Brother and Sister
Natasha was only sixteen when she wrapped her warm but tattered cloak up around herself and began her escape from the witch’s hidden cabin in the early predawn light. Her left hand secured her few possessions: a knife, a parcel of food provisions and a few of the witches supplies she felt comfortable enough handling to steal. Her right was latched around Clint’s scrawny wrist as she pulled the scrappy fourteen year old boy from the doorway where he was still securing his bow and quiver over his own pilfered possessions: scraps of leather, flint, buckles, a lucky coin and his own worn, woolen blanket.
“Let's go. She’s going to wake up any time now and we need the head start.” Natasha had bound the witch to the bed as best she could without rousing her but that along with the remains of the drug would only give them barely a day's light advantage. The boy glared at the cabin a moment longer and spit towards the place that had been his home for far longer than it had been hers before he calmly looked up to meet Natasha’s eyes in a sure nod.
“Let’s go.”
And they did.
In fact they ran through the thick woods as fast and far as they could without food, drink, or rest until nightfall. They snuggled hidden together far up the y of a large leafy tree's branches for shelter. Clint shared his blanket while Natasha shared her bread and water. After the day's run they finished it all off but neither worried. They knew of several springs and lakes ahead in their travels east that would provide for them and once they were far enough away Clint could shoot them any game they might wish. Perhaps that was why the witch never ate the boy under her nose, Natasha had often wondered.
“Damn it! Why didn’t she die? She was supposed to die.” Clint finally grumbled through Natasha’s red hair.
Obviously it had been eating at him for a while. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment to cherish the risk he had taken for her now that he confirmed that his actions had indeed been intentional. She waited for a nearby owl to finish hooting and the night sounds to still and settle before she whispered back her reply.
“Witches bespell and charm themselves, their bed and their home that they will not come to mortal harm while sleeping. Even a lethal dose of the most
potent sleeping powders would not kill a witch for this reason.” When the witch woke up she would kill Clint for trying went unsaid.
“Sorry Tasha...I screwed it all up." He cursed.
“No. You might not have killed her but you gave us a chance at freedom.” She took a deep breath and looked into his clear blue eyes to make sure he knew she was serious. “Clint, freedom is something the girls trained by Baba Yaga to be Black Widows aren’t allowed to ever dream about knowing and you just gave it to me. Clint nodded at her words but then looked away for a moment at the sound of a tree frog croak echoing both too close and too far.
“If you're thankful, don’t leave.” His eyes were on hers again, pleading and accusing both in equal seriousness at the sudden order he just delivered.
“What?” Natasha remained calm, ignoring her fingers desire to fidget in Clint's short sandy spikes. "You think I'm going to slip away tonight?" The fact she had briefly considered it at one point made no appearance in her voice or features. She could go faster and harder than Clint and disappear into these woods darkest recessed briars without notice, a shadow, but not knowing if Clint had survived after granting this freedom would burn.
“Don’t lie, you plan to leave me somewhere you think is safe and continue running alone.” He clarified with more confidence in her perceived betrayal, eyes narrowing.
Natasha nodded in muted surprise. That was exactly what she had decided. He was so young still and looked even younger. It wouldn't be too hard to convince a family to take him in or even find another traveling group of entertainers. A bowman of unsurpassed skill and a hunter like him had nothing but possibilities ahead.
“It’s not safe. If she catches up she can trigger my training and order me to kill you.” She explained plainly. Her being around would simply hinder him having a normal, untarnished life. "You could have a fresh start."
“If she catches up it’ll be easier to fight her together. If she triggers you, I'll stop it like I did before and we can fight her or run again. Leaving me would do us no favors.” His reached out, warm calloused fingers tightened around her hand and she had no doubt that he was less scared of the witch or her turning on him than being left alone. Stupid but she can't fault him. 'I can’t be abandoned again.' He doesn't say but she could hear it so clearly he didn't have too.
“Please. I can help. I know I can be useful.” He tried again with more confidence, the desperation much better hidden, though not from her. Natasha knew Clint could be useful, she did. She didn’t want anyone to use him. Clint was remarkable, he deserved better, and that was the whole point.
Despite living with the witch for so long Clint had been relatively innocent until she had arrived as a gift from the witch's sister. The boy had been beaten and mistreated as her servant but Clint hadn’t known the evils of witches in particular until his master witch had gotten her very own Black Widow. Clint hadn't known the new girl in the house had been used to bring back children to kill and roast or ordered to warm the witches bed however her mistress pleased with skills she didn’t remember ever learning. If she was lucky the witch would tell her to forget what she had done under her command however she was not nearly lucky enough to have sleep ever come easy or be pleasant.
