The Three Armed Huntress

I can hear her still. Her wailing, though muffled, is so loud. Even though she's buried beneath a foot of dirt, the ground trembles at her suffocating cries. And the tree, beneath which she lies, shudders down its needles as if terrified by what has come. I hoped no one would rise out of bed before the daybreak, by which time she would surely cry no longer. Her newborn lungs could not take that earth-cage, and her thin throat could not swallow more than a spoonful of mud. Regardless, I could not stay to watch. I had to go. My father would be up within the hour, after which we would depart from this valley, until the winter passed, and spring returned. How different that spring will be, now that I have lived this. Problems will come then, but at least they will not bother me. I have already moved on.

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It was March. That time when the sun splinters through trees stripped of leaves by the frost of winter, and its light lands like holy glare on the first tufts of grass glistening with dew. Trampling along, the hunters traversed this virgin landscape in search of game. Deer and boar. And if lucky, fawn, whose tender meat sells for a third more of the cost in the market back in the city. At the front of the row went Hoplan, an aged hunter whose eye and nose were stronger than a raven in its prime. Then came three cousins, Carson, Linus, and Remus. They came together at the behest of their uncle, the father of their fourth cousin, who had died a year prior collapsing off an invisible cliff. They themselves had little to no knowledge of the hunter's craft, but served as good squires to the other much more refined hunters. After the cousins came Delbur and Delbar -- no relation. And right before the caboose -- taken up by Tanker and Lorno, bearing together a stretcher that served to both carry extra weight and anyone who got injured back to camp -- was Ersterson, often called Erst, and Anderson, his little brother; both of which were sons of Dreiman. Since they were Dreiman's sons, they were naturally gifted with strong hunter's instincts, but they were also nurtured extensively by Dreiman so that these instincts were persistently sharp, even during the off-seasons. This left the two fairly prepared, but also overly confident, and as such their attention did not worry greatly about becoming masters, as much as it did about being first to killing the best game. Erst, however, had got a taste of a different game back in the city. One that did not involve animals, but maidens, which made him anxious to be away for the weeks they had ahead of them. Three to be exact. And today was day one.

"I can already sense Fianic is going to make his move on Hannah while I'm away. He's been passively talking to her while I wasn't around, afraid that I would do anything to him. That's the mark of a coin-master's son, you get me, Andy?"

"I do," said Anderson, shrugging his pack higher up his back.

"And she's too young and immature to stay still. As soon as she sees his lined pockets , she'll run away with him. That's why I think I need to aim higher."

"Aim higher? What do you mean? She's the prettiest girl your age."

They rose up an incline with thin steps made of exposed roots and buried boulders. Erst went up without looking at his feet.

"Exactly. She's the prettiest girl my age, but think of missis Glenda. She's far more mature than Hannah, and her looks are nothing to frown upon."

Anderson squirmed at the thought. Glenda was his tutor, and easily outgrew Anderson by a near decade. "Are you sure she's who you're interested in?"

"She's an option," answered Erst. "And I know I have what it takes to woo her. It certainly excites me to think about it."

As Erst scurried up the ridge with ease, Anderson couldn't help but liken him to a coyote or leopard, hungry and ambitious. It was not the same before Erst turned sixteen in January. He seemed more at ease with where he was. Now he wants more, and is capable of more.

"Get a move on, boy," grumbled Tanker from behind Anderson. "Or else, you can help heave this cargo up!"

"Actually," cut Lorno in a softer voice. "Why don't you do that? Come around the back and help us push it up from below."

Anderson obeyed, partly from humility, and partly from pride of being asked to help lift something heavier than he'd usually be asked to lift. Stepping off the trail and pressing between the stretches and a tree, he got to the back and bent down to push as the other two pulled. 

"Use your legs and not your back!" said Lorno.

"And warn us if you see we're gonna step on a loose stone!" demanded Tanker.

On three, they raised the stretcher off the ground. Anderson hissed through his teeth as he struggled to keep it up, and promptly his arms gave way as the stretcher was tilted towards him.

"Alright put it down!" cried Tanker. "You're still too little to do the job from that end. Let's lower it, then I'll give you my rope and I'll push from the back."

Anderson frowned at being called "too little". He surely didn't think he was. But he was too smart to try again. He'd only make a further fool of himself. Tanker and he, therefore, swapped places.  Anderson looped the rope around this upper arm, and gripped it tightly. Then, after counting to three, the stretcher was in the air again, only this time they kept it there. Slowly they tilted it up the ridge, and carefully, began to rise. It was an arduous and sweat-enducing labor. There was even a moment when Anderson was going to give way, but that was right before the stretcher began to flatten out again. It seemed they had made it. 

"Alright, even it out. Even it ou-"

As Anderson looked from the stretcher to Tanker, he saw that his expression had gone from his usual scrunch to a wide-spread look of shock! He looked so startled in fact, that Anderson thought Tanker was having a heart attack. And as if he did, his legs gave way, slipping on a loose rock, sending him toppling back down the ridge to the bottom, with all the excess cargo falling on top of him and crushing him. Anderson, flew after, with his arm still tethered to the stretcher, and with a *pop* he felt his shoulder loosen from his torso, and he landed backwards with a searing pain.

When the screaming began, the other hunters gathered at the top of the ridge to see the disaster that had occurred. Dreiman, standing taller than all the others, looked most displeased.

"What a shame!" he exclaimed. "The first day, and half of us are already crippled!"

Three hours were spent at the foot of that ridge to assess the damage. Lorno, who was at the front with Anderson, was the least hurt of the three, with only a purple bruise circling his arm. Second was Anderson, who had dislocated his arm entirely, and had spent an hour and a half screeching and moaning from the pain, complaining the most when Hoplan had fixed it back into its socket; now he was red faced and fatigued, with a sling holding his arm in place. Worst off was Tanker, who suffered severe pain after the stretcher had crushed his jaw. He sobbed quietly throughout the day and the forthcoming nights, unable to make an account about what caused all of this in the first place.

Since they had not travelled far into the forest, Hoplan and Dreiman decided that the band should return to the hunters village and reassess the situation from there. With bitterness and regret, they made their homeward journey, abandoning day one to failure.

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"What did you see?" whispered Erst to Anderson, the sweet smell of apple and booze on his tongue.

Anderson was unresponsive. He glared steadily into the campfire shaking with the wind, though he didn't see the fire. He saw Tanker's eyes, and his sharp expression, smitten by an invisible force.

Erst shook him by his dislocated arm, causing him to flinch away, but back into the present.

"What did you see? What made Tanker fall?" Erst repeated. "I saw some rocks had given way when you fell. Was that it? That clumsy oaf!"

"Yeah, that must have been it," said Anderson dismissively.

Again, Erst touched Anderson's sore arm, sending through his nerves a sharp pain. "Little brother, you know I was joking. Tanker's as lofty as an oak, and that ridge was not as frail as I make it sound. He see an animal? You make fun of his wife? What was it, tell me."

"I can't tell you what happened because I don't know!" hissed Anderson.

"Keep the fire in the pit. I'm sure if there was something to see, your senses would have caught it. Fatty probably ate too much lard in the morning and it caused him stomach pains."

As Erst took another swig of his drink, Anderson overheard a conversation his father and Hoplan were having as they came out of Tanker's cabin.

"He's in shock, Dreiman. I don't think he'll be able to go out with us again tomorrow, or most likely for the following days."

"How many do you suspect?" asked Dreiman, cross-armed.

"If you're asking for honesty, probably the next ten days."

"Ten days? Why not put him out of his misery while we're at it! Ten days is over a quarter of our stay. If we're to make a good claim on this land before the market fair in April, we need everyone working together full time, and I suspect if he stays behind, others will also."

"Most likely me," Hoplan clicked his tongue. "As I am the most savvy with medicine here."

Dreiman idled unresponsive for a moment, looking down searchingly. He scratched his bearded chin then passed his fingers through his long hair. Only after he had done these things, did he speak again. "We will take the next three days to reorganize ourselves. You can keep one of the cousins with you. I will lead the rest back out to the forest."

"I might need one other to help me with Tanker, Lorno, and your boy."

"No, because the rest includes Lorno and Anderson," he said stoically. 

Hoplan paused in surprise. He knew three days was no time at all for them to make a safe recovery before setting out for the long week they had planned, nor would they be of very much use. But he knew better than to tell Dreiman how to treat his men, much less his boy.

"You remind me so much of your father," said Hoplan.

Dreiman let his arms fall by his sides. "Who is my father?" he replied. Then he walked away, towards Erst and Anderson.

He sat down between them. They dwarfed in comparison to him, who was easily a head taller than Erst, the second tallest out of all the men; and next to Anderson, he could easily be seen as twice as tall. Without permission, he seized Erst's mug, and chugged its contents down to the last drop. After, he pointed a finger to a tall trunk of a conifer in the middle of the village, the branches of which had been severed off, and replaced with the ornamental heads of game caught over the last twenty years.

