The Hunter Bays For Spring

For the raven, perched on his spot high up in the budding aspen tree, there was every indication that spring had arrived, which meant that something alien would trespass his forest now that life was in abundance again. The forest was alight with birdsong from his fellow avians, while the pond in the late evening was raucous with the high pitch trill of the frogspawn. Gracing the drab forest floor with splashes of color were various wildflowers, beckoning the bees to pollinate them. Rabbits, squirrels and an assortment of other rodents were numerous and more active with the longer days, which meant more food for their carnivorous adversaries like the fox and coyote.

These telltale signs of life were starkly juxtaposed with the broad-shouldered hunter making his way through the forest that morning.

The raven had seen hunters before. Stealthy reapers, mowing down the living like a scythe in a field of weeds. They stalked on two feet with knives strapped to their waists, blending in with their surroundings and delivering death with their rifles that cried thunder and bled smoke. The raven was cautious, but followed him, driven by the innate curiosity that possesses all intelligent creatures.

There is something odd about this man, thought the raven as he followed him overhead. He noted that the hunter, though he waded his way through the thick foliage of the trees with caution seemed doused, like the fire that ignites their predatory nature was lacking, if not absent altogether. His rifle was slung over his shoulder. The hunter entered a clearing, and stopped short of sodden hillside. A small opening had been dug into the slope under a fallen tree, with roots draping the entrance. Tiny whimpers escaped the mouth of the opening giving away the presence of a new litter of wolf pups who pushed and squirmed blindly from within.

Of course, thought the raven. Men and wolves were always at odds with each other.

The raven held his breath as a light, spring breeze whipped its way between the trees and cut across the man’s face. If they had not detected his presence before, the wolves would surely catch his scent now. The hunter’s jaw was set, and his eyes alert, but extinguished. Not a promising disposition for one in enemy territory.

The hair on the back of the man’s neck stood up on end. His instinct seemed to tell him something that the raven recognized. Be careful.

“I could have killed you as soon as you entered the forest,” a low voice growled from behind the man.

Materializing from the shadows of the forest was a large she-wolf with part of her right ear missing.

The hunter raised his hands slowly over his head.

“It’s not loaded,” he said, nudging the rifle with his shoulder.

The nub of an ear on her head flicked as she eyed his weapon. “I’m not reassured.”

“You know I would never use it on you.”

The she-wolf scoffed, “Oh, no? But it’s fine on my brethren then?”

The hunter shook his head tiredly, “Sometime ago it was. Not anymore.” He took a step forward, which only made her raise her hackles and bare her teeth at him, exposing her pink gums. He paused, and took a step back. “Tell me what to do,” he sighed.

“Leave.”

The hunter shook his head again. “Not just yet.”

The she-wolf snarled. “Leave. This is the only mercy I will ever give you—which is more than you deserve.”

“True,” said the hunter, kneeling to the floor. “You have every right to kill me.” He tilted his head back exposing his throat. His hands still hung in the air by his head. Fool, thought the raven who watched with nervous anticipation.

“And why would I want to kill you?” asked the she-wolf, her voice raspy with sarcasm.

“We both know why.” He said leveling his eyes with hers.

The she-wolf huffed and raised her head proudly, “I want to hear you say it.”

“If it will help,” he said sucking in the air around him. “I killed the father of your nephews and nieces.”

The she-wolf scoffed, “You’ve done more than that.”

“It’s true. He was like a father to you.”

The she-wolf stood still, waiting. Her tawny eyes surveyed him, and he knew that she was listening, really listening to him now. He continued, “I’ve wiped out other packs. I would have done the same to yours.”

“You wore the pelts of my brethren on your hunts,” she said, voice quivering with rage. “Carried their carcasses home in the back of your truck when it was all done, furnishing your home with their furs, bones and marrow. You’ve profited off their deaths. And for what?”

“For sport.”

“For sport,” she echoed ruefully. “Even after I had come to call you friend.”

There was a deadening silence, as if the whole forest was poised to watch what happened next.

Suddenly the she-wolf stood on her hind legs. There was a terrible cracking noise, like two rocks smacking together, and the she-wolf doubled over, writhing as her limbs and joints rearrange themselves.

