The Hunt

Joachim wove his way through the tangled forest brambles like a jungle cat, following the narrow game trail cut through the undergrowth. Overhead the Green Moon hung full, and lit his path with its lambent glow, casting dull shadows that made it difficult to tell real from illusion in the thick midnight, and reached out in an attempt to snare his hide-wrapped limbs.

He had spent his entire life in this forest, and ones like it, learning how to track, to hunt, to walk silently in the fallen leaves. This was his domain, and he moved through it like a fish through water, effortlessly vaulting fallen logs and maneuvering his spear and bow through twisted branches without a thought, astute gaze scanning the trail ahead for even the slightest signs of life. The forest was oddly still tonight, as if it were holding its breath in anticipation of something, and apart from the occasional hoot of a bird or flutter of wings, there was silence.

Cresting a small knoll, Joachim hopped atop a thick, flat stone and fell to one knee to rest. He pulled his waterskin out from beneath his stag-skin jacket, carefully popping the cork so as to not make any sound before bringing it to his lips to drink. The placid night air still held the crisp bite of a late winter, but it was now well above freezing, and new growth was exploding everywhere. The warmth should have stirred the beasts from their winter abeyance; he would wait here for a time, motionless, and see where the Moons might lead him.

Joachim had been bristling with confidence and nervous energy when he first set out alone into the vast, dark forest, replete with the blessings of the Shamans and the encouragement of the Clan, ready to prove his worth in his First Hunt. But now that he had stopped moving, his mind began to wander, his unease bringing with it some self-doubts. This marked the first time in his young life that he was truly alone in the forest, and if something were to happen, if a beast were to get the better of him, there would be no one to help or to save him. They would merely find his corpse at daybreak, if at all.

Shaking his head, he dispelled such dismal thoughts. He was no coward, and there was no reason in spoiling his own mood mid-way through a Hunt. Besides, tonight’s Green Moon was a good Omen for his Trial, as it shone from Unorra, the First of the Three Omens, the Moons that wove Fate. She represented beginnings and all things new, and was a fitting backdrop for he and his peers’ rite of passage, which would mark them as fully-fledged Hunters within the Clan…should they succeed. 

Once more he pushed such doubts to the back of his mind and decided that, perhaps, sitting still and waiting was not working for him. His face itched like fire, and he resisted the urge to scratch at it; the acrid stench of whatever strange pastes those Blue-born Shamans had smeared upon his cheeks before he set out had initially made his eyes well up and his breath catch, but it had gotten increasingly unbearable in the time since. That sensation was also beginning to spread out into his whole body, bringing along a feeling of restlessness that spurred him into motion.

As he rose and continued on down the far side of the hillock, Joachim felt a renewed sense of vigor despite his irritation. His unsettled mind cleared and left behind a focus that drove him forward, his eyes catching more of the dim light than they had before, his body light and filled with a seemingly boundless energy. Running with abandon, the agitation slowly changed into a sort of pressure that flooded throughout his entire being, his blood pumping and heart pounding in his ears like a war drum as he became entirely engrossed in the Hunt. 

Time passed quickly, and soon the Second Moon, Dossen, ambled over the eastern horizon. Smallest of the three, whatever radiance it might have had was mostly drowned out by the green haze that lit the night sky. The symbol of the status quo, the unchanging eternity, Dossen was said to be the eldest of the Three Omens, whereas Unorra was the youngest and brightest, making its presence overtly clear. Meanwhile, the Third Moon, Trest, was the shy one of the bunch, and rarely showed itself except for when the other two made themselves sparse. Trest represented endings, finality, and occasionally mortality, an ill-omen which had unfittingly shone Green upon the eve of his birth, fifteen cycles hence, leading the Purple-born Divineers to declare that, as with all born beneath the Green Moon, his Birthfate was to dedicate his life to the Great Hunt.

A stray gust of wind carried an unusual noise with it, and Joachim paused mid-stride, straining his ears to catch it again. Moments later, it came, a far-off scream and a crash as something large gave chase. After a few moments of hesitation, he redoubled his pace and struck off towards the disturbance, his mind buzzing with confused, and curious, musings. No one from the Clan was allowed in the forest this night save he and his peers, and everyone knew that it was a grievous crime to interfere in a First Hunt. Could it be one of the others? They had been sent all in different directions so as to not interfere with one another’s Hunt, but perhaps one had gotten lost? Perhaps Anadera, as her lack of directional awareness had been the brunt of many jokes between them over the years. It was entirely possible that she had, indeed, found herself lost…but then, what had found her? 