"Look at those skulls. The mind-cage of more than a dozen creatures, that no matter how instinctive or fierce, could not parallel the power and knowing of a grown man. You two are also men, and in your blood is the blood of hunters. The apex predators of the world. If you see something you want, go take it. If there's anything stopping you, you kill it. Understood?"

Erst nodded enthusiastically. His black eyes reflected the pale light of the moon. Anderson was caught under Dreiman's arm, holding him close and in place. He looked at the totem of bones that pinnacled the village. It was like a serpent of death.

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After three days, Anderson did not feel any better. His arm was still very sore and very sensitive to any pressure put on it, but Dreiman still clothed him in his red cape, and holstered on him a pack, almost as heavy as the one he last had.

"Ersterson and Anderson," he called them. "You'll be right behind me this time. Avoid slowing down. We have a lot of distance to make up for."

Lorno looked at Anderson sympathetically, nodding to his own arm that he dared not move. Anderson, however, did not reciprocate. It was better to bolster up his strength through the thought of solitude than the possibility of relief through others. Having convinced himself of this, he followed his father and older brother back out into the trail, leaving behind ease and comfort for the weaker man.

Neither faster or slower than three days ago, did they reach that same ridge that nearly killed Tanker, only this time Dreiman and the rest, except for Anderson and Lorno, heaved it up without risking even a bruise or sprain, and onward they continued through the forest, whose birds sung hopefully, and whose squirrels chittered playfully. 

At intervals, they would hear other sounds. The bubbling of melted-snow creeks, the writhing of eaves, the shuffling of sticks and leaves from the Fall before. There were slim green snakes slithering under bundles of stones. There were worms that went squish when Delbur or Delbar accidentally stepped on them. Snapped twigs, gossimer, and berries, all hung from the bushes and trees constricting their path. At long last, they reached a clearing, from which they could see a descending valley, spotted by the shadows of clouds crossing the very blue sky, and off in the distance, a town.

"That's the hamlet of Nelham," said Linus, one of the cousins who stayed. "It's the nearest spot of civilization to here. Deep history with hunters and witches that place carries."

"Hah! Witches! There's no such thing!" cut in Delbar with his hands to his hips.

"There is! There is! My uncle told me of one who lived within our lifetime."

"What do you say? I've never heard that story."

Delbar leaned his pack against the bough of a stubby tree. The others found tall boulders or other accessible branches to do the same with. Dreiman was the only one who didn't do this.

"I'll tell you it!" said Linus proudly. "It was that once there was a young witch who tread the very forest we're hunting in today, and she was a master of life and death. When she commanded a creature to live, no hunter would be able to slay it. And if she desired its life be cut short, the beast would bow before its predator and surrender its breath to it. The hunters at the time thought this to be an amazing opportunity to get rich quick, so they enticed her with whatever they had to offer for her services. Fortunately for them, she complied, and quickly they gathered up a mountain of carcasses and pelts that they would sell for a fortune at the Spring market. Why do you think there's that huge totem pole at the village?"

"Is that from her?" wondered Anderson.

"Nonsense! I've been working this trail much longer than any of you have been alive and I've never seen this witch," argued Dreiman, spitting mint leaves he'd been chewing on the ground next to him.

"You must have missed her then, because it wasn't long before her gifts became a curse."

Anderson leaned forward, careful not to move his aching arm too much.

Linus continued. "One of the hunters had a son, who was riddled with bloodlust and ambition. For this reason, his first year of hunting, he was prepared to bring the largest and the most game out of all the other hunters present, without the assistance of anyone or anything. But to his disappointment, the witch huntress had him beat on this endeavor, and nothing he did would earn him greater recognition than she. So one night, whilst all the other hunters were asleep, he stole into her cabin -- long since burned down as the magic of that place was too intense for anyone else to dwell in -- and killed her, stabbing a deer horn through her gut. In that exact moment, the witch's body pulverized, and none was left the wiser for what had happened."

"None was left the wiser, huh? So how do you know it really happened?" asked Delvar with a smirk on his blond face. 

Linus raised a finger with the conviction to speak. He stopped himself. After, he let out a great guffaw that confused most of his audience.

"You're a talented story teller," said Dreiman. "Maybe you should be at a tavern instead of here."

Linus' laugh died down at this remark.

"It serves to pass the time," said Delvar in his defense. Delbur, Lorno, and Anderson quietly agreed, but Erst and the others were on Dreiman's side.

"No more stories. They serve little and waste time. Let's move. I want to reach the overpass before dusk."

With difficulty, Anderson managed to fix his pack back onto himself. His right shoulder was already burning with pain from having most of the pack's weight bear down on it, but he didn't complain. He refused to complain. They kept traversing the forest up-hill, and accomplished to reach a grotto where there was space beneath the stone walls to prop down ones sleeping mat and find safe rest, away from the elements.

That night, the pain Lorno and Anderson bore kept them both awake until the late hours of the morning. Sometime during the night, Lorno began conversing...

"You're tougher than you look," he said. Because of his tongue being shorter than normal, he had a kind of accent that made him miss the pronouncing of s's and r's. Anderson didn't know this, so he replied in a snarky tone:

"You're smarter than you sound."

"Thank you. How did you come to be here? I mean I get Dreidan's your father, but you must be twelve years old, tops."

"Thirteen," he snapped back. "And I am here because of just my father. My eyes are better than even Hoplans, and my ears are as good as those of hounds."

Lorno took hold of his ear and rattled it as if to get an itch out. "You have me beat there! I suppose being young comes with benefits. But can you throw a spear, shoot a bow, stab a knife?"

"All of that and more. My father's had me hunting since I was five. It was on my birthday then that I caught my first animal. A wild turkey."

"Those are fast ones, aren't they? You are quite the man already. Can't have been easy though."

Anderson adjusted his head on his pack, swallowed in an extra cloak. "Easy doesn't make you tough. And I have to be tough. I am my father's son."

"It's in your blood, is it?" Lorno chortled. "Tell me then, what part of you is your mother's blood?"

"The weak part," he answered without hesitation.

"Why do you say that?" asked Lorno, surprised at his frankness.

"My mom, she cooks, she cleans, she knits, she gossips with other women in the city. That's it. That's all she does. She reminds me of doe grazing. Idling until one day a wolf comes and it has to run for its life or die. No power to defend itself, no desire to do anything more."

Lorno stifled a melancholy chuckle, then shedding a smile, he said to Anderson. "How much peace of self one must have to see ones life fulfilled with mundane tasks and living in the service -- and for the service -- of men like us. And using your metaphor, think of the guts a doe must have not just to graze in the forest of wolves, but in the daily presence of wolves, and how much strength it must take for that doe to calm that wolf down so it is tame."

Anderson helplessly cringed at Lorno's remarks, then without exchanging another word, turned away from him, and stared at the rock wall underwhich they lay. He read the grooves on its surface like markings on a carving. Only from his mind, he saw the woodland, and a meshed bundle of wolves, and a bow firing into the ground, and a headless chicken running away. Once or twice he rubbed his eyes, and through the fatigue saw some of those creatures and trees in the stone surface shift as the campfire got weaker and weaker. Each element seemed to grow taller and more menacing, but ever more faint, until eventually it got so dim that he could not distinguish any more images. Anderson blinked a few more times, and was near to dreaming, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He rolled over expecting Lorno to tell him some other nonsense that had come to him in his boredom, but what Anderson saw instead was Tanker! He was kneeling over him, with one hand on Anderson and the other around the shaft of a white arrow protruding from his neck. Anderson gasped, and felt his chest implode as he gazed at the pulled back expression of shock on the burly man's face.

Slowly, Tanker dragged the arrow in him aside, so that he could then pull Anderson close to him. So close, he pulled him, that the boy felt the spurting of blood from Tanker's neck spray his face.

"Look!" said Tanker in a gastly voice. Anderson saw then that in the hunter's eyes there was a glimmer, as if the moon were stricking down on them. There was no moon tonight, however, and the white shape was not round, but lean. A human figure. From it, three limbs seemed to emerge. That of a singular leg and two arms, or perhaps two legs -- one raised -- and one arm. And on that one arm, it the latter was the case, there was held a crescent staff. A bow, as white as the rest of the human, seemingly part of it.

"Anderson!" he heard shout.

When he opened his eyes, morning greeted him. The sun washed the upper rims of the grotto, and lit the band as they sat on their mats or capes biting bread loafs and cheese chunks. Erst was himself standing over Anderson with a quizzical look, probably thinking Why are you so sweaty? But instead of saying anything, what he did was swing Anderson's pack at his head, nearly giving him a concussion.

