Chapter 1

Reman crouched to examine the trail before him, running his fingers through the ashy tangles of his graying brown hair. The path before him bore no trace of boots, and what hoof prints he could see were far too small to belong to a Minotaur; it was nothing more than a game trail, unused by both of the races he was avoiding.

On the left of his belt hung the sheath to his long sword, a strong, simple blade light enough for a single hand but with enough grip on the hilt for two. His right bore a medium steel dagger, short of blade but with a thick, hooked cross-guard and a serrated back edge. Behind the weapon, the hardened leather of his water skin hung. It rang hollowly as he stood, rising to pull the shoulder straps of the shield at his back into place once more. The shield was a simple, round design painted in blue with profile of a great bear's head. A well-worn leather tunic and a pair of leather leggings completed the attire, over which was thrown a simple chain-mail shirt.

Reman surveyed his options. He had not yet traveled far enough to the south to be certain he wouldn't be recognized in civilization. A game trail could lead to any combination of food, shelter, or water, all of which he needed, but this particular trail ran east to west. In the back of his mind he was aware that he was running out of time; he had eaten little in the past few days. The trail would not take him closer to friendly territory, however.

In the end his instincts drew him to his most immediate concerns. South would have to wait; he was hungry now, no matter how slim his chances of finding something down the trail. It would, at the very least, be easier to walk on. He turned, and began traveling towards the setting sun.

Over time the trail opened into a short clearing bordered by a flowing stream. Rem paused outside its borders, still concealed by the foliage, and slowed his steps into silence as old habits prompted him to check the safety of his surroundings before leaving cover.

A young buck was cautiously lapping at the cool waters, raising its head from time to time to listen to the rustlings of the forest with flickering ears, marking the only visible motion in the clearing. The rumbling of his stomach reminded Reman once more of how long it had been since his last meal, but regrettably he admitted to himself that he had no means of hunting the animal. Instead he took a deep breath, careful to stay the exhale short of an audible sigh. He reminded himself to find some way of bartering for a bow, as soon as he was certain it was safe to show his face again.

From the other edge of the clearing, across the stream, a pair of arrows whistled from the bushes in rapid succession, interrupting his thoughts. The first caught the deer in the throat, the second burying into its right shoulder. Stunned for an instant, the buck tripped under the effects of the second arrow as it tried to run, choking on the first and collapsing to the ground where it lay, panting for breath.

Reman froze in surprise for a moment, his hand instinctively half-drawing his sword. The source of his surprise was not at the sudden loss of his prey, but at the hunter who was just emerging from the leaves on the other side of the stream. It was a Minotaur; at least that much was certain. He had met Minotaur in combat; they were fierce warriors, bloodthirsty monsters with the strength of several men, frightening and deadly when enraged. But this one was different. It was slighter. Calmer. More gentle. It was female. As far as he knew no soldier had ever seen a female Minotaur, or at least lived to tell about it. Most assumed they remained deep within the enemy territory.

With the sword still frozen in place at his side, two opposing instincts fought for control of Reman. The Minotaur was the enemy. Any son she produced could eventually cause the deaths of several human men and women. Reman's features tensed in anger out of sheer force of habit, but the recent discoveries he had made regarding the war between the humans and Minotaur rose to the surface of his mind once more, and so he did his best to fight habit in favor of reality.

She was covered from horns to hooves in a light brown fur akin to horsehair, fading to almost white around her face, the front of her neck, and the fronts of her arms and legs, the latter of which bore the backward, animal hock joint high above her hooves. She was tall, taller than Reman even, though not as massive as the male counterparts of her race. The Minotaur was dressed in what was not so much clothing as it was a series of leather belts and pads, woven at various joints with steel studs and the occasional thin iron plate, both of which had been allowed to rust a metallic red. At her left side hung an unsheathed hunting knife, hooked to her belt by a rawhide loop that was strung through the hilt. Her back bore a quiver with a bow slung over it, the hilt of a sword rose over her shoulder on a sheath woven with her quiver.

The Minotaur made her way across the stream to the buck, and Reman watched as she whispered gently to the panting beast, before deftly piercing between its shoulders to the heart, ending its life. Silently Reman watched, curiosity beginning to creep into his mind to replace the fading hatred. The reality of the war against the Minotaur and his part in it brought his guilt to the surface once more as he considered the careful actions of the gentle creature. Curiosity and guilt brought with them the odd desire to test the supposedly warlike nature of the Minotaur; if it was indeed nothing more than years of propaganda, she should be passive if approached in a careful manner, and if not... guilt was willing to accept the consequences.

Against his better judgment, he slid his sword back into its sheath and rustled his way out of the brush. The Minotaur was alerted by the sounds immediately, and rose to a crouch. Before Rem could react, the bow was un-slung and an arrow was drawn, notched, and pointed at his chest. Reman stopped immediately and stood in his place, wondering what to do next. The silence was awkward; he felt like he should say something. "Don't be afraid," he managed, and immediately realized it was a stupid comment to make. After all, she wasn't the one staring at the point of an arrow. Still, his experience confirmed that the statement was true; he had seen her race under the stresses of battle before, and had learned to survive by reading their fears and angers. She was afraid, and obviously didn't want to hurt him; otherwise, she would have already attacked. Curiosity ruling over common sense once again, Rem held his hands open in front of him, palms up to show he meant no harm, and took a step forward.

