A drastically contrasting figure casually leaned above the slumbering behemoth, his slender frame barely casting a shadow over Manuel’s eyes. Devin was by far the most experienced trapper of the group, ingenious with his snares which could always be relied upon to turn in a considerable portion of a day’s haul. Thin long hair draped sharp features and sharper eyes with the glint of eagerness behind them. Whilst it was normally the larger kills that made any feast, Devin’s never-ending haul was largely responsible each year for allowing the village to survive another winter.
Then there was the man’s brother, not by blood but in all other senses of the word, Randall was his family. Inseparable from the man’s side since he had aided him in a particularly scrappy fight at a young age, the pair complemented each other well, Randall’s temperament and troublesome nature countered by the cool logic of the man, yet there was no denying who the better fighter was. The best way the man could describe his brother’s nature was that he was a tavern brawl waiting to happen. On far too many occasions, before Randall had established his reputation as a fighter, the pair of them would be relaxing with a drink before some offensive nonchalant comment would roll off his tongue, antagonising the largest guy within earshot.
Whilst the village normally got by fine with all residents reasonably well fed, there was no denying that Avlym’s structures were falling into a state of disrepair. Their urgent cry for replacement and refurbishment along with the ever-present shadow of the annual quota for the colony meant that this promised to be a busy year. Therefore, the duty of at least part of the supplies had fallen to the motley crew in front of him.
Kicking Manuel roughly in the side to reintroduce his comrade to the living world, knowing full well that anything less would hardly bother him, weapons were gathered and the crew set off into the dark undergrowth.
First, they went through the usual routine of checking the catch from Devin’s creations, resulting in a fair yield of a basket of small fish and several snared rabbits. Momentary excitement led to brutal disappointment as a trail of hog tracks were lost in the grassland. The sun was high above them before the hunters had proper reason for pause, deer prints they had been tracking for the last few hours had finally yielded a result.
She was magnificent, head bent low with bright speckles around her eyes and trailing down her smooth lean hide. The men’s muscles were tense whilst perfectly still, breathing controlled and shallow, and yet still she perked up, wide eyes roaming until they locked onto the group.
A standoff. Neither party made a move, she would surely comprise the main feast of the evening, a potentially glorious catch. The man’s fingers itched, wrapping around the smooth neck of the spear, ready, his entire body poised in an all too familiar position. The whole group tense with anticipation, waiting for Randall to make his first move.
And then she bolted.
Lightning quick, she disappeared into the shrubbery, the team gave chase, hoping to get a clear shot in before their prey was gone for good. The man leapt nimbly over fallen branches and rocks, ducking under low hanging branches and barrelling through anything else standing between himself and the evening meal.
Deeper into the depths of the forest they ran, the rest of the team, notably slower than the man, were far behind with no hope of aiding him in the chase. If he could just hold on for a little longer, he knew they would emerge into a clearing eventually where he might be able to get a shot in.
Unable to keep up, the deer had long since disappeared from sight and the forest thickened as the man’s pursuit continued now relying on tracks, broken twigs, and finely tuned predatory instincts. Experience and the senses can only get a hunter so far though. Resigned, the man slowed and prepared to acknowledge his defeat. As he halted, the cacophony of the forest invaded his senses. It would be impossible to distinguish the sounds of his fleeing victim and besides, he was sure they had strayed from the clearing he knew of so it would likely just be further lost in the trees.
Then a puncture in the rhythm, a foreign cry, wild and animalistic.
And the man flew.
As he forced heavy eyelids open, colour seemed to slowly fade back into the world. His back lay crumpled against rough bark, some way back from where he had stood moments earlier. His shoulder ached dully and he had landed on his leg poorly, his ankle twisted abnormally. He glanced down to assess the damage, and then mercifully passed back into oblivion.
They found the man sometime later, bloodstained and slumped up against a tree, impaled by a spearhead with the shaft protruding out from below his collarbone. As he was carefully draped over a broad-shouldered giant, Randall and Devin scanned the area for his attacker. Later the men would swear that the shadowy depths of the forest had warped and twisted before their very eyes.
Living almost.
CHAPTER ONE
“Dale!”
I grunt.
“DALE!”
Sighing I swing my legs of the bed and head into the main room towards mother’s exasperated pleas. The sight that greets me is by no means an unfamiliar one. My sister