"You awake now?" he asked rhetorically, then walked away to where Dreiman was, all set to depart.

Anderson groaned as he rubbed his head in soothing circles. Whilst he did so, Lorno -- who was sitting close by -- crawled over to see how he was doing.

"The sling holding up?"

When Anderson looked at his arm he saw the sling had come loose overnight. Lorno offered to redo it, and Anderson allowed him. Whilst tightening it, Lorno badgered him with questions about how he slept, how he felt for the day ahead... but none of them were answered. Until they started trekking again, all Anderson could think about was the horror he had witnessed in his dream, and what that three armed creature could be.

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There was a riven dividing the forest in two. A ravine with a river cutting through it that ran down from the white-capped mountain. So cold was its waters that falling into it would not only drag you away swiftly, but also freeze your circulation within a matter of minutes. To cross it was easy, however. One only had to approach a raft constructed at the narrowest part of the river. It was attached with a strong rope to either end, and shored up during the off seasons. After descending the bank and landing on the rock bed, the band marched under the shadow of the mountain towards where the raft rest. They had to walk in a straight line, as the water had rose higher and raced faster than it had in the past, leaving little room on its margins between itself and the bordering cliffs. Every little bit, you could hear anyone of the hunters splash their foot in the water that rose and fell sporadically, followed by a mild cuss or groan. There came a point when you would not only hear complaining at random intervals, but fairly consistently.

"My feet are freezing!" yelled Delbur finally. "The path's only getting slimmer and slimmer. When are we supposed to reach this crossing by?"

"We just have to turn the bend here," said Dreiman. "And the raft will be there."

At this point, the hunters were resting a hand against the cliff surface next to them, and pressing closely against it so as to walk on the thin line of dry pebbles that covered the river sides. But because Anderson was unable to do this -- his hurt arm getting in the way -- he walked with one foot dry and the other half submerged. He could slowly feel sensations fade from the latter foot, but he did not want to mention it.

"Dreiman, we should turn back!" said Lorno.

"Be quiet!" hissed Erst. "Can you not bear a slight chill on your toes?" 

"We should have reached it by now." Lorno continued. "But there's no sign of it. Perhaps the river's washed it away. And even if it's just up ahead, look at the other bank. We're not going to be able to walk on it, but swim! Let's return when the --"

"Look!" shout Delvar. "There's the crossing!"

What he pointed to so excitedly, however, was not what they hoped to see. Instead of a dock and a raft nestled against it, there was a ruin. A selection of logs and planks with rope threader through them, sticking out of the ground or washed to the river's margins, and the raft, nowhere to be seen.

"It's been destroyed!" said Delvar. "But how?"

Delbur threw his hands up in the air, nearly tipping over. "Look at the river's rage! Isn't it obvious?"

"No," interfered Anderson, craning forward. "Observe..."

Upon closer inspection, the stumps did not hold the same reddish hue of the wood it was cut from. Even what was wet was darker than normal. Some of these pieces were black; charred by the looks of it. And the rope too, seemed to have been in part burnt to ashes.

"Indeed, it's been set ablaze. Could it have been lightning that struck it?" asked Lorno.

"Ha! I'd believe a bear did it more than lightning!" said Delbur. His hands back at his sides.

"Then vandalism?"

Each of them puzzled over what could have happened, staring closely to see if they could learn, but the distance between them and it made it difficult. Additionally, they could not get closer, and in fact, the water lopped harder and harder against their legs the longer they lingered.

Dreiman carefully spun around and faced back towards the way they came. Without command, they each agreed to follow his direction.

"Well, how else are we going to cross?" asked Delbur. "I thought this was the only way."

"It is," said Dreiman at last. "But we'll have to find another. I will not wait for tomorrow to try our luck again."

When they had again reached the ramp that brought them up the cliff, they took time to snack and dry their pants and shoes as best they could. Exposing their feet was hardly more comfortable than leaving them in their boots, as a wind brisk blew through the dell. They had to do so, regardless, and after drying off, they bundled their feet in whatever they could get their hands on to warm them up again.

"So... what's the plan?" asked Linus, who had not spoken in a while. His mind was too captivated by the vista of the mountain that he had lost interest in their troubles until the others fell uncomfortably silent.

Dreiman pressed his lips against his hands. The fingers of his right hand scratched at the back of his left as if to unearth wisdom from it. After a pause, he spoke up.

"There is no other way across besides by using the raft. But since the raft is not there, we are left with a few alternatives. We can explore the tail-end of the river to see if perhaps the raft may have drifted to there. We can also attempt to drop a long enough log across the gap so we may walk across. Lastly, we can wait until the morning and swim across when the river's calmed."

Anderson could not really conceive how he could swim across the river in the state he was in, nor did the others really light up at the idea. One could see in each of their faces how they bargained with themselves on what to do, or rather, what not to do. But Lorno had another look come upon him like a vision of hope.

"Did anyone see what was beyond the ruin of the raft?" he asked aloud.

Each one of the hunters looked into each others eyes searchingly, but none replied. Dreiman glanced at Lorno intently.

"No one did, right? So who's to say there raft wasn't further up the river, or perhaps some other way to cross that was prepared after the raft came apart?"

Again the hunters looked at each other, this time mixing nods and shakes of their heads into the mix.

"There's no reason to believe there is, and to make that journey again in vain would waste time we could invest cutting wood or exploring downstream," said Erst. "It's not in our interest."

"We can split ourselves," Anderson interjected. His older brother who was next to him glared over with evident discontent. "We're enough to split each of these tasks, and it would arguably be more wasteful for us to limit ourselves doing only two tasks that require no more than a quarter of us."

"Truly, and look at his arm. He won't be cutting lumber any time soon," snickered Delbur.

Dreiman pulled his hands apart and began pointing with his right at the different hunters.

"Then it will be done like this. Delbur, Delvar, and Linus will search for a log that is tall and accessible enough that we can use as an improvised bridge. They will then begin cutting it with the three axes we've brought with us, with ample time for myself and Lorno to explore the side of the river leading to its mouth, with hopes we will find the raft somewhere there. Ideally, we will return before the tree cutting is done so as to not make the axe blades unnecessarily dull. Finally, we will address Lorno's curiosity by sending up Anderson and Erst up the river again."

Erst's look of discontent turned to distaste as he turned to Dreiman. He did not at all see himself as useful running path, and Anderson himself imagined himself being more useful elsewhere. But when the two boys chose to question their father's decision, he quickly rebutted their query by stating that he trusted them more with searching an area they're already familiar with over another that may harbor unwarranted wildlife or other perils -- particularly with Anderson's condition.

"Alternatively, you can stay here, waiting for the rest of us," he finished telling them.

Of course, they would not pick that final option, so the two agreed to do as they were told. The rest were already halfway up to their feet, squishing them back again into their cold damp shoes.

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"Hannah," Erst muttered to himself. "If only you could wait, Hannah..."

He sounded almost as annoying to Anderson as the gritting sound of pebbles beneath him. Was he not aware of the delusion he was concocting in his head? Hannah was hardly his in the first place, and now he couldn't fathom the idea of her cheating on him with someone else; if it could even be called cheating. For all he knew, she could be remaining loyal to him, waiting patiently for his return. This was his flaw. The thing that would keep him from being the best. Were he to keep his mind on the hunt, he would be head of his own band. Instead, he's still parading around with Dreiman and his little brother, who's certain he has more potential than Erst.

All these thoughts swarmed Anderson's head like a cloud of flies, as he and his brother marched along the river bank once more, in a steady course forward. The shadow of the mountain was no longer on them, as the sun had passed it, and began swerving down towards the distant peaks on the horizon. Peaks that from the river side, the brothers could not see.

The river had already reached its peak by the look of the wet pebbles that rest away from the river's edge. Although Anderson and Erst had each got themselves a walking staff, it did not seem it would be as critically useful as it might have been the hour prior. By the time the water hit their feet, they would be much farther ahead than they were last time. This, along with its slower speed, felt safe.

"Tell me more about missis Glenda," demanded Erst. "Is there anyone she's interested in?"

Anderson let out a long exhaustive sigh. "Did you ever even get a good look at her? Her eyes are so split apart they make her look frog-like. And her saggy chin, too, makes me really think she might have a frog in her family."

"But her chest and her rump barely fit in her clothes!" said Erst as he slapped his rear. "That's something not even Hannah can brag about, as good as she is. Besides, don't they say looks don't matter? It's what's inside that makes a good woman."

"Or in your case, what you can put inside."

Erst chortled stupidly, saying "That was a good one!" But Anderson was not at all amused, white-knuckling his staff out of palpable frustration. He wanted to turn around and punch Erst in the groin. Wake him up to the reality that wasting his time with women would get him nowhere. The only consolation Anderson felt was that he, at least, was not like his brother. He was better. And perhaps this hunt would prove it.

