continue
hunting with me, you won’t do this again.”
Without
waiting for an answer, the man hopped on his horse and headed for the location
the village chief had spoken of. The thundering of hooves behind him told him
that his men were no ready to desert him—yet.
They
cantered down the dirt road and into the forest, until they reached another
point on the map. The man held up a hand and they stopped, dismounted and tied
their horses down while they proceeded on foot. Shortly, they came to a large
cave, set deep into a rock wall, and they could hear loud snoring echoing
through the stone walls to outside.
Silently,
they crept inside, and each of the men had to fight back a curse at the stench
that wafted toward them—urine, unwashed flesh and other odors best not
spoken of. The snoring became louder as they inched down the tunnel, becoming
even quieter as the flicker of torchlight came into view—they were close
to the monster’s den.
Rounding
the corner, the monster finally came into view—a hulking brute, covered
in hair from head to toe and nothing else, asleep face-up on a pile of animal
skins. Blood encrusted horns curved over his head, and they caught a glimpse of
fang from his open maw. In his left paw he held what looked like a human leg
bone, stripped clean of flesh, and there were many other bones littered across
the floor.
One of his
men accidentally stepped on one of the bones, and the crack echoed off the
cavern and woke the monster, who sat up, his red eyes glowing eagerly in the
dark. He came to his feet in a roar as he caught sight of them, and the man
cursed as he dove out of the way, and then threw one of his knives, which
landed with a solid thud between two of the behemoth’s ribs. The monster roared
in pain and lashed out with his burly arms, sending two of his hunters flying
into opposite walls. The man winced as he heard the sickening crunch of skulls
against stone.
Two of his
men who had managed to get themselves into corners peppered the monster with
arrows, taking out his eyes. It blundered around the cavern, roaring as it
tried to find a target, and the man used the opportunity to throw another
knife, this one burying itself into the monster’s heart.
It froze,
and then fell back, shaking the cavern as its body hit the floor. The hunters
stood immobile, not a single one daring to so much as twitch. Only when several
minutes had passed did they let out sighs of relief, convinced that the monster
was no more.
Shaking
his head in disgust, the man stepped forward. “Let’s collect our dead and get
out of here.”
****
“Oh,
Kyra, it’s awful,” Aunt Sylvia rushed into the living room, and Kyra looked up
from her knitting to see that her aunt’s face was pale, her bonnet still on her
forehead, which was a true sign of alarm as her aunt never wore it in the
house. “The Bennet boys are dead.”
“What?” Kyra
set her knitting aside and rose from the rocking chair. “How? When?” The
Bennets owned a farm three miles down the road from them, and were a family of
five.
Sylvia shook
her head. “I don’t know. My friend Martha told me it was some kind of mauling
from a beast—perhaps a bear.”
“How awful.”
Kyra placed a hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “Both boys? They couldn’t have been
any older than me. Judy is going to be devastated. How will they be able to
manage the farm?” The Bennets were not well-off, and could not afford to hire
extra help for the harvest. With only Mary, the youngest, left behind, they
were going to have a very hard time indeed.
“I don’t
know, but I am going to offer what help I can. I came home to gather a basket
to bring to them; I am going to offer Judy my sympathies. We are good friends,
and the Bennet boys used to come and help me with my own plowing.”
“I’ll go with
you.”
They packed a
loaf of bread and several jars of preserves, and set off. It took them much
longer than Kyra had expected to reach the Bennet
hunting with me, you won’t do this again.”
Without
waiting for an answer, the man hopped on his horse and headed for the location
the village chief had spoken of. The thundering of hooves behind him told him
that his men were no ready to desert him—yet.
They
cantered down the dirt road and into the forest, until they reached another
point on the map. The man held up a hand and they stopped, dismounted and tied
their horses down while they proceeded on foot. Shortly, they came to a large
cave, set deep into a rock wall, and they could hear loud snoring echoing
through the stone walls to outside.
Silently,
they crept inside, and each of the men had to fight back a curse at the stench
that wafted toward them—urine, unwashed flesh and other odors best not
spoken of. The snoring became louder as they inched down the tunnel, becoming
even quieter as the flicker of torchlight came into view—they were close
to the monster’s den.
Rounding
the corner, the monster finally came into view—a hulking brute, covered
in hair from head to toe and nothing else, asleep face-up on a pile of animal
skins. Blood encrusted horns curved over his head, and they caught a glimpse of
fang from his open maw. In his left paw he held what looked like a human leg
bone, stripped clean of flesh, and there were many other bones littered across
the floor.
One of his
men accidentally stepped on one of the bones, and the crack echoed off the
cavern and woke the monster, who sat up, his red eyes glowing eagerly in the
dark. He came to his feet in a roar as he caught sight of them, and the man
cursed as he dove out of the way, and then threw one of his knives, which
landed with a solid thud between two of the behemoth’s ribs. The monster roared
in pain and lashed out with his burly arms, sending two of his hunters flying
into opposite walls. The man winced as he heard the sickening crunch of skulls
against stone.
Two of his
men who had managed to get themselves into corners peppered the monster with
arrows, taking out his eyes. It blundered around the cavern, roaring as it
tried to find a target, and the man used the opportunity to throw another
knife, this one burying itself into the monster’s heart.
It froze,
and then fell back, shaking the cavern as its body hit the floor. The hunters
stood immobile, not a single one daring to so much as twitch. Only when several
minutes had passed did they let out sighs of relief, convinced that the monster
was no more.
Shaking
his head in disgust, the man stepped forward. “Let’s collect our dead and get
out of here.”
****
“Oh,
Kyra, it’s awful,” Aunt Sylvia rushed into the living room, and Kyra looked up
from her knitting to see that her aunt’s face was pale, her bonnet still on her
forehead, which was a true sign of alarm as her aunt never wore it in the
house. “The Bennet boys are dead.”
“What?” Kyra
set her knitting aside and rose from the rocking chair. “How? When?” The
Bennets owned a farm three miles down the road from them, and were a family of
five.
Sylvia shook
her head. “I don’t know. My friend Martha told me it was some kind of mauling
from a beast—perhaps a bear.”
“How awful.”
Kyra placed a hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “Both boys? They couldn’t have been
any older than me. Judy is going to be devastated. How will they be able to
manage the farm?” The Bennets were not well-off, and could not afford to hire
extra help for the harvest. With only Mary, the youngest, left behind, they
were going to have a very hard time indeed.
“I don’t
know, but I am going to offer what help I can. I came home to gather a basket
to bring to them; I am going to offer Judy my sympathies. We are good friends,
and the Bennet boys used to come and help me with my own plowing.”
“I’ll go with
you.”
They packed a
loaf of bread and several jars of preserves, and set off. It took them much
longer than Kyra had expected to reach the Bennet
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