The Hunt
Monsters
A warrior. A hunter. A man who feared nothing. He had always known death would come for him; likely in battle, with blood in his mouth and steel in his hands. But fear? No. That had never touched him. Death comes for all men. Being so often in her presence made him ignorant to death.
He still led the charge into danger. But something inside him had shifted. He feels it. Not fear, exactly. Something colder. A shadow beneath the skin.
The Hunt
After another battle he survived, he was wandering through a dark forest. Trees hung like black skeletons in a pale, cloudy sky, where the sun could not be seen. The wind didn’t blow, but there was movement through the leaves.
He followed the scent of decay to a ruined village at the forest’s edge. Nothing moved. No light, no sound. A silence he knows very well. The kind of silence only death leaves behind.
He had been here before. The villagers once fed him and his men, shared bread, salt, fire.
Something took advantage of the men being in the battle, attacked the unprotected village where just women, and men too old or too young to hold a sword were.
At the end of the village, a collapsed mine gaped like a wound, the current making the air pour out of it.
He smelled it before he saw it. The creature. The other monster responsible for another massacre.
“If you kill, you will be killed,” he muttered in anticipation of the confrontation that would surely happen.
He stepped forward, and it came, fast and feral, leaping from the dark. Too quick for an arrow, he met the charge with steel. The beast slammed into his shield, almost knocking him off balance. But he stood his ground. Not surprised, not afraid, calming his breath, he looked at the creature from between his helmeted metal that felt tight on his face. His sword struck, slicing deep into its shoulder. It shrieked, a sharp, broken sound, too close to human.
They circled. The hunter and the hunted. Two monsters.
The creature lunged again, claws sweeping for his legs. He blocked low. His shield dropped just slightly, exposing his shoulder. The beast saw its chance and leapt, straight for his neck.
He met it in mid-air, sword driving into its chest.
The impact knocked them both to the ground. The creature landed hard beside him, gasping, twitching, missing the breath for a last roar. It tried to rise. It didn’t.
Its heart was pierced.
He stood slowly. Without losing sight of the creature, he took two steps to the side, drew his axe, and drove it into its skull, just to be sure.
With effort, he managed to take out the sword from the lifeless body. Then he wiped it on its mangy fur and sat in the dirt beside it, breathing deeply.
“It’s done,” he said while looking around and checking his surroundings.
Later he found shelter not far away from the dead corpse of the creature, at the edge of the village, in a broken house, where only one corner still had a roof. There, he built a small fire and cooked the beast’s heart and liver. Tough meat. Dry. But enough for one man.
He ate. Drank. Slept.
The Dream
As soon as he closed his eyes, he walked through a burning desert.
The sky above him bled red. Wind tore at his cloak. Sand curled around his boots like waves. Ahead, nothing, just desert and heat.
Something shifted underfoot. He looked down.
Half-buried in the sand was his sword. Next to it, his shield.
He knelt. Brushed them off.
Why would he ever leave them behind?
Then he understood.
Only the dead leave their weapons behind.
“If you kill, you will be killed,” he muttered, accepting his fate.
Hi everyone,
I usually write poetry, but every now and then I like to experiment with short fiction.
If you have any thoughts or feedback, I’d really appreciate it, it helps me grow.
Thank you for reading