The Hunt
By Kyle Centers
The morning sun was just rising over the mountains. The fog slowly rose up from the stream,
spreading like a virus throughout the forest. A light, cold breeze swept through the woods, wrapping
its deathlike, icy finger around every tree, every creature, choking them and robbing them of some
of their precious life. Trees lost their leaves, while the few still brave rodents lost their nerve and ran
for cover. Finally, the evil breeze found its adversary -- a hunter. Here it lingered, sending its
deathlike thin fingers down his back, and curling around his legs, giving him frightening chills and
reminding him of the horrors of the coming winter.
The hunter froze in place until the wind gave up and moved away. He knew only too well the
power of the wind. He had been in this forest since he was a small child. He knew the wind could
kill him if it penetrated his reddish-brown coat. Regardless of the dangers, the hunter pressed on.
He hunted a creature few had the courage to hunt. Only the strongest, most cunning, skilled
hunters had ever hunted such a thing, and most of them had disappeared with only a thunderclap to
carry on their legacy. Gaelin had become the best of all the hunters. His people had even given him
the biggest hat, signifying that he was ready for this hunt. He only hoped it was true.
Now that he was in this part of the forest, he was scared. He had heard all the rumors and
tales, and for the first time in his life, he was afraid. He froze with fear at every sound or motion, just
as he had with the wind.
He stood erect, motionless, scanning the forest with his big, brown, eagle-sharp eyes. He had
always relied more on his ears than his eyes for hunting, because he was colorblind. Unfortunately,
his large, acute ears could distinguish nothing, because the forest had not yet settled down from the
wind. He remained this way until every tree stopped swaying, and every leaf completed its journey
to the earth; until the woods stopped moving.
Gaelin had been tracking one of these creatures since early morning. These creatures (so
horrible his people had no name for them) moved in a rather peculiar manner. They seemed to walk
very cautiously sometimes, as if they were trying not to leave any tracks. Sometimes, they would try
not to follow the same path twice. Yet in other places, they seemed to leave virtual trenches in the
leaf bed covering the forest floor. This puzzled Gaelin.
He followed a set of tracks alongside a stream. Near the head of the stream, the tracks
crossed over, and went up a hillside. Taking care not to get wet, Gaelin jumped the stream, and
followed in pursuit. Almost to the top of the mountain, he found a set of deeply imprinted tracks,
indicating that his prey must have stood here for quite some time. The tracks turned left at this point.
Only a small distance further, Gaelin found a pool of blood, and a set of bloody foot prints, made by
one of his own people! The creature’s tracks turned alongside the blood trail, and seemed to follow
in pursuit.
Gaelin’s heart stopped. The realization that these things could be hunting him too made him
want to turn back and run away, but he couldn’t. He was supposed to be the strongest and bravest
of all; what would they think? He clenched his teeth and went on.
Gaelin no longer cared about the hunt. He was running along the blood trail at blinding
speeds. As he ran, he could think of nothing except his unknown companion. He imagined his
companion being surprised by the beast, and narrowly escaping its clutches, with several mortal
wounds; he ran even faster.
He followed the blood trail, almost back to the bottom of the mountain, and out onto a small
ledge, when he heard a thunderclap. He stopped and looked around in confusion. Then he saw the
other person cowering at the base of the ledge, with the monster closing fast. The beast reached its
victim and began cutting it open. The screams of pain and suffering seared Gaelin’s ears as he
helplessly watched the monster cut into its victim’s guts.
The beast calmly pulled out his victim's stomach and intestines, and dropped them on the
ground. As the screams died down, Gaelin came to, with a cold, vengeful, psychotic clarity he had
never known. His mind opened up to an all new animal-like killer instinct, as he looked at the beast.
Suddenly, Gaelin jumped off the ledge.
He gracefully landed, and turned around. He poised for the attack and waited for the thing to
turn around. His vision faded until all he could see was the hated monster. The beast heard Gaelin
land, and slowly turned to see what it was. Gaelin charged.
The beast was surprised to see a second deer charging at him. He pulled out a knife to
defend himself, as Gaelin hit him. Gaelin gorged the man with his razor sharp antlers. The knife flew
out of the man’s hand as Gaelin pinned him to a tree. The deer raked his antlers down the man’s
chest, breaking several ribs, and spilling them on the ground. Then with a violent jerk of the head,
the deer threw the man over his back, flinging blood into the treetops. The man didn’t even have
time to hit the ground, before the deer picked him up again with his antlers. Gaelin began shaking his
head back and forth, ripping and tearing small chunks of flesh and bone from the man. When Gaelin
was thoroughly soaked with blood, he dropped the man.
Gaelin stepped back to look at the man. He saw the tears and uncomprehending terror on
the human’s face. The man began trying to back away, as blood and bits of flesh spewed from his
mouth. Gaelin began to walk away and let the man die slowly, when he saw his dead companion.
He stopped and looked at it for a moment, then he looked back at the pathetic human. He walked
back over to the man. The man began screaming in terror. Gaelin lowered his head, closed his eyes,
and bit the man on the back of the neck, severing the spinal cord. Moments later, the man died.
Comments for Kyle? Email him:sca00356@mail.wvnet.edu