The small room was quiet except for the gentle hum of the bakery's oven and the distant clink of cutlery from the kitchen. Clarisse, her guard still up but gradually lowering, leaned back slightly and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

"You know," she started, setting the bottle down with a soft thud, "you've got a knack for showing up at the right moments."

The Hunter smiled faintly, though his expression remained neutral. "Luck has little to do with it. You were in danger. I took care of it."

Clarisse frowned slightly, her dark eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Yeah, well... you didn't have to get involved. I've handled worse."

The Hunter didn't argue, simply letting the silence stretch between them. His mind, however, was spinning through memories—of battles long past, of wolves far deadlier than these. There was something about Clarisse, something familiar yet different, that tugged at his thoughts.

"Why were you in the woods alone?" he asked finally, his voice measured and calm. "Most don't go there unless they have a death wish or something to fight."

Clarisse met his gaze, her brow furrowing as she considered her answer. "Sometimes," she said slowly, "you don't get to choose when a fight finds you."

The Hunter inclined his head slightly, understanding the sentiment all too well. "Fair enough," he murmured.

For a moment, the only sound was the soft ticking of a clock on the bakery wall. Clarisse studied them once more as if trying to figure out if he was more than what he seemed. After a pause, she spoke again, her tone softer now.

"Why do you do this?" she asked. "Risk your life, play the hero? It's not exactly a smart way to live, and that's coming from me."

The Hunter crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the counter. "Sometimes, there's no choice," he replied simply. "You protect those who can't protect themselves. That's enough reason."

Clarisse stared at him for a while, her expression unreadable. Then she let out a soft sigh, shaking her head slightly. "You're weird," she muttered again. "But... I guess that's not necessarily a bad thing."

The Hunter gave a quiet nod in response, though his focus flickered briefly to the doorway where Miquella's subtle presence lingered. The demigod's translucent form leaned against the doorframe, watching the exchange with a curious air.

Clarisse noticed the flicker and followed his gaze, frowning slightly. "Is someone else there?"

The Hunter straightened, glancing toward Miquella without speaking. Miquella gave a small smile, an almost amused expression on his ethereal face, before fading from sight again.

"Just an old... acquaintance," the Hunter said softly. "He hopefully won't bother us."

Clarisse shifted uncomfortably at the mention of a mysterious presence, but she nodded slowly. "Right... friends with ghosts, too. Great." She shifted her weight, gripping her spear tightly once again, though her grip wasn't as tense as before.

The Hunter observed her, letting the quiet settle again. He could sense the tension still lingering, but there was also something deeper beneath it—a warrior's resilience, perhaps even a need for belonging, even if only for a moment.

"You should get some rest," he finally said, his voice gentle but firm. "The fight is over for now."

Clarisse hesitated, her eyes fixed on the Hunter. Then, with a deep breath, she slung her spear over her shoulder again, nodding. "Fine. Just—don't expect me to get all buddy-buddy with you."

The Hunter offered a faint smile, the barest hint of understanding in their gaze. "I don't expect anything."

With that, Clarisse made her way toward the small couch near the bakery window, the comfortable silence settling over the room again. The Hunter remained where he stood, watching her cautiously, his mind turning over what came next.

The night outside had turned quieter, the occasional sound of the city settling into a peaceful slumber.

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DGW: Thank you all for reading. If you have any suggestions about this story feel free to share them with me. Doesn't matter what it is I will think it over. Also if there are some mistakes please let me know.

Tools used: Grammarly Spell Check, the FANDOM app.

Love Interests that have been suggested: Thalia, Clarisse, Nico and Reyna

Love Interests I won't do: Artemis (reasons that will be known in time), Hestia (reasons that will be known in time), Zeus(reasons that will be known in time), Annabeth Chase

DGW: Thank you Lunar_Lunatics for inspiring me to write this story. They are a great writer and very cool person.

Word Count: 2205