Their Hunt - Prologue

Their Hunt

Prologue:

The pale moon shone high behind grey clouds, casting a foreboding glow across the land. The trees whispered of dark tales in hushed voices hidden by the rustling of the leaves as they followed the howling wind. Animals dug deeper into their burrows and clung to their dreams to escape reality’s harsh storm. A lone wolf prowls into the darkness.
Tonight, was a dangerous night to be out.
Eyes dug into his back wherever he went, as the stars counted down his seconds. The very forest itself seemed to hold its breath as he drew deeper into its bowels. Danger watched around every corner as he slunk from tree to tree. A beast lurked nearby, paying little attention to anything save his kill.
His eyes bored into the creature below.
Eight feet tall, three hundred pounds of hulking fury armed with a thick wooly hide and claws that would make daggers dull. Not to mention the four rows of serrated teeth capable of crushing steel. Capable or lunging to the treetops in a single bound and running down a deer before tiring in the slightest.
He moved.
Leaping from his perch atop a nearby cliff, he fell upon the demon, blade drawn, and drove it deep into its’ neck. Instantly the monster roared and lashed out about him, unable to reach the boy atop his back. Infuriated, he accepted the challenge and bounded into the air, thrashing and swirling its long body.
The boy gripped its’ blood soaked fur around the entry wound where his spear remained jutting from it at a crude angle.
The onslaught continued for several minutes in the prey’s blind fury. Though it was much faster, stronger, and an unparalleled hunter itself, it would fall to the boy as his catch, the Hunter becoming the hunted.
The struggling pair dove through the forest at an alarming rate, speeding past trees and hills in a dark, snow covered blur. The boy’s eyes burned from the chill air whipping across his face, and cracked his lips as he frowned in concentration. He squeezed his watering eyes tighter and laid his head as low as he dared to his unwilling mount’s back. The furious repetitions of thick rippling muscle beneath its hide jarred him with every step and reminded him of how dire his situation had become.
He had expected a fight, but never thought it would last a half hour. He couldn’t help but admire his fellow hunter’s endurance. He watched in suppressed awe at its’ perfectly suited body.
A flat angular head like that of a cougar, but with a large broad body of a bear cloaked in white fur to camouflage into the snow. Its’ snout was short and its mouth wide with powerful jaws and a short neck. Its arms reached its knees and its legs the same length as its torso. Thick fur protected its’ already armored hide and claws matched with superb strength and speed kept it a deadly opponent to even the most trained.
This is an adult Kera, he realized in dismay.
The boy had been tracking an adolescent recently and must have followed the wrong trail in the blizzard. His mistake would be costly if he fell or got hurt. The Elders would never allow him to trek alone again until he reached manhood in two years.
Or, he soon pictured, they might make me an advanced student and award me for my courage and skill.
In all his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the Kera was slowing down considerably, a crimson stain stretching from its neck to its flanks. It toppled suddenly, slinging the boy off his back, and both landing hard upon the ice.
The boy’s spear snapped with a loud crack, leaving only the top foot of the shaft protruding.
With a deafening echo, the ice shattered upstream and began pulling apart. The wounded Kera crawled off to land and collapsed, but the boy was left unconscious atop a small island of frost.
He awoke slowly and opened his eyes,
He saw great plains of white and a river flowing past him lazily. His kill lie peacefully in the snow and he found nothing broken miraculously. His spear shaft passed by in a gentle bob as he smiled and stood, bones aching from the cold with muscles sore and cramped from the ride. He steadied himself and grinned widely.
I’ve done it! I can’t believe it!
His high spirits quickly faded as he took in his surroundings.
Sitting alone on a chunk of ice as he floated downstream, slowly but surely approaching a waterfall, and too far from either shore to make it to land. The snow began falling in sheets, plastering to his clothes and weighing him down severely. He crouched low to his feet as the snow piled onto him.
He looked about for a way closer and found a small tree protruding from the water nearby. He readied himself carefully until he reached it and leaped for the branch. Underestimating the added weight from the snow and slipping, the branch cracked with a wet smack, and he plunged into the river.
An entourage of bubbles massed around him and squirmed as they floated to the surface. A deep darkness was about him yet the ceiling was a fluorescent golden white cast overhead.
It’s so beautiful, he thought as he floated into non-existence.
Instantly his muscles constricted and he sunk like a stone. Bright lights wavered above his head and shone like rays from the heavens. He struck out wildly for something to support him and found only the branch. His head swam and felt fuzzy. He tasted metal and his mouth felt like someone had shoved cotton down his throat. His arms and legs like lead and his eyes anchors. He could feel his lungs about to burst and wished he had taken a larger breath.
Just as he felt himself slipping away, his feet touched ground and cold air whipped across his drenched body. Vigorous shivers racked his body and his hands trembled terribly. His head ached and throbbed like a war drum. He rolled onto his side and vomited up water, shaking uncontrollably.
He hesitantly looked up expecting the stern gaze of his kin, but found no one.
He had been alone the entire time.

* * * * *

He began the long trek home slowly.
His catch was gone and his body frozen stiff. Only the remnants of his spear sat in the stained snow. He would camp soon and hope he was dry before he reached home tomorrow evening. His site was over twenty leagues from his home in the Outlands camp where his tribe remained.
The Outlands were an unforgiving place and it took four tribes of a clan to function properly. Each with its own set of skills and trades. He knew he would receive a lecture for returning empty handed and with several cuts and bruises apparent across his body.
He made a fire that night and sat nearly against the embers. His small shelter spared him the snow, but shared no sentiment against the merciless winter wind. The breeze sliced through his soaked fur clothing like a spear and kept him from all but hugging the fire.
He slept hard, wary of the cold, and woke later than he had hoped. His body protested as he stood and began to roll up his blankets and spearhead. The slightest movement sent a shock through his body, making his every movement wary and careful.
Beginning the walk home after packing, he carried the branch with the end smoldering, just in case, and cursed his stupidity in as many words he could think of; even those he didn’t understand.
The walk was a long and arduous journey as he traveled against the wind. He passed plain after plain of snow covered hills and forest. Tall, wide trees the size of mountains littered the majority of the land and life sprung from them.
Great clouds drifted by overhead foreshadowing rain and snow to come.
Almost storm season, the boy realized.
The sun was just beginning to set behind the Hinrur Mountains to the west when he spotted his home in the distance.
About ten leagues ahead, down into a valley surrounded by great woods on all sides, sat his home. The Outlands Camp it was called, though it was really a town. Different trades of all sort and merchants who dared traverse the Outland set up shop regularly and business thrived. It was just as large as a small peasant village and children roamed with parents busy working. Tents replaced houses however from whence the name Camp, derived.
He looked longingly as his home and wondered if he would be allowed back. His heart fluttered and his eyes sunk. He tried to mentally prepare himself for what was to come, but no protection did he find. His mistake was his and his only. It was only right for him to pay retribution.
He sat his pack down wearily and stared down at the bloodied blade of his ruined weapon.
Here goes nothing.