"Hey, we're here," said Erst pointing ahead to the ruin of the raft. Except, it wasn't a ruin.

"The raft! It's right there!" gasped Anderson.

Indeed, basking in the golden reflection of the cliff wall opposite to it, was the raft. And it was tethered with thick cords to either side of the river, where the stumps of wood up that made the docks were set. Neither of them could believe what they were seeing. It was as if what they saw on their first time around was a mirage. Though, not entirely. The raft and ropes were back, but the docks remained charred and damaged.

"We have to run back and tell the others!" Anderson exclaimed. "They'll be so relieved when they hear about this."

Erst squinted his eyes with suspicion, letting out a pondering sound through his nose. "It's back. Clearly, it is..." 

Anderson looked up at Erst puzzled. There was a kind of expression on him that eluded words.

"I want to stay here," Erst announced, straightening up and stepping forward.

"Why? Let's not waste time. We want to avoid the others going too far into their tasks."

"Yes, you can go," Erst continued. His feet splashed carelessly as he approached the dock.

Before Anderson made another complaint, Erst told him that he wanted to take the time to inspect the reliability of the raft, and to check if there was anyone around who might have put it back in its place. When Anderson argued that they should do that together, Erst told him that if he got this figured out now, they would not have to delay any longer when the others arrived. Helpless to convince him further, Anderson began to run back to camp.

Once Anderson's step was a mere whisper in the distance, Erst jumped onto the dock, unafraid of breaking it. He cupped his hands around his mouth, and called out across the river.

"You're good, but your ability to hide needs work. Show yourself, whoever you are, hidden behind the post. Show yourself, and I won't be forced to capture you for vandalism."

Nothing moved. With surety, Erst came closer to the water, raising his voice once again.

"I know you're there! I saw you shuffling around as I was walking up. If you do not wish to provoke me, I suggest you reveal yourself to me!"

Again, there was no reaction from the ghost behind the post. Erst was certain of what he had seen. No illusion like the disappearance and return of the raft. Plus, he did not believe in magic. He did believe in the power of intimidation, so without further hesitation, he unsheathed his bow and trained it on the post.

He said, "Can you hear the strain of my bow-string? I've got an arrow notched with only one destination if you refuse to come out in the next ten seconds, and it will not be my quiver."

Erst was bluffing. He had not taken out an arrow and prepared it on his bow, but the tugging of the bow-string sure made it seem as if he was ready to fire something. Before his countdown reached zero, a hand emerged from behind the post. His eyes widened in satisfaction of knowing he was correct, but a second later, in amazement. There then emerged a leg, stepping out into the open, then a head. A woman, with long red hair, peered out at Erst. She was unbelievably pale, and clothed in what looked to be swaddling cloths. A baby's dressing. But she was older than Erst, perhaps even older than Lorno, who was himself thirty-two. One thing was certain, she was stunningly beautiful, and somehow childlike in her calm exposure. 

"Who are you," asked Erst, lowering his bow. "How did you get here?"

She did not speak a word in response to him. 

"Are you lost? Are you with another hunter?"

Hoarsely, she projected a sound from her throat. It was too quiet for Erst to hear, so he leaned out further over the water. The second time she said it, he seemed to make it out.

"Hunter?" she asked.

Erst shouted back. "Yes, a hunter. Are you out here with another hunter?"

"No," she said. "You... hunter?"

"Me? Yes, I am a hunter. See?" He raised his bow into the air as if to show his certificate of hunterhood.

"You. I want you."

Erst cocked his head sideways, trying to unlock the meaning of this strange phase. Did she mean that she wanted his protection? Or did she mean...

"You," she said once more. "I want you."

A familiar feeling bubbled inside of Erst's chest. A feeling that bubbled up to his head and popped an assortment of new thoughts into his mind-cage. A beautiful woman, lost in the woods, afflicted by poverty and stupidity, wanted Erst specifically. This could be the hunt he'd always dreamed of. The pursuit of a wild woman.

"Run..." was the next thing he said.

She idled, not understanding or perhaps not caring to react to his commands. But Erst said it again.

"Run!"

Swiftly he notched an arrow on his bowstring and pulled it right up to his peck. Unleashing it, the arrow flew across the river and into the post the woman used for cover. Erst prepared a second arrow, but before firing it, he shouted again for her to run. This time, she obeyed. And whilst his head was to the ground, she sprinted away, barefoot. Next time he looked up, not raising his bow, he watched as her legs moved with strength and grace, and her hair slapped the at the air like a loose flame.

Erst sat on the dock all alone, with his feet resting on the raft before him. After letting out a long sigh, he laughed to himself. he laughed a long, rolling laugh that almost brought tears to his eyes. One could suppose that he was having the time of his life, or that he had gone totally mad. When he finally came to a stop, he realized something. If the others were to arrive and cross the river with him, he would not be able to go on the pursuit of the woman without their observant eye being trained on his rather questionable actions. If he desired to do this, to hunt the wild woman, he would have to go ahead on his own.

The golden light that struck the cliff walls of the riven had almost fully faded by the time Dreiman and his company arrived at the crossing. When Anderson looked to see where his brother was, he noticed that he'd gone. 

"He's crossed without us," said Anderson with a tremor in his voice. He recalled that once he'd left him here, the boat had been on their side of the river, whereas now it was on the other. This, he told the others.

"What could he be doing? Surely not preparing another camp. We've hours, still, before the day is done," said Delvar.

"Perhaps he saw a fine boar, and thought himself capable of capturing it all on his own!" boomed Delbur. "He did take his bow."

"And a set of daggers as well. You might be right, Delbur," said Lorno.

"Or it could have been the witch that took him!" said Linus. "He had not been very patient with my story. This could be her way of showing him his recklessness!"

Dreiman caught Linus' eye with a sharp glance that cut his speech. Impatiently, he grasped at the ropes that tied the raft to the docks, and began to pull it towards him. The others followed his lead, and after a few strained tugs, they managed to bring the raft to their side. Taking turns, they began crossing the river, two or three at a time. After three trips, they were all across. 

"Let's make our way out of this ravine, and when we reach the forest, it'll be easier to track down my son."

Out of all of the theories proposed, Linus' one stuck out to Anderson the most. When he had left Erst, he had made the impression he wasn't going anywhere. There was also the question of his obsession with Hannah and missis Glenda, that Anderson thought stole all his desire for the hunt. Finding a vengeful witch in the forest did not seem a far off reason for him to leave his place, or his misplaced desires to trigger a dangerous reaction from her. In any case, after last night's events, and what happened to Tanker a few days ago, Anderson was right to worry.

<> <> <>

Tap, tap, tapping echoed through the hunter's cabin as Tanker tapped his foot incessantly. He had survived his accident, and was recovering, but the recovering was slow and painful. Around the clock, Hoplan and his youthful assistants would administer ointment on the big hunter's neck, and gently drip medicinal tea down his throat -- if he were complacent. Most of the time, he wasn't, claiming through deaf mutters and scratchy grunts how he'd rather bear the pain of the ache on its own than with the assistance of any substance. He wanted to be tough, but he also worried a little too much about recovering the addiction he'd left behind only last year.

Hoplan didn't allow tanker to move from the bed. Any shift of his head could not only cause him serious pain, but risk the recovery process. For this reason, he became more and more restless, and each day tried harder and harder to yell a "shut up" at Carson or Remus, who tried singing to him or making jokes to cheer him up. Hoplan did not bother him as much. He tended to mind his own business, pondering of home or reading through textbooks of fauna and the seasons, and medicines and wild herbs, too, for Tanker's sake.

Around the same time that Erst had escaped into the forest at the other side of the mountain, Tanker began to speak again, though it sounded very mute. The two cousins simultaneously called for Hoplan to return, who had gone out moments earlier to do laundry by the creek. He dropped his clothes down where he was, and ran back to Tanker.

"Danger," he wheezed like a fireplace bellow.

"Oh dear, we're losing him. His mind's drifting now," joked Remus.

"Don't worry, Tanker. Carson here couldn't hurt a mouse. You're safe from him," piggybacked Carson.

Hoplan had made it just in time to hear the two's stupid remarks, and shoved them aside as he came very close to Tanker's lips.

"Woman..." Tanker added.

"A woman? Where? Haven't seen meself a woman since we left the city! She wouldn't happen to be a wandering prostitute or gypsy, would see? In either case, I haven't got a penny on me."

Hoplan stood up and swinging a rag at Remus' head, he urged the two out of the cabin, ordering them to keep out and do the laundry work as punishment.

"What woman? There is no woman here," Hoplan reassured him.

"I... saw... a woman. Clothed in... white. She... tried... killing... me."

