A Not So Chaste Group of Hunters

Moira Brighton sat calmly in the back seat of an SUV, watching the vivid green trees pass by as the vehicle jostled and jolted along the dirt road. A week ago she would never have imagined herself in this position, apologising to people she very much disliked. ‘But it has to be done,’ Moira told herself firmly. ‘I have to do this for John’s sake.’

For the first time in what had been an agonisingly long time, she felt renewed and full of purpose. The Lady was as silent as usual, but that was fine; Moira was certain that this was the right thing to do.

She felt the SUV begin to slow moments before her driver, Reginald, cleared his throat. “We have arrived, Lady Brighton,” he informed her formally but unnecessarily.

Moira thanked him before briskly stepping out of the vehicle. There was no need to wait for him to open the door for her; time was of the essence, and besides, it was a frankly embarrassing procedure. She wasn’t a delicate little girl that needed to be coddled, she was the Warden of the Shield. “Please wait for me here, I wish to do this alone,” she told the butler.

Reginald looked ready to object before she silenced him with a stern glare. “Please,” she repeated more gently.

“As you wish,” the butler replied, betraying no sign of further argument.

Moira nodded once before turning towards the cliff face they had parked under and boldly stepping through it. Her vision blurred before revealing a moderately large field, filled with a sea of tents (and occasional log or brick building) that was the Hunters of Artemis’ encampment. A strange array of smells hung in the air, from the stench of tanning leather to the salivating aroma of a hot pot cooked over an open fire. The camp was as chaotic and unclean as Moira remembered it being, though it admittedly had a homely warmth to it that wasn’t unpleasant. However, she did not think she could ever trade the silken sheets of her soft bed for the fur covers and hard ground to be found at the camp.

Moira set her sights on the temple that could be seen over the peaks of tents, knowing it served as a meeting place for the occupants of the encampment as well the centre of worship for their patron goddess, a good place for Moira to attract as much attention as possible. Hunters and huntresses (though, mostly the latter), roamed through the sea of tents, filling their time with idle gossip or tending to their weapons. Many stopped to stare at Moira as she passed, and some even muttered profanities once they believed her to be out of earshot, or perhaps they didn’t. Many more, however, simply chose to ignore her. It was slightly discouraging, but the Warden didn’t let it deter her from the task at hand.

As she passed by one tent, she heard a girl, or several, moaning in a disjointed chorus of ecstasy along with a male partner. Their inconsiderately loud and very lewd play had attracted the attention of several neighbours, including two young girls, who, much to Moira’s shock, rushed towards the tent, giggling and stripping along the way.

‘This group once stood for chastity,’ Moira recalled, blushing like the virgin she was and quickening her pace away from the scene.

At long last she arrived at the temple. It was by far the largest building in the camp, stylised with white marble columns neatly circling the exterior and etchings of past hunts chiselled into the walls by a deft hand. Moira was about to enter when a large bird suddenly swooped past her, causing her to reflexively pull back and almost fall backwards. She cursed as she regained her footing and glowered at the bird, which paused on the front steps of the temple and looked back at her with one beady eye. It cawed once before vanishing into the open doors of the temple, leaving Moira standing alone and under the weight of some amused glances from nearby witnesses.

‘Calm down,’ she chanted to herself, taking a deep breath and then several more. ‘Now is not the time to get angry.’

“Well, well, well,” a slender figure called as she stepped out of the temple. “To what do we owe the pleasure of a visit from her holiness, Moira Brighton?”

The girl sauntered towards Moira, auburn hair swaying casually in a single tail, and while an amused smile played on her lips, reproach clearly beamed from her moss green eyes. The feeling was mutual. Moira looked over the girl’s slutty attire with distaste. She wore a chest hugging tank-top that stopped before her belly button and torn jeans that showed off curves in her thighs and ass that honestly made Moira more than a little jealous.

“Hello, Cynthia,” Moira replied, resisting the urge to grind her teeth as she suddenly remembered why she very much disliked these people.

Following her out were her parents, Miranda and Arnold, along with that blasted bird which now perched smugly on the latter’s arm. The mother was even more shapely than her daughter, and Moira could only pray she looked as good in her forties.

“What have I told you about manners!” Miranda bemoaned, lightly swatting the back of her daughter’s head before turning to Moira. “Greetings, Warden. I take it this isn’t a social call?”

“Greetings, Miranda, and you too, Arnold,” Moira said politely to the two senior hunters. “But no, this is not a social visit. The Order — I, need your help.”

“Oh really?” Cynthia snorted; the smirk that played on her lips betrayed just how much contempt she held for the idea. “And what makes you think we want to help?”

“A sense of honour and a desire to protect the innocent, I hope,” Moira replied, holding her tongue back from several scathing comments.

“Come now, Cyn,” Arnold sigh and placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s hear her out, we are allies, after all.”

“No, it’s alright,” Moira sighed. “I understand relations between our two factions have been… strained for quite some time, which is why I would like to apologise on behalf of the Order. It is my desire to make amends in the near future.”

“Uhm, what?” Cynthia laughed in bemusement. “Let’s not paint over things, here. Your guy was an idiot for charging ahead, it’s his fault he got hurt, and you lot were a bunch of whiny pricks afterwards. And I believe I called you a sanctimonious bitch the last time we met.”

“And I believe I slapped you,” Moira recalled the memory with a guilty fondness.

“And you really want to apologise? You are Moira Brighton, right?” Cynthia asked, making a show of rubbing her ears to check their were in working order.

“Yes,” Moira said simply.

“Wow,” Cynthia laughed again, pure disbelief and shock written on her face. “Who managed to dick the ‘Great Moira Brighton’ into humbleness?”

Moira felt the heat rise to her face. “N-nobody!” she stuttered back. “I shall remain chaste until the time comes to pass on the Lady’s Blessing.”

“By Artemis, there actually IS someone willing to put up with you?!”

‘Endure it, Moira,’ she chanted to herself; her face flushed completely crimson as she fought to suppress the concoction of embarrassment and anger that was bubbling away inside her. “That is of no concern of yours,” she replied in the calmest voice she could muster. “What should concern you is that an innocent woman has been **** and I need your help to find her.”

Cynthia glanced towards her parents briefly and shrugged. “Sure, I’ll help,” she said casually.

It was Moira’s turn to be surprised. “Just like that?” she asked, surprised at how quickly a girl, who she was sure hated her, had come to accept her plea for help. She had expected it would be much more difficult.

“By the sound of things, the situation is serious,” Miranda chimed in. “We will assist you as needed.”

“Yeah,” Cynthia said with a slight chuckle. “Whatever’s going on is serious enough that Miss Princess Warden has humbled herself to asking us for help. I’d wager that means there’s worthy prey to hunt.”

Moira couldn’t stop the genuine smile that grew on her face as she bowed deeply towards the family of three. “Thank you,” she said with all her heart. She was now one step closer to seeing John’s smile again. She just prayed he’d have success on his end.

“Besides,” Cynthia continued with a sly grin, “I wanna meet this guy you’re hiding. You can tell me all about him, and leave in the juicy details.”

“Ahem,” her mother coughed. “You can gossip after we’ve been brought up to speed.”