The gray fur shook all over and suddenly slid down over the bare shoulders of a young, tan woman. Standing erect, she shook her head and thick black hair cascaded down her bare back like a waterfall, covering her mangled right ear. She was naked, save for the gray fur that she held over her breasts that reached all the down to her muscled thighs. She was barefoot, but poised, and ready.

Her eyes were still tawny and focused, and she eyed the hunter, who was not daunted by the transformation itself, but held captivated by the unearthly creature standing over him.

“I knew you weren’t going to kill me,” he said.

“Let me turn back into a wolf and then, say that,” she scoffed.

“Choose whatever form you like Hahni, just hear me out.”

The she-wolf flinched backwards, as if he had reached out with his fingers to touch her. “Don’t say my secret name, Elijah,” she growled. “I forbid you to say it now that—”

“Now that I’ve killed Ki-Nek.”

“You knew what he meant to me. What all of them meant to me.”

“I didn’t know it was him.”

“So that makes it okay then? Okay that you killed a wolf?”

Elijah averted his eyes and slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” he said solemnly.

The she-wolf said nothing, but watched him with her tawny eyes.

A low whimper rose up from the den and the she-wolf responded back with a few noises. “My sister is worried,” she said after a brief exchange. “She smells you. She knows you’re here.”

“I’m going to go,” he said raising his eyes back towards her. He slowly reached up over his shoulder and slid the strap of the rifle over his head. Hahni tensed up, while the raven, still watching from the safety of the tree branch above, wondered if an exchange of violence was imminent. “But before I do, I wanted to reassure you that you won’t have to look over your shoulder anymore, at least not for me,” Elijah said holding up his rifle to her.

Hahni leaned away from the rifle he offered up to her.

Elijah laid it gently on the ground and rose slowly, reassuringly. “I wish I had stopped before. When I saw him there, looking up at me—” a shudder escaped his throat, cutting him off midsentence. For some time, he stood there, shoulders hunched forward and bottom lip quivering with the crushing weight of guilt hampering his train of thought. Hahni waited patiently, but alert. The raven saw that she had unconsciously drifted closer to Elijah as if a hidden force was drawing her near him, though her instinct compelled her to keep her guard up.

“I don’t think I will ever get over it,” Elijah said dispelling the silence. “I don’t know if I can describe what I saw—what I felt,” he said banging his chest with his fist. He began to weep and crumpled to the floor, gripping the sodden soil with his curled fingers, tearing out clumps of grass and mud as his body heaved with every wrenching breath and sob.

Hahni glanced up skyward and searched the sky for answers for what to do next. She caught sight of the raven and the two held each other’s gaze in a trance. What they exchanged in that moment, was a secret between them, and when they broke away from each other, Hahni took a step forward and felt the life that emanated from the forest floor.

Sometime between winter and spring something had alchemized. A line could not be drawn in the sand as to its exact entry into existence, but it was there, present with the birdsong and the budding of plants. The earth had given birth and from its womb the sky had been born.

Hahni sensed it, and though no one would hold it against her to cling to winter’s chill, she desired to embrace the new season. The cold was too painful to bear.

Elijah felt Hahni wrap her arms around his shaking shoulders and he returned her embrace, as the two wept together until they had separated the grain from the stalk, and when a light drizzle dampened their hair against their foreheads, cleansing them of all grudges and transgressions, the two rose to their feet and exchanged a few bit of words. What they had whispered to each other, the raven could not hear, though he had alighted to a lower hanging branch to try and eavesdrop.

Elijah held Hahni’s hand and said something inaudible before he broke himself away from her, back the way he had entered the forest. His rifle lay where he had left it, abandoned, never to be taken up by him again.

The raven followed Elijah as he made his way back through the forest. Tiny lights seemed to dance around him as strands of sunlight, poked through in pockets from the trees. Though he could not see her, he knew that a she-wolf with part of her right ear missing was following him through the forest. When he had come to the end of the forest where his world met hers, he turned and raised his hand up to her, knowing that she was there watching.

For the raven, who had settled himself high up in a budding aspen tree at the forest’s edge, there was every indication that something new had transpired.