Tanker let out a loud moan, as his whole body tensed up, sending his hips into the air. Lightning fast, Hoplan pressed down on his shoulders, so his head would not move.

"Are you talking about the day of the accident? You saw a woman? How did she try to kill you?"

Tanker's face was all scrunched up from the anguish, and after a long silence, he finally said. "Bow... of bone."

"A huntress?" Hoplan's eyes mazed through his thoughts. Until, he reached a conclusion. "No," he said. "You're thinking of things long passed. It's your infection. It's making you believe that what happened when you were a child is still happening today. The huntress is long dead and buried. She only lives in your imagination." 

"I saw her! I saw her!" 

Again, Tanker's body shot up from the bed, and his head wagged uncontrollably from left to right. He jostled so violently that Hoplan had no way to control it, and a moment later he heard a crack, and Hoplan's neck gave out, and his head went limp. His chest deflated steadily. The light in his eyes was extinguished. He was dead.

 "Damn it!" yelled Hoplan, standing up from his stool and launching it into the dormant fireplace.

The cousins, who were just outside the door, rushed in with serious concern. When they saw Tanker lying there, they came to their own conclusion.

Hoplan barged through them on his way out, and swore fiercely for this absurd tragedy. Then, raising his eyes toward the totem pole in the center of the camp, an unnerving sensation entered his heart. Tanker's last words -- I saw her! I saw her! -- reverberated with great intensity. It couldn't be true, Hoplan reasoned. And yet, he found no peace.

"What do we do now?" asked Carson, who had snuck up on him.

Slowly, Hoplan turned to him with an aged look.

"You and Remus bury him in the old graveyard behind the storage cabin," he said with a strange calm. "Pick a a good spot. Dig deep and fast. After you wrap his body in clean linen, lower him in and cover him in dirt, tightly packed. Whilst you are doing that, I will pack everything we need to rejoin the others."

"Will we be able to catch up to them?"

"We will. Now, get your cousin, and move it."

As Carson turned away to tell Remus what Hoplan told him, the old hunter glanced up again at the totem pole. Countless skulls resting on its severed branches. He recalled the day it was made, and in homage of whom.

"The huntress is dead," he muttered. "She's dead."

<> <> <>

"I think it's dead," said Linus. He dug his thumb into the trunk of a greyish tree. It went in and peeled the bark off with utter ease. "Won't make for good tinder. Find another."

"It looked healthier from afar. I can hardly tell the good trees from the bad ones in this light."

They had walked a short ways off the path to collect sticks and firewood for the night, already setting in.

"Simply copy my action of digging your thumb into the trunk of any tree you suspect of being worth cutting. If your thumb goes in, it's sick. But, if you cannot pierce through the trunk, you can count it as healthy."

"I know the trick," said Anderson, chewing on smugness. "I was talking about how they looked from a distance. That's it."

Linus turned to him, rubbing his sap-sticky thumb on his sleeve to clean it. "Then do it, Anderson." 

Anderson left Linus' side and traversed with great strides over the messy forest floor, aiming to step on the clear patches of dirt instead of the rotting logs, broken sticks, moss covered stones, or clingy shrubs that clawed at his pantlegs. He passed by where the rest of the band had settled. A circle of boulders serving as a low fence to the elements. Delvar and Delbur sharpened the ax blades they had uselessly dulled that afternoon, and Lorno took account of all their possession, ensuring nothing had been lost or even stolen. He also arranged the meals for each hunter that night, putting chunks of bread, ham, and butter in separate napkins and afterwards bundling them up inside a separate bag. He caused quite a ruckus whilst doing this, when a wandering spider had made its way onto the piece of ham Lorno had attempted to sneak into his mouth. Not only did he draw half the forest's attention to himself with the below he produced from the scare, but also the subsequent screams coming from Delvar and Delbur as they barraged him with insults for abusing his role of food-distributor.

As he was going around the camp, Anderson noticed that his father wasn't with the others. Unlikely to get a question through their cacophonous cries, he chose to walk on in his search of good trees, and worry about Dreiman's whereabout sat a later time.

He looked back at Linus who was gathering sticks and tinder into his arms with a kind of jealousy. Not that he desired to have his job, but when he would come across a nice piece of wood that would make excellent kindling, he had no choice but to step over it. His left arm, still disabled, made most of his role in the hunt quite futile. Recognizing that inspired another thought in him. Where were all the animals? They were now in the denser part of the woods, at a time when many animals should be arriving to the end of their hybernation. And even if many were still asleep, hundreds others would use these warmer days to procure what they needed to live on a daily basis. But no hoot or skitter was heard, or slither or tweet. The river hissing in the distance and the wind breezing through the branches fingering the sky were about all the sounds present that eve. Then, another. The sound of heavy breathing, like gasping for air.

Carefully, Anderson approached this odd noise, coming from behind one array of small coniferous trees. His hand gripped firmly to a dagger he'd unsheathed from his belt, he peered around with his good arm outstretched, expecting something big to pounce on him. But before he had full vision of the creature, he saw not what, but who it was. He froze in place, lowering his weapon.

Dreiman, his father, was on his knees, heaving heavy breaths in and out of his lungs. Fright came over Anderson, as he did not recognize this man. It seemed for the first time in his life, he'd caught the great hunter in a moment of vulnerability.

Dreiman then drew in a sharp breath and turned his head away from Anderson, sensing his presence.

"What are you doing?" the man asked in a grave voice. "Do you need something, or have you wandered here by chance?"

Anderson said nothing. At first. Then, he mumbled, "by chance."

"Speak louder!" demanded Dreiman.

"By chance," repeated Anderson with more clarity.

Dreiman exhaled fiercely through his nose, and dug his fingers into the ground beneath him. Anderson noticed that when he did this, a liquid seemed into the revolved dirt. Dark water. Then he noticed the scent. Iron, and something else.

Avoiding all noise, he craned his head forward to see what his father was kneeling before. It was as he thought. Blood and something else. It looked like soft skin, perhaps torn from the belly of an animal. After he saw the white ooze leaking out of a skin bag, he made out a pink animal lying within. The animal was puppy-like, but very deformed. A wolf fetus.

In the same moment Anderson saw what he did, Dreiman darted his head around and caught his son peeking. The hunter's eyes were red as if he had been crying, though his clenched teeth would suggest a kind of anger underlay his emotions.

Anderson bolted away into the woods, leaving his father alone with the carnage. He did not think he was going to head back to camp after that. Instead he convinced himself he would spend the night out there, safer with any forest beasts than what he thought to be his deranged father. But it couldn't be. Where was the she-wolf's corpse? Where was the blood on Dreiman's clothes? After the sky turned black and the frost was biting, Anderson decided to return to camp, following the sound of banter and fire crackle as his guide.

When he walked up, everyone got quiet. Linus looked at him with a pile of wood by his feet, but Anderman didn't care for Linus. He fixed his gaze on Dreiman and Dreiman fixed his gaze on him. His expression seemed aloof. Though suspicion flocked his heart, Anderson sat very near to his father. The others took Dreiman looking away from Anderson as a sign to ignore whatever had happened. Lorno was the only one to glimpse back at them a few more times as conversations flared up again.

"I saw it. The-"

"I know you saw it," said Dreiman. His voice was cold as stone.

Anderson waited for him to elaborate on his words, but he didn't. 

"What did it?" he asked after a long pause.

"Not yet."

Was that supposed to serve as a response? Did he know more than he let on or did he need more time to find out? Silence haunted them until they fell asleep, and in their dreams Anderson would visit his father again, helplessly seeking answers for all the strange things that had occurred the past few days.

<> <> <>

Lorno was delegated to sharpening one of the axes after the food distribution incident. It was then that he saw Dreiman return. He stopped scrapping the stone against the blade to decipher the tall hunter's body language with more focus.

Stoic as ever, his stride was as strong as it was smooth, but his head was tilted down for once. He'd never questioned his step before, so he must instead be in a pondering mood. The knees of his pants, he also noticed, were darkly stained. He'd been down in the mud, but not from tripping. Dreiman never tripped. But he'd been down in the mud. Lorno's thoughts went to the sons.

"Did you see Anderson?" he asked, moving his head up. "He'd gone that way, too,"

Dreiman glanced at him. The weight of his glare heavy. "He'll be back," was his complete answer.

As he scooped the finished ax Delbur had dealt with earlier, Lorno restarted grinding his own.

"And your other boy. No trace of him at all?"

Dreiman picked a twig off his bag that had fallen off a tree. Testing his ax against it, he let the blade shear through with relative ease. It folded at the end rather than cutting straight across, revealing that the axe was not yet at its sharpest point.

"I've never seen a hunter do something like that," added Linus, listening in on their conversation about Erst. "Running off on his own as nighttime nears. He's either very bold or very stupid."

