Stars at Our Backs

“Shh… stay low. Take advantage of the weeds.”

The ground beneath the pair’s feet soon gave way to mud, which soon gave way to water. Malon crouched close to the bog’s bottom, the would-be knee-high water reaching her sides as she sloshed, sloshed her way deeper. The second presence behind her made its way closer to her, following carefully, before being brought to an abrupt halt.

The ground rumbled.

Bryn and Malon stayed frozen in the swamp’s waters, barely hidden beneath the reeds. Their matching, silver hair stood out immensely unless one could trick their eyes into seeing them as reflections against the sunlit shallows. Malon, slowly, tilted her head to look at her sibling, who gave her a confident nod. She smiled, albeit with pride.

The two of them drew their weapons in unison; Malon’s being a long, deadly glaive and Bryn’s being a lean, sharp katana. As they stood put, crouched stomach-deep in bog water, they watched a shape emerge from the canyon northeast of them. It was dark and dull like the terrain; an inexperienced hunter could assume it to be a moving boulder. As it drew closer and its footsteps trembled the ground, Malon pinpointed its identity immediately. She lightly elbowed her sibling with her free arm and mouthed it:

Barroth.

The monster wasn’t as big as its footsteps made it seem, but for what it lacked in size it made up for in sheer weight and power. Atop its head was a massive crown that gave the look of a chopped tree, though holes accompanied the five tips at its end. Malon knew they were nostrils; when this thing got pissed, she could see the steam from its breath as it huffed and puffed while getting ready to charge. Where the crown met its face, two beady red eyes stood out beautifully against the browns and greys of its form. The two hunters observed as the Barroth paused merely feet away from them and knelt forward to take a drink. As it moved, the massive plated scales shifted with its joints, its bottom layer reflecting a burnt orange against the sun’s rays. Malon watched as water drooled from between the monster’s lower half of teeth, plastered externally against its jaw. She noticed when its mouth was clamped shut, the Barroth’s teeth fit perfectly between each other, like a lock and key or a completed puzzle.

The huntress turned back to her sibling - again, slowly - and gave them a small nod. Bryn, in return, raised their free arm for the purpose of using their built-in slinger. Earlier on their expedition, the pair had grabbed some stones so that they wouldn’t be without ammo for the specialized tool. Malon heard the thwick! of Bryn’s slinger, and she immediately turned to the Barroth. It heard the nearby slash of wherever the stone had landed; it perked its massive, bulbous head up, water still dripping from its rocky maw, and made its way towards the sound to investigate. She gave Bryn a thumbs-up before making a move of her own.

On her dominant arm - her right - rested a massive insect. It resembled a natural moth with a pale, fuzzy exterior and wing markings, but with every glaive-wielder came a kinsect to accompany it. Malon released a subtle whistle, and her kinsect sprung to life. It fluttered off of her arm and hovered alongside her as she approached the Barroth from behind. With a small signal, the bug flew towards the monster’s tail quicker than anyone would suspect, and attacked. The Barroth winced, and looked over its shoulder, its devilish eyes boring into the huntress as soon as it noticed her. Before it could act, Malon dug the blade of her glaive into the shallow waters, into the mud, and used all of her core strength to vault herself into the air. She felt the vibrations of the Barroth’s grumbling as it prepared for a territorial roar, but had cut it off - literally - as she slashed her weapon against her target’s face in an attempt to stagger it. Her efforts, unfortunately, were unsuccessful; the mere thickness of the Barroth’s natural armour was enough to deflect her attack and send her back into the bog. Malon landed in a deeper end with a large splash, though her glaive was still in hand. She rose to the surface, coughing up the stinging sensation in her throat, her vision blurred. Through the dizzy shapes, she made out Bryn’s figure rushing forward, katana wielded in both hands. She felt herself smile. Kick its ass, Brynstone.

The huntress found this as a good opportunity to step aside for a moment to gather herself. She withdrew her glaive and reached into a pocket rested on her coil and pulled out a small jar of glowing green liquid - a health potion - and wolfed it down. It tasted like vitality; she felt the breath return to her lungs, her vision clearing, and her muscle aches diminish. She returned the jar to her coil, but was immediately sprung back into action when she heard a familiar yelp of panic.

“Bryn?!”

Malon’s eyes widened and her chest tightened as she watched her sibling be thwacked! by the Barroth’s armoured tail. It discarded them as if they were an irritating gnat, weightless as they were socked through the air. The huntress’ whole body flinched as they heard Bryn’s body slam against that of a wildspire, causing bits and pieces of it to crumble. She watched their longsword slip from their grasp, landing merely a foot or two away from them. For a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to move; between the Barroth and her sibling, she wasn’t sure which one to prioritize. On one hand, she could lead the monster away and yank Bryn aside, but on the other, she could beat the Barroth into submission and cause it to flee, giving them both time to gather their senses.

