The Hunter From Latriva

[wachook]

Years after the monsters had abandoned the Midden, Oscar could still smell their stench emanating from the grounds. His teacher had long compared the creatures to wildcats pissing a fence around their territory and while they weren't as common anymore, they were just as ferocious. So why was it that the villagers were unmolested? He'd been summoned to the Midden on the tip of a trusted confidant and besides the smell, the beast was not here. It didn't help that he didn't know what kind of creature he was after; his connection had not mentioned any tooth, any tail, and any hair. His horse had suffered for it—the beast had been laden with numerous supplies, such that Oscar had been unable to ride it. As for himself, he carried an antiquated lance and various potions. The weapon had been confiscated by the mayor upon arrival.

"So you claim to have seen this thing, then?"

"If you don't believe me, you can ask any of them. They know I'm not lying." He gestured to the townspeople gathered behind him. Not all of them were frightened, which scared Oscar. The foolish were the worst sort of people to deal with—always interfering with his work. No doubt they'd ask to join in the hunt.

"I believe you. I just find it hard to believe you don't have any more information for me."

"I'm telling you, I found that thing near the well! She's poisoning the water supply—five of us been fallen sick ever since."

"Ah, so it is a 'she'. What gave it away?"

"Don't tell me you're to bed the thing." He laughed nervously, sending a titter round the crowd. Oscar scowled.

"Every detail helps, citizen. But if you think this a mockery, perhaps you ought to send your own guards after the beast. No? Then what gave it away?"

"The hair, I guess." He scratched his head. "Er, the voice. I heard it speaking to the water. It was dark; I didn't see much. Is it a witch?"

"Nay, I would have smelled it as soon as I entered this tavern. That is, if you did as I said. Mayor?"

A dangerously thin man coughed into this sleeve and nodded. Oscar believed him. Even the sick had been temporarily lodged in the guest rooms—not that the village would need them; the Midden wasn't exactly a popular travel destination.

"Alright. Mayor, if I could have my spear. You there," he pointed to the witness, "can take me to the well. Additionally, I would like to examine the barriers while I'm at it."

---

There had been a stronger scent at the well, verifying what the man had said. Of course, the villagers did not possess Oscar's nose and even with that, the trail ended in the reeds slightly off the road. This was a beast of sentience, that he knew what with her purportedly ability to speak, but to what end? The possibilities flicked through his mind like a book—a Leannanshee? Banshee? No, that couldn't be. The man hadn't mentioned any tears… only murmuring. The barriers that villagers had erected outside were far too primitive for an intelligent beast. Pits and stakes might work for animals but if the wolf had the mind of a human? Oscar would have to be the Midden's fence. And he was woefully aware of just how small a fence was with a single post. As he reentered the tavern, the chattering crowd looked upon him with expectant eyes—as if he'd be carrying the beast's head on his hip already. This time however, he did not relinquish his spear to the mayor.

"Your account rings true. I have tracked the beast just outside this town's walls. It appears her lair is beyond the river, or at least not here. You can rest assured—none of these citizens are the monster."

"... Well, where is she then?"

"Show us her head!"

Oscar raised his empty hands. It only incensed the crowd's demands. "Silence! Now, I can promise you that I will not have her head tonight. Beast she may be, this is an intelligent creature we are dealing with here. She may already be aware of my presence—scarpering off to another town, though I doubt it. But I've her scent now... there is no escape from my justice. There is no need for panic—none of you have died by her hands and none will. For tonight, board all the windows and stay in the inn. Do not answer the door no matter what you hear."

"You'll need a better weapon than that, my friend." The mayor shook his head. "Mayhew can accompany you through the night."

"I work better alone. For now, we have no idea of the powers she might possess. I do not wish for civilians to die on my stead."

In spite of his noble words, there was a familiar excitement coursing through his body. How long had it been since he'd last killed something so grand? Pixies in the forest? Even a babe could club an entire colony to death. But a talking, walking spirit who had the foresight for subterfuge? Even his teachers hadn't faced one of those since the war. For a feeling that had laid this dormant for so long, it could be almost be called new. He would wait in the dark for the spirit to return and if she didn't—well, with the villagers out of the way, he'd track her down. There were always signs that the beasts missed—a footprint here, a bloodmark there... yes, there was no way a spirit would run from the mark. Especially for one so far away from home.

 

[moffnat]

She felt the call of the bloodmark as much as she felt it. Pulsing, nagging, dragging her to a certain location, to a man. A hunter. One of them.

Yukiko should be furious that she allowed herself to fall so far as to be seen by the humans, to have them summon an exterminator like she was some sort of pest. She wanted to help them. Couldn't they understand? What was deemed immoral, unnatural — a spirit wanting to aid humanity — could not be appreciated, it seemed. But she could not stop. It was the nature of a spirit of compassion to be exactly that, no?

This hunter... she did not like him. Yukiko watched him peruse her forest in search of her. Perhaps he could sense she was nearby, peering from around a tree, her pale hand resting on the trunk. Would he know that her presence was not hostile? Indeed, she was capable of murder and fury, but not unless provoked. Hunters never cared, though. They would come to slay her anyway, regardless of her intent or unwillingness to fight back. Would this one be the same?

She waited until the dark of night. Yukiko watched the hunter where he sat at his camp, certain he would be urged by his promise of payment to approach her soon. Or she would approach him.

 

[wachook]

There was a presence near the woods. Oscar could feel the back of his neck stinging—her hidden gaze boring a hole through his tattered scarf. Although he was sat in front of a merry campfire, his bones were chilled through and through. He slowly rose to his feet and grasped his spear in both hands. There was no need to hurry. Both hunter and prey knew the circumstances here.

"I knew you would come. All spirits do. You can pretend you're not like the rest of them all you like. You and I both know that's a lie."

He took off his left glove, revealing an ugly-red marking. It did not bleed and yet Oscar could feel his grip on his spear becoming slick.

"You can smell this, can you? Good. I've always wondered why you creatures were so obsessed with this marking. Does it smell like pork, I wonder? Perhaps… freshly baked bread? Still, even if it did, you wouldn't catch me following the mark. That's the difference between you and I."

His eyes had grown rusty from hunting nothing but faeries and although she'd been lured this far from her den, she still had not revealed herself. Oscar brushed the foliage aside with his spear—something darted past him, causing him to stab at the air. No matter. He had his effects for times like these, did he not? A simple potion was all it took for him to notice her hair poking out from behind a tree. And just below that—her striking eyes. Was that a flash of fear he discerned from her gaze?

"Found you," he hissed. He'd need to end this quickly, or the side-effects of the potion would hinder him. He lunged forwards with his spear, aiming to pin her hand to the trunk.