"Careful," hissed Delvar, tying off the last of the ration bags. "That's the lead's son you're speaking of."

"He knows what he's doing," said Dreiman calmly, running a stone against the ax blade on his lap. Delbur, who stood by a birch tree, was displeased with this. He felt he'd done a good enough job at sharpening it. Evidently, not good enough for Dreiman.

"You must understand my concern," pressed Lorno, putting down his sharpening stone. "Though I do not know your family quite well at all, the impression I get is that Erst and Anderson are still boys."

A sharp screech came suddenly from Dreiman's ax, then silence. "They are more men than boys." 

Dreiman stood in his place and began: "Listen, all of you," his eyes stopped on each of them as they circled the group. "I don't know most of you as well as I should, nor do you know me as much as you'd desire. Out here, that does not matter. Out here, all that matters is following the rules you agreed to on January 18." He stuck up his fingers, starting with the thumb. "Trust is what is going to get us through each night. Obedience is what's going to get us game, and discipline is what's going to get us home to our warm hearth and lonely wives." He put down his hand. "I repeat myself for your own sake, because if you do not follow these rules, I cannot promise you your lives. Much less so money."

Without any indication he'd finished speaking. Each member present offered a mix of small nods and hushed yesses to Dreiman. Lorno read closely into Dreiman's character. There was so much for him to see, yet so little that he could properly understand. Eventually, he united in the accord, as he had the night he'd signed the papers to the hunt.

"Well, is dinner ready?" asked Linus. Delbur perked up at the thought.

<> <> <>

Erst looked up. In the twilight of the night, the stars above appeared like shining fruits, hanging on the branches over his head. Against them rose his breath, turned to mist by the freezing temperature. He ignored both his sight and sensations. All his focus was on listening. Listening to the lone cricket's chirp, the distant river roll, the mountain stones slip down its surface, its snow melting. The far off flickering of flames, and the fidgeting of sleeping men. The clouds that creep across the sky, the shooting star that flies into nothing. A whimsy whisper on the wind.

"Wolf-blood..."

His mind followed the sound, traversing the woodland landscape. In a flash, he darted in a certain direction, leaping between log and boulder and dodging fern and bush and tree...

"Here..."

 He went so far so fast that the blowing of his lungs hurt him. He stopped again to listen, looking up at the stars while he did this.

"Where are you?" he whispered into the air.

He didn't know how, but it was as if the mouth of the voice was by his ear.

"Hidding...inside..."

Rising steadily, he made his way up a slope that granted him vision of the surrounding area. Other slopes rose and fell like black waves in the night, restricting how far he could see. But there was a pile-up of great stones that seemed familiar. They reposed against a taller hill, under which he knew was a cave, thought it was obstructed from his view by a portion of the pile up that had slid down over the winter. It was a wolf's cave, May of last year. But there are worse things out here than wolves. The voice, for instance, which Erst was so keen on finding.

Erst descended the slope and approached the cave. No light provided vision other than celestial light. No sound emerged from within the cave beside the echo of his own footsteps. Suddenly, the voice...

"You found me."

Dropping down from above was the woman from the river. Like a white owl she fell -- dagger in hand -- and smote down on Erst's wolf mask.

The young hunter rolled out of the way, and readied his bow to fire at her.

With a fierce swiftness, she dashed to the side and dodged his arrow-shot that landed somewhere beyond. He readied another arrow, but before he could unleash it on her, she was on top of him.

Her dagger -- crescent-like and white as bone -- threatened to pierce his nose. But it was held back by the shaft of his bow. Cleverly, he took the arrow he'd prepared on his bow, and used the tip to prick her sternum.

With a screech she relented, and in a follow up act, Erst grabbed hold of the dagger and twisted it out of her grip. 

She retaliated by swinging her long and crude nails at his face, striking the wolf mask instead. 

Finally, Erst seized her arm and knotted his legs around hers so she could move no longer, regardless of her tireless efforts.

"I've beaten you!" he barked at her. "We're done!"

She panted heavily. Her breath emitting an odor of earth and blood. Then, when she steadied her gaze on him and listened to his words, she hissed furiously, and afterwards submitted.

"Again," she said. She scanned him. Felt his rising chest and restraining grip tying her legs in a knot. "You're... stronger. Bigger." She smiled a wild, mystifying smile. 

He watched her do this with strange allure. Up close, her face was visibly stained with mud and sparse scratches. By the creases of her forehead and cheeks, he could tell she was older. Closer to being middle aged than her prime. But her beauty was remarkable. Almost surreal.

She looked at his lips, surrounded by stubble. He smiled coquettishly.

Then vigorously, she lunged forward and kissed him. He let go of her arm and rolled her beneath him. Slowly, they rose and moved with towards the depths of the cave, where no light shone. As they gave into each other, he felt her skin -- cold as death; but her flesh was ever so tender. They sweat with passion, even in the chill, and carried on until they tired from the exertion. Once at ease, they bundled themselves in their capes and clothes, holding one another very closely. Her coarse nails clung onto his back as a child to its parent. He did not let the discomfort bother him.

"It's even better than it was last year," muttered Erst. "Do you remember how it was?"

She was quiet, taking a moment to ponder. Then, in her gravely voice, she said, "Hot... and cold."

"Yes, I wasn't sure what you were going to do with me then. You had come loose from your bounds and scaped into the snowy tempest. I followed you and saw as a tree collapsed on your back. There you were pinned, unconscious. The others close behind. I couldn't help but be dazzled by your beauty. So I dragged you out and took you to this cave, wherein you woke. And that's when we first fought. You didn't have your dagger then -- you'd lost it in the snow. That's not to say you didn't put up quite the fight! (She snickered at this detail.) You had me by the throat and I didn't know what you were going to do with me then. But when I embraced you, you gave into your emotions and embraced me back. I'll never forget that night."

"Never forget," she repeated.

Erst felt her nails dig into his back with more force. He winced, then heard her speak.

"You left while I sleep. The others came with fire. Burn me. Hit me. You didn't stay; didn't protect me."

On the verge of drawing blood, Erst rolled away from her grip. 

  ...

<> <> <>

In the morning there was a thin layer of snow carpeting the trees, the boulders, and the cloaks that covered their sleeping bodies. There had been a silent snowfall throughout a stretch of the night, impossible to notice with one's eyes closed, and when they had awoke, they felt a particularly cold and damp sensation on everything they wore, as well as a blanketing weight restraining their movements.

Delvar said, "Disgusting luck that this would happen tonight and not last night, when we slept in the grotto!"

Delbur replied to him with a burr and a congested cough.

"And of course, now he's gotten sick!" Dervar added.

"Anyone else get sick?" asked Lorno concernedly.

He turned his head to see Anderson, whose mat was not next to Dreiman as it had been last night. Searching, he finally spotted him, dug under a low conifer tree. He seemed untouched by the snowfall, the brunt of it taken by the branches.

Begrudgingly, Dreiman -- whose face and beard were snowed white -- walked over to Anderson, who was, or pretended to be, still asleep, and violently dragged him out into the open, rolling him over the snowy ground.

"Why did you hide and not tell anyone else about the snow?!" yelled Dreiman. "Did you not think of the consequences?"

Anderson tried to twist his good arm out of his father's grip, but did so in vain. His face showed bitter resentment and distaste.

"Speak, boy!" Dreiman demanded.

"I was cold and hid before there was any snow!" he shouted back. "If I'd gone when it started, of course I would have said something. I'm not an idiot!"

Dreiman cast Anderson aside and walked away, undoing his cape and fluttering the snow off it. After idling for a moment, the rest of the hunters followed his lead and removed the snow from their clothes, cloaks, caps, and packs.

Looking at Anderson, Lorno felt pity for the unnecessary discourse between him and his father. He didn't understand the ranking-system they carried so casually that made void empathy for each other, particularly towards the young man. Dreiman was a seasoned hunter, and much more so a man. But it seemed to Lorno that although it made him more knowledgeable than the rest, it did not, perhaps, make him wiser. That was his presumption anyway.

As Lorno glared at the tall hunter, he noticed something that he almost immediately dismissed. He looked down at his snow covered items, and those of his fellows, and he noticed that their interior clothes, as opposed to Dreimans, had been deeply soaked. His, however, were not. Whilst the rest quickly stripped themselves of everything they wore, he kept his shirt and pants. They weren't wet.

Dangerous speculation coursed through his mind, and he began to wonder what peculiar happenings might have occurred as they slept, beside the boy Anderson slipping under a tree. 

These thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the grumblings of said-boy, who was wrestling with his luggage, trying to press it all into his pack in a way that didn't quite work.

"What's with your grumblings?" asked Lorno, walking over to him. "Did your mother never show you how to fold clothes?"

"Shut up, Lorno!" Anderson snapped. "Why do you care so much about my life? Don't you have your own to worry about, or did you come on this hunt because it isn't working out for you?"