Something continued to stall her, however.

The image of her sibling’s katana lying absently on the bog’s muddy ground brought her back to when her and Bryn first arrived in the New World. She remembered the two of them practically dangling off of the side of the boat to watch the churning waves of the dark ocean, to watch the small wingdrakes follow them above their heads.

“I wish Dad were here,” Malon had chirped. “He would have loved this view.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Malon saw Bryn nod their head in agreement, constantly having to move their longer, silver locks from their face. The pair’s father, Duncan Ornelas, passed away shortly before Malon and Bryn departed for the massive island. “It was his dream to become a monster hunter, after all,” the then to-be huntress added to her previous statement. Unfortunately, after the pair’s mother had passed during childbirth, he gave up that dream in order to father his two twins.

“He really wanted us to live his dream for him,” Bryn replied, a soft smile glued to their lips. “I can’t imagine he wouldn’t be watching us right now.”

Malon glanced up, her lips pursed. Though Bryn wasn’t taller than her, she was leaning forward against the railing of the ship, which warranted the act. Her sibling’s face was broad, but soft, their nose the littlest bit bulbous and a small soul patch of white hair accompanied their chin. Her eyes met theirs, and she took note of their abnormal heterochromia; one eye was lavender - the same shade as both of Malon’s - but their left eye was a vibrant red. How unnatural, she remembered in her father’s voice. Unnatural as it may be, it was just one of the many traits that made Bryn incredibly unique. Upon their response, Malon’s lips matched those of Bryn’s smile and she gave a subtle nod. They were about to live their father’s dream; to make their father happy.

Malon had broken away when the Barroth roared.

Quickly, a sudden fire burning in her chest, the huntress wielded her glaive once more, and charged at the rocky beast. The Barroth huffed, steam rising from its abnormal nostrils, and readied itself to charge back; and charge, it did. Though, Malon was too quick. Just as before, she dug her glaive into the mud and launched herself into the air. She could feel the wind cutting through the Barroth’s rugged armour as she barely missed its attack, and soon enough, she felt solid ground sooner than she had thought.

“I have you now, Barroth!”

The huntress had mounted the monster and withdrew her hunting knife. Like her life depended on it, she stabbed the sharp blade through the Barroth’s makeshift armour with one hand, and held her composure with the other. Just as she had wanted, it had bounded away from Bryn in an effort to find something it could use to knock off its sudden attacker. She couldn’t afford to look behind her; only forward. Malon inched her way to the head of her new mount, the massive crown on its head almost making for an appropriate throne. She readied her glaive for her climax attack, but felt a shift in the monster’s body weight.

SLAM!

She was knocked off yet again, thankfully not landing in the filthy water this time around. Through the other sounds that busied her ears, Malon heard an abnormal crunching noise coming from the Barroth. It was followed by a roar, and then things seemed still. When she gained her bearings, Malon realized that the Barroth had fled. Her head spun from her impact, but upon remembering her sibling was still down, she rushed to their aid as if nothing had previously happened.

“Bryn!” she called, sliding across the ground and kneeling next to them. "Are you alright?!"

Bryn’s eyes opened upon hearing their sister’s voice, and they slowly sat up. They raised a hand to their head upon a massive, fresh bruise. “Yeah, I’m… I’m alright. I-I didn’t want to get up fearing that the Barroth would’ve taken me out.”

Malon was quiet. She helped Bryn to their feet, one of their muscular arms draped across her shoulders. Why were you scared? she thought, rhetorically. You’re not supposed to be scared.

“Let’s just call it quits,” the huntress mumbled, half to herself and half to Bryn. “We’ll train some other time.”

----------

The low lighting of their living quarters was almost overwhelmingly welcoming. Malon watched as Bryn was the first to collapse on their bed, armour and all, with their Palico. Part of her wanted to smile as her sibling and their hunting partner cuddled a tad in bed, but her chest felt heavy as she started removing her mail.

“Bryn…” she piped up, sitting on the edge of her bed. She bent forward to start with her greaves, the metal clinking ever so gently as she fondled with it. “What happened today?”

Her heavyset sibling sat up, their Palico sitting criss-cross beside them. They lifted their hand to the bruise above their right eye as before, rubbing it gently. “What… do you mean?”

Malon hesitated. “It looked as if you had just forgotten everything you’ve learned so far.” One of her greaves slipped off with a clunk and was settled neatly off to the side. “You allowed yourself be attacked.”