Clint learned soon enough though and his eyes sharpened even as they hardened, most likely wishing he had seen and understood sooner. This boy she only exchanged a few words and glances of understanding with silently became her champion, sometimes getting the witch too drunk or angry at him to make use of her toy or following a dangerously triggered Black Widow, fighting, and holding her down until she passed out and woke up herself. He had almost died several times and risked his life many times more for the sake of adding choice in her life. He was willing to try and kill the witch for her. And all he wanted for this was company. Not even pleasant company or company that might not accidentally kill him one day.
She wanted to be the kind of woman that paid back her debts in her new life. She could grant him better than just an unfeeling companion.
Natasha slipped the knife from her leather belt and pressed the sharp blade's tip to her thumb and then Clint’s. He watched with silent curiosity. The blood pooled up into a single drop on each others thumbs and she swirled them together with her sticky thumb pressing her thumbprint into his.
“We’re family now Clint. I won’t leave you.”
Clint looked at the red thumb absently, an obviously pleased smile twitching on his lips.
“My only family before was my older brother. He traded me to the witch to do with what she wished five years ago for a potion and safe passage. It's lucky I'm so skinny and handy with a bow or she’d have eaten me before I’d even met you.”
Natasha hugged the brat into her side a little tighter and kissed his forehead. She didn't like showing her emotions, too easy to use and hurt that way, but that didn't mean she didn't have any.
“I’m your big sister now. That is very different.”
“I suppose it is, sister Natasha. Good night.” He said with a smirk, trying the title out himself.
“Good night, brother Clint.” She sighed back with exasperated fondness. She waited for Clint to fall asleep, glaring out into the darkness for signs of danger. The witch would be after them now, she would need her wits about her tomorrow but she would not sleep till she felt more at ease. They had been lucky that the weather had been good, and the night warm enough.
"Tasha?" Came a sleepy whisper at her ear.
"Yes?"
"I won't leave you either. We'll get that fresh start together."
She couldn't help a small grin and wasn't all that surprised that when she heard the soft snore on her shoulder she fell asleep herself quickly after.
The following day found Clint up one of the highest trees in the forest near the tippy top where the sun had left several branches bare. He took a deep, invigorating breath. Clint loved heights and hadn't climbed a tree in so long he had to hold in a whoop of joy to be so high looking out over the woods and beyond as a cool, fresh wind blew through his hair. He hadn't felt so free in a long time.
"Well?!"
Clint looked down at his new sister (and wasn't that something) with a grin. She sounded almost nervous for him. He scanned the sky once more with his original purpose.
"White smoke from where the cabin should be. She's not on our trail Tasha! She's probably having left overs from yesterday. How hilarious would it be if she finished off the batch and the rest of the sleeping potion that was in it as well. Haha. She could never cook anything decent without me."
Natasha didn't look any more pleased.
"This is a good sign but she wouldn't give us up so easily Clint. She's probably casting. We need to only flee past her reach and we are truly free."
Clint couldn't understand why she seemed so tense for such good news. He started to stand from his crouch and noticed a flicker of a twitch from Natasha's eye. Grinning, he planted his hands and rolled up into a handstand. Sure enough the twitch got more pronounced. Clint laughed to himself, she did give a shit about him already it seemed. He wasn't even insulted by her lack of faith, not like she ever saw what he could do when violence wasn't involved.
"Good thing I see her boundary marker then..." He did a push up, keeping perfect balance in the handstand. Then another, grinning as Natasha glared up at him. "The lake is within a three hour's walk, if we're quick. Thank god, I know I'm parched." He suddenly flipped down five branches below him in a quick somersault, giving Natasha no warning, and her little slip of a gasp was as satisfying as any amount of applause he'd gotten in the circus. He leaned back against the trunk with a cocky grin. "Beyond that a mere hour more to the river, a few hours more and there lies the burnt willow she uses as a marker. From there on is wood I don't know but I think we might be near the border of the next king..OW!" Clint rubbed his forehead as another large pinecone raced for the same spot. He quickly dodged and started to climb down in earnest. "Alright, alright! I'm coming. You're no fun."
"You can have all the fun you want once we are safer Clint. And try not to break anything until then, my knowledge of healing is not nearly as expanded on as my knowledge of killing." Natasha huffed in near exasperation.
The archer grinned as he quickly fell in step behind her up the path. He rubbed his thumb, still stained red from Nat's blood. He was now fairly certain if he did become injured she wouldn't leave him for the wolves, and besides as the brother it was his job to look after his sister not the other way around. He'd be a better brother than his had been, that's for sure.
The lake was large, clean and gorgeous. Clint rushed to the edge dumping his bag and gear along the way. The surface sparkled with promised refreshment. He wondered as he bent down to drink if Natasha would mind too much if he suggested they take a quick swim. She probably would but then again she had to be as thirsty and as hot as he was.