Lorno bit his tongue, avoiding a rash response to the twelve year old. "I apologize, I was only trying to help."

Anderson grabbed a handful of snow and threw it at Lorno's face. "Go help someone who asked for it, and leave me be!"

Slowly, he turned away, watching over his shoulder as Anderson dug out everything he'd forced into his pack and tried to place it in again more neatly. Before long, Linus interrupted Lorno, back at his stuff.

"You know, you have to stop meddling in Dreiman and his sons' business," he whispered. "This isn't a family trip. We're here to hunt, and nothing else matters."

Lorno downcast his gaze, for only a moment, then raised it saying, "I'm not so sure, Linus. From my old profession, I've learned a thing or two about people. And the nature of these folks seems important for us to take account of, for our own best interest and well being."

Linus put a hand on Lorno's shoulder and said in response. "I've also learned something from my experience: 'Mind your own business.' Gather your things. You're wasting time."

From the other side of camp, Delbur kept coughing nastily. His nose was runny, his voice congested, and every now and then, he would hit his fist against his chest, fighting away some internal discomfort. Delvar asked him how he felt, and Delbur said, "Nothing, I'll be fine."

Later that afternoon, as they cleared the current stretch of forest and entered a plain with sparse cover, Delbur felt a wicked discomfort in his chest, and deliriously fumbled over his step, to the point where he collapsed on the ground without consciousness.

"Whatever he's got, it's not nothing!" cried out Delvar to the rest of them.

"Load up with as much as you can from the stretcher, and place Delbur on it," said Dreiman. "Not too far ahead is a cottage we can find warmth and freedom from our wet clothes in."

Quickly, they did as commanded, and with a third step to every two, they hastened to a pond at the coast of which was, indeed, a cabin. To their surprise, it was minimal in size, but wondrously curious on the exterior. Its color seemed to be a permanent blue that seemingly had clung to it from the winter hues. An oval building made of thousands of pillow-sized stones, with diamond-shaped windows zigzagging around its whole circumference, and a wide rectangular entrance, held shut by a long iron bar to keep any creature without disposable thumbs on the outside. It did not seem to have a chimney, but instead a louver in the roof to let light in and smoke out. Once they rounded the pond, they removed the iron bar from the door, and pushed it in with a deafening creak. Simultaneously, a gang of racoons dashed out between their feet, and vanished into the exterior.

"Grab that table there," said Dreiman, "and place Delbur on it."

As Linus and Delvar did this, Dreiman and Anderson took logs that were piled up in a corner, and set them in the open hearth, afterwards setting light to them and bringing into the cool blue room a warm amber flare.

After they had all settled, Linus spoke up angrily. "Another day is lost! We were supposed to have hunted something by now, but it's been mishap after mishap!"

Delvar was not in a plucky mood either, and added, "And were is all the game, anyway? I was told we would have the best chance to find something luxurious by coming out on this expedition, but so far its been trees, trees, and more trees!"

Linus strode up to Dreiman with his chest puffed up. "We need evidence that you're keeping up your end of the contract, or else we're better off going back home now than later empty handed, or worse!"

Dreiman seized Linus' finger as he thrust it up at his nose. Twisting it, he pulled Linus to the front door and with his other hand threw him out on the porch.

"You wanna hunt?" he said menacingly. "Go hunt!"

"Wait!" Linus exclaimed. The door was shut in his face.

They all rushed to open the door for him as he jostled at it from the outside, but Dreiman snarled at them, keeping them at bay. "Whoever opens this door will go out with him!"

Delvar, whimpering, asked hesitantly: "Without arms?"

Dreiman's scowl was answer enough. 

<> <> <>

This was only supposed to be a hunt. They all thought to themselves.

Linus' tired rapping at the door pulled on everyone's heartstrings.

"Let me in," he moaned incessantly. "Please, it's so cold."

Bundled up around the fire and sitting down shoulder to shoulder -- except for Delvar and Lorno, who sat at the head and feet of poor Delbur -- they got bitter enjoyment from drying off their bodies. Anderson's gaze was fixed on the entrance. It looked as if the knocking was affecting him the most.

It came as no surprise to him to see Dreiman at ease, with his head resting back against the wall, and his eyes closed in an attempt to catch dreams. If he were truly able, that would be something truly frightening for the young hunter to consider -- himself being that hard man's son. What if he was to become the same as his father some day? Is it something he still desired? He thought back to that phrase: "Be more, be more." What "more" could he be? More stoic? More strong? More cold? More kind? His eyes returned to the door. The rapping fainting with every minute that passed.

Eventually, there was no more rapping coming from the door, but a soft moan, pulsating out of Linus' mouth. Words could not be made out, but they knew what he was trying to say. Please. Although everyone thought he'd been dealt enough punishment for his subordination, none dared disrupt Dreiman's stillness, afraid they'd be next to be ejected. That is until they heard a strange growl coming in through the louver.

Grrr... Grrr... Grah!

All of them, even Dreiman, gazed up at the grey sky showing through louver. Though they could not see anything, they listened attentively to what was about to unfold.

"A wild beast!" cried Linus, renewed with adrenaline. He banged on the door harder and faster than before, and caused everyone inside to jump to their feet. 

"Stay back! Stay back!" he banged again, yelling: "Help! Help! Gyah!"

A great thud rattled the door to its hinges. Gnarling sounds overlapped the sounds of slashing and ripping. At once, Dreiman got up, and casting the entrace block away, he threw it open.

Between his legs, the rest could see, Linus on the ground, lying still. Beneath him was a stream of red. A gash on his back was neatly made.

As all of them ran to assist the wounded man, Dreiman leaped over him and ran away after the culprit, unsheathing a seax from his side.

"What is he doing?!" exclaimed Delvar.

"Forget Dreiman, he's as mad as they come!" said Lorno. "Help me bring Linus by the fire."

Together they worked relentlessly to mend Linus' wound. It was far worse than they had first perceived. Whatever had made the cut on his back was not animal. It was one long cleave from a bladed weapon, not a tear from claws. With five slippery hands pulling desperately at the flaps of his open skin, and another pushing a needle forcibly through the flesh, they argued and cursed for a desperate handful of minutes before Linus met his demise. At seven minutes past, they let go of the skin -- half sewn together -- and left Linus, with most of his blood covering the den's floor, to die.

As Delbur cried from where he lay on the table, Delvar ran outside to vomit in the lake. Lorno had his blood-soaked hands digging through his hair for the torment that invaded it, and only recognized Dreiman standing over the body when he saw Anderson gazing up.

"Where'd you go?"

Dreiman looked seriously at Lorno. "I couldn't catch the beast that did this."

"The beast? No beast did this! Someone killed Linus!"

"It was the witch..." said Delbur, half-delirious. "The witch did this... I'm sure of it."

Lorno rushed at Dreiman, covering him in blood. 

"Why did you really bring us out here, Dreiman? There's no animals anywhere to hunt, and most of us don't know who each other are. Not to mention the privacy agreement of your contract. What are we really doing out here? What are we looking for in these godforsaken woods?"

Dreiman said nothing. Instead he placed his hands on Lorno's until he let go.

"You're right. I did not tell you everything. It's time I do. But first, let's bury the body."

Lorno gritted his teeth, but agreed that that they must do. Together they bundled Linus tightly in his cape, and lifted him outside. Dreiman told Lorno they could simply leave him there and no animal would take him. There were none, as they'd noticed. Back inside, after they had soaked up most of the blood from the floor and drained it in the lake, he began to explain everything that was going on.

"It's true that we're out here to capture the freshest prey of the season. About that I did not lie. There's something we must do first before that."

All glared carefully at him as he spoke, taking in every word with deep interest and thorough discernment.

"The myth of the witch is real, but not quite like Linus had told it. For one, there was no competitive spirit between a hunter's son and the witch. There was only the witch and the hunters. She had always been here, prowling the forests with her bow and dagger. In an endless thirst for blood, she hunted, year after year, every creature -- predator and prey -- to drain them of their lifeblood and infuse it into herself. Without doing this, she would surely perish, and year after year, a band of hunters like ourselves, would need to set out before the spring to capture the witch and trap her somewhere that she could no longer hunt. For the past fifteen years, me and Hoplan have come out into these woods with this task in mind.

• Just this year tho? 

• Do you remember the migration of the moon? How that spring, no animals could be found in the forest, and it was attributed to the darkness cast by the black moon? It's not true. Myself and others at the time propagated that story to deceive people into thinking that's what happened.

There was, however, an apparent need to dispel her from these woods. 