The huntress removed her opposite greave as she waited for Bryn’s response. Followed by her waist coil, arm braces, torso, and helm, Malon sat on her bed in her undergarments - a crop top and a pair of briefs that matched. Bryn still didn’t reply. She was about to speak up when they broke the silence.

“I just… saw something in its eyes.”

Malon cocked an eyebrow. “You sure it wasn’t a fly? Barroths are disgusting mud-rollers, y’know.”

She was taken aback at how her sibling’s tone suddenly changed. “No. It was… pain.”

“...”

“...confusion.”

The pair sat in a deafening silence for what seemed like decades to Malon. What is Bryn saying? They aren’t drunk off of their ass, were they? Her head spun as much as it had when that Barroth flung her off of its head, which she realized must have broken in the process; that had to have been what the crunching sound was.

“It was as if it was begging for us to stop,” Bryn continued, breaking the silence like a shattered window. “Mal, it… it was scared.”

She didn’t reply.

“I… I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Malon’s eyes widened, her mouth agape. She watched as Bryn started to take off their armour, starting with their helm and working their way down. Their Palico was mindful to not get in their way.

She stood up abruptly, balling her hands into fists. “What are you saying, Bryn?!” she demanded, practically shouting. Her voice trembled and the threat of tears stung the back of her throat. “We promised Dad that we would do this! We promised to do this together, and now you suddenly change your mind?!”

“It wasn’t sudden!” Bryn retorted, not bothering to shoo their bangs from their face this time. “I’ve thought about this ever since we started! I can’t keep hunting! I can’t keep killing!”

Malon’s face burned and her vision blurred. “And you don’t say shit until now?! What are you gonna be if not a hunter?! What would Dad say?!”

“Shut up!”

The huntress gasped as she watched Bryn stand up, their mail completely discarded, their face tilted to the ground. She heard the faint drip of something hit the floor, followed by a second and a third. She saw Bryn’s fists clenched harder than hers were. Her chest ached.

“Bryn, I… I’m sorry-”

Her words were cut off as Bryn dropped their longsword at her feet; the katana she watched them use during training; the one they picked out when she picked her glaive. The echo of its blade hitting the wooden floor was more than enough to break the dam behind her eyes, causing the water to leak down her reddened cheeks.

Dad, please look away…

“I’m going back,” her sibling huffed, bringing their arm up to wipe their face. “and I’m going to be a rider, not a hunter.”

“Rider…?” Malon whispered, knowing that Bryn wasn’t going to be able to hear her. She looked at their Palico - Knockout was his name, a ginger Scottish fold - who had hidden himself behind one of the pillows on Bryn’s bed, but his ears stuck out. Her own Palico - Knockout’s brother, named Stunner - stood behind her, one of his hand-paws pressed around her leg for support. Again, a deafening silence, that Bryn broke once more.

“I tried being a hunter because I didn’t want to disappoint you, or Dad, or… Mom.” Their head tilted up just enough for Malon to see their eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “But being a hunter is your thing. Being a rider is mine.”

Malon didn’t have a chance to reply before Bryn was already walking out, Knockout hot on their tail. She was left in their quarters, the tears burning her skin as they trailed down to her jaw and down her neck.

“Mew were too harsh,” Stunner said, hopping up onto Malon’s bed to be as eye-to-eye with her as he could. “Becoming a meownster hunter is no easy feat. Some may not realize it’s purr them until they try.”

“But…”

“No butts.” Malon’s Palico stood tall, his big eyes looking into Malon’s sincerely. “Bryn discovered something mew about them; this isn’t their destiny.” A small smile tugged at his furry muzzle. “But, purr-haps, it’s more of your destiny instead, Meowster.”

The huntress stood there, cleaning her face with the innards of her elbow as she thought. Despite part of her being in denial, deep down, Malon knew that Stunner was right.

“Do mew remember the Tale of the Five?”

Malon glanced to her hunting partner. She nodded.

Stunner purred with confidence. “Humans asked the five dragons why their world was empty, and they gave way to life. The fifth dragon flew so high in the sky, it became the Sapphire Star.”

“And the Sapphire Star guides us,” Malon finished.

“Purr-cisely! Bryn’s Sapphire Star may be different from yours, Meowster.”