They had been keeping a brisk pace and the sun had found them through the tree canopy, making them sweat under their leather and become easily parched.
He felt the attack coming the moment his lips connected to the lake surface a second away from quenching his thirst but knowing it was coming was not the same as putting up any kind defense. He was pleasantly surprised when he ended up flat on his back, wind knocked out of him, staring up at a furious Natasha with an arm across his throat but decidedly not dead.
"What the hell Natasha?!" Overlapped with her hissed, "What are you doing, idiot?" She released him from the pin and helped him back up to his feet even as she smacked his arm hard enough to make him wince.
"Ouch! Getting a damn drink of water isn't that why we stopped here?"
Natasha stood frozen and stared at him.
"You're serious. You didn't hear it?"
"Hear what?"
Her face crumpled and she leaned against him needing to steady herself. Clint felt confusion laced with fear bubble up inside him. He’d seen Natasha wake up with blood and entrails in her hands and swallow any feelings reaction down deep, somewhere dark. She was always steady except now she was shaking and muttering a language he didn’t know.
“Natasha!? Talk to me! What’s happening?” He wrapped an arm around her uncertainly and tucked a loose strand of her red hair back behind her ear.
“The lake is cursed. Anyone who drinks from it will turn into a ferocious tiger. Clint, if you had a drink just now I’d have been torn to pieces.”
Clint wanted to argue that Natasha probably could take a tiger down but her serious expression had him swallowing the lump in his throat and moving to the next point.
“How do you know?” He didn't ask why she thought that it was cursed. He trusted her in general to know the random shit when it might come in handy. A bonus from her training they preferred not to mention.
"I can hear the spell. I thought at first the spirit of the lake was warning us but..." She trailed off and gripped her fists.
"But I didn't hear it." He finished and rubbed her back in understanding. "You're not a witch Natasha." he whispered.
"It was something Babba Yaga said sometimes- black widows who excel sometimes wake up when their witches are done with them, so soiled, witches themselves, and worse than any they served. Former black widows were what kept her in business wanting black widows of their own." The thought of becoming something that perpetuated her hell on to others made Natasha too sick to her stomach to control her normally blank face.
“No! Natasha, I promise if you’re a witch you're a good one.” Clint frowned as she sighed out in a huff at him.
“There is no such thing, Clint.”
“Then why am I not a tiger right now?" He asked, watching as she tried to reconcile why she'd saved him if she'd become evil. Even selfishness because she cared for him would be at odds at what she’d known a witch to be.
"I must be turning into a witch slowly. I don't feel different yet." She decided, at last.
"Doesn’t that mean if you don't do any more witches bidding you won't change?" He watched as hope came back into her eyes and felt himself relax slightly, pushing forward. “Maybe if you do good things you can even reverse it.”
“That makes some sense. If I could wipe out the red in my ledger..." She murmured before shaking her head to herself. "No. Impossible, but I can at least not add more blood to it. That might be enough." It would have to be, her body seemed to say as she pulled away from the comfort her brother was giving her.
"Let's go. If I can't drink this we should try to get to the river before nightfall."
“Yes, plus the sooner we get out of this forest, the sooner you can take a bath.” She nodded back at him playfully sniffing in his direction to ease the mounting tension. “You really need one.”
“Even more now.” He complained with a grin as he tried to smack the fresh dirt off his pants.
“Whine, whine, whine. The tiger wouldn’t have been this obnoxious.”
“You love it.“ He snarked, catching his pack she tossed at him with a small grunt.
“Shut up.” Natasha replied without a hint of denial.
Several hours later, after a tiring battle with a large poisonous snake (mostly taken out by Natasha while Clint being unwilling bait distracted it) and crossing a mostly decayed bridge (that decided to finish disintegrating while they were on it causing a stressful scramble to the other side) the two siblings nearly collapsed by the river. It wasn’t moving too fast and looked cool and refreshing.
Clint again started to excitedly walk to the edge before remembering to cast a glance back at Natasha. He sighed in disappointment as she didn’t follow, shaking her head at him.
“What is it?” His voice was getting rough with thirst and he coughed with a hard swallow before his throat felt right.
“Wolves. Drink from this river and become a wolf.” She said.
“Oh.” He was almost too exhausted to complain as worry wormed it's way into it's place.
Natasha slid her hands into the water and carefully rinsed her face. Clint quickly copied her and sighed that he felt a little better at least. They rested together, shoulder to shoulder against an outcropping of rocks.
It was getting darker as the sun fell further in the sky. They would need to move or hide for the night soon.
“Think we will make it?” He tried not to sound too disheartened. He could feel her shrug which might as well be optimistic for her considering.
“It's not too far to the witches marker now. We need water soon but we will make it and be free, depending the answer to the unasked question.” She paused. “Save your voice, Clint.”