{"One of the hunters had a son, who was riddled with bloodlust and ambition. For this reason, his first year of hunting, he was prepared to bring the largest and the most game out of all the other hunters present, without the assistance of anyone or anything. But to his disappointment, the witch huntress had him beat on this endeavor, and nothing he did would earn him greater recognition than she. So one night, whilst all the other hunters were asleep, he stole into her cabin -- long since burned down as the magic of that place was too intense for anyone else to dwell in -- and killed her, stabbing a deer horn through her gut. In that exact moment, the witch's body pulverized, and none was left the wiser for what had happened."}

Why did you leave him out there, knowing she was real?

Why not tell us earlier?

• They hear Linus outside the door, banging on it with the metal rod, waiting to be let back in. Eventually he is, and to raise morale, Dreiman agrees to let the hunters have their hunt.

• This is all plan of Dreiman, to push their limits so they'll be more anxious and reckless, then he can start using them to draw out the Witch.

• Lorno used to be a police man.

• Contrast the manipulative and abusive relationship between Erst and Vegra with Lorno's relationship back home.

_____________________________________________

They sweat with passion, even in the chill, and carried on until they were interrupted by an innocent snake that had slithered itself between their feet. She ignored it at first, but Erst was afraid of snakes, and kicked it away frantically. Before it could get away, she took, and crushed it against the rock floor.

"Fear is weak," she said as she rose. A moment later, she had taken up her swaddling cloth and wrapped herself in it. The next thing Erst saw was her, entering the moonlight at the mouth of the cave. Her red hair looking purple in the dark of the moon, but her body seemingly looking brighter than it had in the sunlight.

_____________________________________________

He listened, for a moment, then his mind returned to him, as a sharp sensation crossed his neck. Tilting his head down carefully, he felt with certainty that there was a blade biting his throat.

"You've got me," he said in a normal voice. 

Very slowly he placed his bow on the ground next to him, then rotated his body towards whom he suspected to be his captor. As her expressionless face and burning hair came into view, he smiled coquettishly.

"You're alone," she remarked with her gravely voice.

"I am that." He couldn't help but scan her up and down. 'Surreal' is the first word he envisioned.

For a moment, he felt the blade singe blood out of him, but only through a sliver. He watched as the woman then took the drops that had run onto her crescent bone dagger, and ran her tongue over it.

"Wolf-blood."

Suddenly, she dropped her dagger, and lunged towards him with a kiss. He could taste his own blood in her mouth, along with an earthy taste on her lips.

Gently, he dropped to his knees, and rolled onto his back, allowing the forest maiden to have her way with him. Her skin was cold as death, but more tender flesh he'd never felt pressed against his. They sweat with passion, even in the chill, and carried on until they were interrupted by an innocent snake that had slithered itself between their feet. She ignored it at first, but Erst was afraid of snakes, and kicked it away frantically. Before it could get away, she took her dagger and dug it straight through the critter, clipping it against the floor.

"Fear is weak," she said as she rose. All over she was covered in pine needles, dead leaves, and dirt. None of it did she care to brush off.

Sitting up on his bare butt, he watched her with excitement and anxiety, as she swaddled herself in long white linen. Working with one arm, her proficiency was impressive. He noticed, as she did this, that across her belly was the scar of a curved gash. 

Moving closer to her and reaching out his hand, he asked her, "What is this?"

Inadvertedly, she leaped backwards, reaching for her dagger. "Stay away!" she howled, and swinged her weapon, slicing the tip of his finger.

"What did you do!" he shouted. Blood flowed freely down his hand. Instinctively, he snatched his cloak, and smothered his finger with it.

As he did this, the woman turned and fled into the forest. "Stay away!"

<> <> <>

• Conflicting plots: Are they there to eliminate Vegra so they can freely hunt, or are they there to bury Vegra? > Both. Dreiman brings in a new crowd of hunters with the mandatory condition that they never speak on the situation, in order to capture Vegra and make way for the freshest hunt. The only problem is that Vegra is a challenge for them, and their lives are endangered by her. They should be able to manage her no problem, but when Erst secretly starts helping Vegra, the others start inquiring as to what the relation is. They soon discover that the reason Erst is on her side is because Dreiman and him did this last year -- this wasn't a one-off. After, they discover that it wasn't a one, not because Dreiman feels compelled to secure the land, but because he's hidding a dark secret. When Erst uncovers the secret, and what he's been doing with Vegra who is his older sister, he turns on Dreiman and kills him. Then Vegra turns on him and kills him. Finally, Anderson slays Vegra and puts her in the ground, but Lorno has learned enough to know that without killing the last of the Dreimans, she will come back again. To end this curse, he kills Anderson, and leaves them and the curse in the ground forever.

  • Remember. Writing is rewriting. Continue where you can with the new story in mind, then after you're done this version, go back and edit the rest.

• Erst and Vegra have intimate relations, but she believes him to be wolf-blood, because he carries a disguise with him that makes him look as such. If she realized that he was man-blood, she would become violent against him. And if she knew he was Dreiman's blood, he would surely face her wrath.

• Central questions: Who is the wolf-man? Could it be Dreiman, Erst, Hoplan, or someone else? - I know it's Erst, but the rest don't know it for sure.

• There is no correlation between Anderson's dream and what Tanker actually saw, because what he saw was the wolf-fur that Erst had, whilst Anderson dreamed that he saw the witch from Linus' story. - Dreams don't carry the whole truth.

• Erst frightens Vegra away by showing his human face at the river. After he pursues her and finds her as the wolf-character, then seduces her as such. Later, when she tastes his blood and recognizes that it's man-blood, does she rage at him and try to kill him. He narrowly makes it out alive. This triggers the peak of the hunt, and the unveiling of the mystery of their "true" purpose there - to hunt the witch. Only at the end is it revealed who the witch was when she spares some of the men, but not Dreiman and his eldest son. She despises men, but she's got a vendetta against Dreiman in particular. - Hoplan may have been naive to this the entire time he's known Dreiman, until the end. Only then does he realize how the curse must end. In the aftermath of the story, even though Anderson survived, Hoplan chooses to kill him to finish the curse. Lorno is the one who tells their tale - the ultimate character-narrator of the story.

• What's the purpose of a romance? And if there is a romance in continuation to the previous year, how would this cause Erst to turn against Dreiman or the others? - This would explain why he might have wanted to harm Tanker in the beginning.

• Dreiman was aloof 

• What if they're not there to hunt, but to find Vegra? Every year they have to capture and bury her, so the other hunters will be able to obtain their game in peace, and so they will never find out the dark truth behind Dreiman and his family.

• He takes a selection of men with him. All of them strangers from out of town. Then he has them killed off one by one to cover the evidence. (Is this too much?)

• Erst is the one who threatened Tanker in the beginning? - How would he know that he'd become mute? Why get rid of him so soon? - Maybe Tanker saw something in his bag that exposed Erst's identity. Follow the story and see what happens.

• Dreiman and Erst wish to dispose themselves of the other hunters. They use the myth of the Witch Huntress (running a long con against them, like Sawyer does in the show), to make them flee before they go too deep into her territory. Their intention is not to kill the other hunters, but make them flee. Why take them up in the first place?

• Is Hoplan in on it? Is he unaware?

• Does this mean Erst knows about her too? - Yes

• What if she doesn't hunt, but destroy the wombs of the many female animals in the forest.

• Erst investigates the scene.

• The two boys are on their way to the ruin again, but find that the raft has been restored upon their arrival. They do not know who or what did this, but whilst Anderson in ready to go back and tell the others, Erst suggests that he go across or wait for him there.

• When are you going to introduce the maiden?

• Erst is the one who becomes attracted to the maiden.

• Perhaps tease it at first.

Anderson looked up at Erst, scurrying up with ease. He was only three years older, yet he appeared much older than that. In looks, and in demeanor. (Why am I talking about this?:) His green cape was bound tightly beneath his pack and bow

She slept under my eaves, wrapped in a thick woolen coat, with her head resting on one of my exposed roots. I tried not to shed my needles on her, but the wind shook me senseless and I could not help but sprinkle them over her little body. It woke her a few times when I did that, but it was not a night for sleeping regardless. I recall how loudly her stomach would grumble, and with what force she would shiver and shake. I pitied her, but could do nothing to make her warm or feed her. I was a coniferous after all; the proudest in the Niddham hamlet, perhaps, enthroned in the midst of the village, but helpless in all necessary regards to this poor child, to whom not even the ravens or crows paid attention that wintry night. It was perhaps the most lamentable of cases that above all the lords and dames and woodsmen and maids, it would be that wicked maid -- the one with bones on her ears and leaves in her hair, that would approach the child beneath my eaves, whispering in so few words: "Come with me." The girl would not sleep atop my root-feet again. With that I should be pleased. But the fate that came to her was so much worse than sleeping in the streets, on wintry eves like that lonesome night, when she came with no one and nothing, but left, next in line, to be the cauldron maid.