“Different from mine…”

----------

The entire left half of her face had stung with the warmth of fresh blood, but she pushed through. Malon heard the bird wyvern in pursuit behind her, squawking and flailing its vibrant feathers in anger. As her vision steadied, she saw the red liquid on one of its feet, but part of her understood a little more clearly. Monsters get scared and confused when we hunt them, Bryn’s words echoed in her head. Throughout her private expedition, the huntress kept her weapon sheathed, solely relying on her grappling hook built into her slinger, potential ammo for said slinger, Stunner, and her sheer will to survive. A few scratches never stopped me, she reassured herself as she tucked and rolled out of the Pukei-Pukei’s charge. She sprinted up the minor cliff face up to its nest, whistling to her Palico. She listened to Stunner taunt the bird wyvern with a, “Come and get me, meownster!” that being her signal to snatch one of the seafoam green eggs safely held in the dip of the nest. It was speckled with lavender splotches, as if someone splashed a bucket of paint at a fair enough distance away.

Malon whistled again, seemingly not noticing the amount of blood dripping off of the newfound wounds on her face. Stunner released an acknowledging meow and sprinted up the cliff face to catch up to his master. Malon, flash pods at the ready in her slinger, set one off in front of the Pukei-Pukei’s face just underneath its nose. It released a confused squawk and flailed around, wings flapping excessively. Her grappling hook wrapped itself around a thick branch, and with Stunner clinging to her leg, Malon made her hasty escape with the wyvern’s egg.

----------

The Argosy was in port later that week. Usually, the Argosy was meant to transport goods from the Old World to that of the New, which included trade-in items that weren’t available in the New World. That morning, though, the Argosy was to have Bryn on board.

Malon made sure to be present at their farewell to the Commander. She watched them shake hands and exchange a few words. Next was the Commander’s grandson, the Field Team Leader, who ended up giving Bryn a hefty hug. The Field Team Leader trained them both and taught them the ways of the New World, so she understood as to why he made it a tad more personal.

“How’s your cheek?”

The huntress was freed from her trance by the sound of Bryn’s own voice. She didn’t expect their goodbyes to go by as quickly as they apparently did, but she digressed. She looked at her sibling and reached up to her wounded cheek, currently bandaged up with a few thick layers. The faintest bit of blood could be seen seeping through if one looked hard enough, but she grinned faintly.

“It’s alright,” Malon replied, giving the bandage a bit of a rub with her fingertips. “Kinda sucks that I can only use one eye right now, but I’ll get used to it.”

“Maybe you could take up the bow-and-arrow now that you don’t have to wink to use it.”

The pair shared a good chuckle before Malon hesitantly reached out to her sibling’s hand. “Bryn, I…” She took both of their hands in her own, their size difference almost exaggerated. “Please know that I’m… I’m so sorry… for the other night…” She gave Bryn’s hands a gentle squeeze. “I was so selfish, thinking that… we would share the same passion just because our father wanted us to. I’m sorry.”

Her hefty sibling smiled, their eyes matching in softness. “Hey, Mal, I know you didn’t mean it. You had all the right to react that way.” She felt their larger hands squeeze her own in turn. “We’re okay, I promise.”

Malon smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Bryn…” She released her grip, as did Bryn, but gave them a light and playful punch on their bicep. “I have something before you go.”

Before Bryn could reply, Malon rushed into their living quarters for a moment. She rummaged underneath her bed blankets and pulled out the egg, hugging it to her chest as she stepped back outside. The look on Bryn’s face - mouth open, eyes wide - made her snicker with amusement.

“You can’t be a monster rider without a monster, now, can you?” she teased, holding out the bi-coloured egg. “Take it with you.”

Bryn was silent, hesitant to take the egg. After a bit of encouragement from Malon, they finally did, seemingly carrying it without any struggle.

“Please show the Old World how special the New is, Brynstone.”

----------

The winds were strong at the top of Astera, appropriately so. Malon leaned against the railing of the viewing canopy, one leg crossed behind the other comfortably. Her newfound armour defined her admirable status as a monster hunter; high-ranked and legendary. “Just like you wanted, Dad,” she whispered. The wind whispered back to her, twirling her silver locks into pleasant curls and brushing them against the aggressive scars that masked her left cheek in a gentle kiss. Her eye pleasantly shut as she inhaled the comforting air of the ocean hundreds of feet below. In the distance, she watched the Argosy depart towards the horizon, and she was brought back to the day of Bryn’s departure two years ago. The breeze seemed to whisper to her once again, brushing around her neck and face in a spiral. The huntress followed the direction of where her hair was blowing, and it was up at the night sky. The moon was full, the endless sky coated in a blanket of stars.

“Dad, Bryn… and Mom…”

Malon smiled, her lips pursed just enough to reveal her teeth that glowed under the moonlight.

“My Sapphire Stars… the stars at my back…

...thank you.”