Less than a full minute later, Joachim got his answer, as he came upon a track of trampled undergrowth that intersected his path and joined it, continuing on ahead and out of sight. He also noted a nearby tree, about as thick as both his wrists together, which lay splintered across the path. Moving forward with a touch more caution, he plucked a tuft of coarse fur from a nearby bramble and gave it a quick sniff, allowing the distinctive, musky odor to fill his nostrils and verify his fears. His legs turned to jelly and he stumbled to a halt, trying to wrap his mind around the reality of what he was tracking.

Without realizing, he had gone further than intended, and it was now too late to turn back. A guttural roar from his right snapped his full attention to a clearing a mere dozen or so paces into the wood, and it was then that he caught sight of the hulking mass outlined in the green twilight.

Joachim’s soft boots slipped on damp leaves as he scrambled to fling himself behind the trunk of a half-fallen tree, solidly out of sight of the beast. A few deep breaths did nothing to calm his wild heartbeat, for he knew the beast that was still growling and crashing around the site ahead. With the utmost care, he poked his head out just enough to examine the scene, not daring to even breathe for fear that the beast might turn on him.

It had been called an ursal by his clanmates, spoken of amongst the more experienced Hunters of the Clan only when too much drink around the fire had loosened their tongues. A monster capable of felling trees with a single swipe of its paw, quick as any man and quicker to anger. But they were rare, and Joachim had only ever seen a handful in his entire lifetime, already dead after brutal Hunts that had each sent several very talented Hunters to their rebirths. There should be none here, not now!

He silently cursed himself for having not seen the signs sooner, the unusual stillness of the forest, the lack of smaller game. Yet here he was, staring at a creature that stood head and shoulders taller than any man, and at first glance could have simply been an overgrown cave bear. That was, if he ignored the two fangs jutting from its jaw, each about as long and thick as Joachim’s forearm. Its distinctively long and sinuous tufted tail thrashed around as it lunged at the rocky face of the cliff before it.

Stricken by his luck and circumstance, it was only now that the thought occurred to Joachim that he had to run, to flee this harrowing scene and never look back. He could accept having failed the Trial, so long as he lived! And perhaps his warning would make the elders postpone the Trial, or even allow him another chance…

The ursal once again let out a low grunt and smacked a thick paw against the rocks barring its path with a loud thud. In the process, Joachim heard a distinctive yelp that sounded like a person. Focusing his gaze on a small cleft between the rocks, he found what the behemoth had been chasing, a young man who appeared perhaps only slightly younger than he, doing his best in an attempt to fuse himself into the crevasse.

A secondary perusal of the boy made Joachim gasp as he realized he bore no Birthfate Crest, like the broach of emerald and ornamental bronze which adorned Joachim’s breast, given to him on the day of his birth. Every member of the Clan, regardless of their Birthfate, would clearly display their Crest at all times, as was tradition, law, and simple good sense.

Perhaps, then, he did not have a Crest to show. Which could only mean that no Omen had graced his birth, and his Fate was unseen. They were uncommon, pariahs of the Clan who were cast out to live a nomadic life in the wastes with their compeers.

Joachim frowned as he turned to leave, doing his best to ignore the crunching stone that was now beginning to give way beneath the onslaught being unleashed upon it. No one in their right mind would risk their life for an Unseen, and no one would mourn his demise. That was the belief held collectively by the Clan, what he had been told by the elders, the Divineers, and the Shamans since he was young. But…they were not here, and could not hear this boy as he sobbed miserably and prayed to the gods which had abandoned him at birth. They could ignore the babes they sent into the wastes in wicker baskets and dream sweetly at night thinking they had pleased the gods above, never having to confront the nightmare that Joachim now faced.

The Green Moon had led him here, and now it presented him a choice.

So did Joachim make his decision, and drew four arrows from the quiver at his hip, holding them loosely in his bow hand and nocking one more. A deep breath steeled his nerves. Emerging from his hiding place, he drew arrow to cheek, noting that his earlier reticence had faded into resolution anew. This was it, his all-or-nothing moment. His rite of passage. His Hunt.

He fired five arrows in the span of a second, aiming primarily for joints. His first shot missed the mark, but the successive four each buried deep into flesh. The ursal let out a vicious snarl, arrows snapping loudly against bone as it backed away from its quarry.

Joachim was on the move even as the last arrow still flew. Trading his bow for the long knife at his belt, he sped through the clearing, spear at the ready in his other clenched fist. As he approached the creature, it took notice of him, turning, but Joachim had caught it unawares, and it could do no more. He kicked off from a nearby stone which jutted out of the otherwise level landscape and leapt into the air. Time felt slow as he hung for what seemed like an eternity, facing down the approaching fanged maw of the colossus. Then, time began to flow once more, and he was falling towards his fearsome foe.