“What question?” He asked anyway.
“What happens to all the birds and mice and other animals that drink from the lake or the river?” She turned and raised her eyebrow at him as the possibility she referred to sunk in.
Shit! Poisonous snakes were going to be the least of their problems if there was about to be an explosion in the tiger and wolf population. He wanted to climb another tree and try to spot tigers or wolves likely closing in on them, but ultimately he was too exhausted. A dizzying headache threatened to loom right behind his eyes until he got some water, his throat was starting to hurt too.
When Natasha gestured for him to get up and start back toward their goal, he only nodded and didn’t bother saying anything as he followed.
Clint thought he was going to pass out at one point and Natasha started talking again to try and keep him focused on the path, one foot after the other following after her voice.
“If I become one of the bad ones, you know I want you to kill me, right?” She said at one point, looking him right in the eye. He nodded back, with equal seriousness knowing it would never get to that point but Natasha would appreciate his reassurance anyway.
When they reached the burnt out willow tree the purple-blue light of dusk was fading into dark navy blackness, a low rolling fog was starting to cover the ground ominously. Clint glared at the tree and debated doing something to it but his thoughts were sluggishly slow. His headache throbbed too. Damn he was thirsty.
Natasha urged them both past the witches territory line and sighed a breath of relief. Clint was about to do the same when he spotted the small spring up only a few yards ahead and to the left. He dashed for it and slid on his knees to the muddy bank, quickly bringing his cupped hands to the water and then his mouth.
“CLINT! NO!”
It was delicious, so cool and refreshing. His headache seemed to lesson almost immediately and he ignored Natasha’s yells as he brought his face to the surface and drank his fill. Wetness brought moisture to his chapped lips and parched throat. He was lifting his hand to cup more water into his mouth when he spotted the feathers. FEATHERS!
He looked to Natasha, who looked like she was about to cry.
“A hawk. Drinking from this spring will turn you into a hawk.”
“But we’re past her influence!” He gasped in near panic, his hands running over his feathered arms even as they began to tighten and curl into talons. Oh god, he was never going to hold a bow again, was he? He held back a sob.
“Yes, we are.” Natasha waved her arm and he watched as the fog swirled and moved, revealing large twisted roots of willow, most assuredly burrowing deep into the earth. “The source of the spring must be before the border or else tainted by the roots. It must be why it is an animal that is not made to kill and the voice of the spell was a whisper I only noticed as it was too late to stop you.”
“Fuck.” Clint moaned as he he heard his bones begin to twist and change. "Natasha. I'm sorry." She suddenly had her graceful arms wrapped around him desperately.
"Clint, you promised you wouldn't leave. Clint...I..." She sobbed and held him tighter. The pressure felt good. Gave him comfort, an illusion of security as his body shrunk and changed.
"You're my sister, Natasha...I love you." Were the last words he could form before his face changed to beak, feathers, and his memory of how to speak was replaced with knowledge of flight.
"Clint. No..." Natasha wept. She was shocked she even still knew how to cry but for Clint there were tears. She held the large bird to her before making a noise close to muted wail. The bird in her arms flapped it's wings and let out a caw, wriggling to be free of her grip. "At least you are free." She murmured as she tried to pull herself together.
She released her arms and refused to look away as Clint took to the skies as a large beautiful hawk. The bird looped in the sky above her and quickly flew out of sight. Natasha looked down at her hands as she allowed herself a moment. It was her only brother, after all.
Clint heard the voice. The familiar voice. He had been enjoying the currents beneath his wings, through his feathers, when was the last time he flew? Wait...he had been human once, hadn't he? Then he heard the voice.
"Come home boy- this is my command."
A hawk with a home? How odd. But it was a command he could not ignore. He had a home once when he was human. Remember? His eyes narrowed and he did.
He flapped his wings with all his strength and purpose of will.
Natasha looked up as the large majestic hawk landed right in front of her.
"Clint? Are you, still in there?" She rubbed her eyes with her sleeve and the hawk tilted it's head before letting out a loud shriek.
Home is here with her. The voice was telling Clint it wasn't but he knew better. He was human once and he just needed to be reminded. This woman was his partner, his home to protect and she knew his name. A name he kept forgetting in favor of a stray thought of catching a nice meal his next flight.
Her gentle fingers rubbed his feathers and he cooed slightly despite himself. Although why would he hold himself back? He cooed louder and nuzzled back into her hand.
"You still like attention, huh?" She mumbled with a hint of smile. "Figures."
As Natasha gathered up their gear and Clint's discarded clothing She quickly realised just how fast they could move now.
"Clint. Follow me." She watched as her brother seemed to nod and took flight before she disappeared into the shadows as she had been taught, confident he would be able to follow. He had been the Amazing Hawkeye before he had been turned into a hawk after all.