Reman stopped a mere five paces from the Minotaur. The bowstring shook with her hand, and he was certain that any move from that point would be fatal. If he took a step forward, she might become scared enough to attack. If he took a step back, she might sense the fear in him and muster enough courage to end his life. Instead he did the only thing he could, and waited, trying to look as unthreatening as possible.

Slowly she lowered her bow then, still shaking, returned it and the arrow to the quiver at her back. She remained in a crouch, facing him. By no means did she trust the human, but despite the fear curiosity had begun to become mutual.

"Communicate," Rem thought, "There must be some way to communicate." There had to be a way to show that he meant no harm. Carefully he kneeled before her, and then reached across to his left for his sword. The Minotaur reacted immediately, taking half a step back. Her right hand went to the hilt of sword at her back, and her left arm crossed in front of her as if she intended to ward off blows with it.

Ever so slowly he drew the sword, before holding it in both palms before him. He gently placed the weapon on the ground in front of her, carefully watching from the tops of his eyes in case a sudden escape was needed. She remained frozen as he then drew his dagger and did the same, laying it flat on the ground so that the blades pointed away from them both, and as a final gesture he laid his shield overtop the weapons.

Reman bowed from this position, then stood and took two careful paces back.

After a few moments the Minotaur drew her sword from her back. Unlike the bow and dagger, this weapon was made not for hunting, but for war. Though its long hilt was a clear indication that it was meant to be held with both hands, she easily unsheathed it with only her right. Her left she then placed under the other, and for that moment her stance told Rem she knew how to use this sword. It was a moment where he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake, as she stepped forward with the sword in her hands.

The moment passed as the Minotaur carefully set the sword on the ground atop the growing pile, and then quickly removed her dagger and bow as well before stepping back a few paces.

Reman let out a breath of air he hadn't realized he was holding, as the rush of released fear began to set in. "This," he said breathlessly as he began pacing in a circle, "is incredible. No one has ever seen a… I mean you're… I don't know where to begin." He stopped pacing then, as he realized his counterpart was still motionless, regarding him warily. "Do you even speak?" he asked.

The Minotaur stared back blankly, her eyes narrow. Rem paused for a moment considering, before carefully circling the weapons to her side, and walked to the edge of the stream, motioning for her to follow. She acknowledged only by turning towards him, but he continued, kneeling before the soft earth by the waters' edge, where he began to sketch two figures. This gathered her attention enough that she followed, leaning over his shoulder as she watched him work.

"Human," he said forcefully, pointing a muddy gloved finger at the first figure. Then to the second, which he had drawn much taller and broader of the shoulder, and said, "Minotaur."

Then, carefully, he pointed at himself. "Human." He pointed at her. "Minotaur."

The Minotaur pondered, all the while Rem began to wonder if she was even capable of understanding. Most Minotaur, as far as he knew, didn't show much intelligence while breaking a soldier's shield with their bare hands. But if they could understand his simple gestures of peace, then maybe they were capable of more.

"Hruman," flowed the voice over his shoulder. It was low and mellow, and so soft that it surprised him. It was by no means quiet, but the voice had in it a softness that went beyond volume, as if she somehow took hard edges off words as she spoke them so that her voice almost blended in with the forest. He turned to see her pointing her own leather-bound finger at him, before holding her palm to her own chest and repeating, "Minotaur"

She extended her arm to him and hesitated, before laying her hand on his shoulder. "Worvar," she said. Human. Then to herself she indicated, saying "Morhe." Minotaur.

Then, while he was still trying to comprehend what was happening, she leaned over his drawing in the mud and etched a slight curve that ran through the end of the first figure's arm. "Hruman," she said, drawing a line from the tip of the curve to the second figure, before etching a deep gash that cut his doodle of the Minotaur in half. "Minotaur," she repeated sadly.

Rem winced. This was not the gesture he had expected; she knew far more than he had assumed. "The war," he said, sadness entering his own voice.

"War," she agreed softly.

He looked up from the pictures then to face her. She had separated the words, and chosen the right one from the statement. Did the Minotaur understand more than they let on? Or maybe, War in their language was simply the same word as it was in his. War was universal.

Rem went for his pack then as an idea began forming in his head. The Minotaur stepped back a pace and eyed him suspiciously as he rifled through its contents, finally producing a roll of parchment, followed by a quill and ink well, which he began writing on:

Worvar means Human.

Morhe means Minotaur.

War means War.

Unknowingly, he lost much of the Minotaur's trust by that action, because it told her something he was trying to hide; no ordinary soldier carried pen and paper with them, because an ordinary soldier could not read or write. Rem didn't expect a Minotaur to know this.

Reman looked up then at the light fading from the sky, accelerated by the thick trees of the forest. "I need to find shelter," he told the Minotaur. She simply stared at him. "Shelter?" he said, trying to pantomime a roof over his head and then a place to sleep.

For a moment he could have sworn she was rolling her eyes at him, or at least thinking about his statement. Then she went to where their weapons were laid and began to reassemble her gear. She motioned for him to follow.

He waited for her to finish before coming close enough to collect his own equipment, while the Minotaur went to the fallen deer and hefted it over her shoulders before starting up the stream, turning back to see if he was following.