Joachim forced all of his strength into his strike, driving his spear deep into the beast’s nape. There was a tug of resistance as the stone point punctured through tough hide, and the entire length lanced across the monster’s throat. It let out a wet gurgle of a bellow, and writhed fiercely in an attempt to shake Joachim off. But he held onto the exposed haft of his spear with a white-knuckled grip, using his other hand to repeatedly plunge his knife into the beast’s pelt, not knowing where he stabbed, only that he did. It was all he could do.

The ursal abruptly bucked hard, and Joachim grunted as the air was driven from his lungs. His grip loosened on his spear and knife as he struggled to regain his breath, and as the creature twisted sharply, he lost his grip entirely. The world spun around him as he hit the ground and rolled, only stopping when he smacked into the rocky cliff face. Dazed and exhausted, Joachim’s vision swam, and it was several moments before the multiple ursals before him coalesced into one cohesive threat, advancing upon him with lips curled, dark fluid dripping freely to glint in the muted glow of the Green Moon.

Joachim’s limbs refused to respond. His body was numb, his head filled with wool. He was going to die here, he realized. But he had long accepted that he would die during a Hunt. Born beneath Green Trest, the Omen of Mortality, he knew this was his true Birthfate, despite what the Divineers said.

The ursal snorted its hot breath into Joachim’s face from a mere arm’s length away, bringing with it the stench of carrion. He could still not move, save to futilely wriggle the tips of his fingers. There was nothing he could do as the creature tensed up, ready to spring upon him.

A battle cry sounded from over Joachim’s shoulder, and a spear shot out from the rock at his side, striking true into the eye of the beast. It yelped in a manner unbefitting of its size or demeanor, and recoiled as the spear struck again, driving it back across the clearing. The form that now stood protectively over Joachim was that of the Unseen boy, forgotten in the midst of the chaos.

He watched in disbelief as the ursal seemingly gave up, stumbling away deeper into the woods and out of sight with a defeated grunt. The Unseen boy also seemed incredulous, and let out a deep sigh before his legs gave way, and he plopped down hard upon the forest floor. They sat there for a time in silence as Joachim’s senses returned, bringing with them a pain that radiated across his ribs and shoulder.

He heard the Unseen boy crying again, but as he faced him, Joachim realized he was actually laughing instead, hysterically so. Now that the threat was gone, relief flooded in and Joachim joined him. They had defeated the beast, and survived! Together they cackled until tears came, and they grew quiet once more.

Finally, Joachim found the strength to rise, his action mirrored by his companion. Awkwardly, he mumbled, “Thank you…you saved my life, truly.”

The boy averted his gaze for a moment before nodding, and looking back into Joachim’s eyes. His were dark, like an empty night sky. “No, thank you. You risked your life for me, an Unseen. You could have easily left me to my fate. I think anyone else in your place would have. So…why? Why risk your life to save mine?”

Joachim struggled to respond. He had no good answer, as he was not entirely sure himself. His gaze wandered, and fell upon the boy’s spear, still slick. “Are you a hunter?” He asked, offhandedly, while he searched for a better comeback.

“No,” the boy replied sheepishly, “not really. I’m not very good at it, but everyone has to help the tribe however they can, you know? I ended up running into that thing, and getting chased pretty far afield. I’m sure they’re worried; I should go back.”

Joachim regarded him for a moment, taken aback by his statement. He was no hunter, but had gone on a hunt? Was this how the Unseen tribes functioned? It was in that instant he understood the truth of why the Clan had named them Unseen. They were not as despicable as everyone was led to believe. This boy could be anything he wanted to be, do anything he wished. In this world, where the circumstances of one’s birth determined their entire life, it was the Unseen alone who could ever know true freedom. This was why the Clan despised them so.

“May I see your spear?” Joachim asked shakily. The boy tilted his head in confusion, but complied, and Joachim quickly snatched the item as it was proffered, turning away from the boy. Then, he gave him his answer. “I am unsure what Unseen like you believe, or what paths you follow other than those you brazenly decide for yourselves. By our definition, you are heathens. But the Green Moon led me here tonight, and I believe there to be a good reason for that. This is why I risked my life to save yours. I thought simply that, perhaps, even a life as pitiable as yours might be worth saving. Be sure you do not let it go to waste.”

Joachim strode away, and the boy was silent for a time before he asked, “What will you do?”

Stopping and half-turning back, Joachim said over his shoulder, “The beast is weakened and on the run; it can’t have gotten far. I am a Hunter of the Clan, as is my Birthfate.” He absently tapped his Crest with a forefinger, “I must finish the Hunt.”