Hunt

Hunt

I had walked alone in the woods for three days now, and still nothing. The sun was setting and I sat down by some trees and got myself a fire ready. For someone with no experience in the wild I was doing very good if I do say so myself.

I leaned a big stick I found against a tree and through a tarp over it. I placed rocks at the corner of the tarp to stretch it out forming a makeshift tent. The sun was setting and I prepared myself for another night. I sat by the crackling fire and began to eat some prepackaged food from a plastic bag, and drink some prepackaged water, also from a bag. All seemed peaceful.

“Hello,” shouted a voice from behind. I turned around shocked grabbing the rifle I kept slung over my shoulder and spun around landing on my back. I swung my rifle around to where the voice came from. There stood a dirty looking man in what appeared to be his early or mid twenties with long matted brown hair and skin caked in dirt. He wore a camo jacket, a black beanie and ripped up jeans. On his back was a large backpack with a gun of some kind strapped to the right side.

“You a jumpy one, ain’t yah?” he said with a very yellow smile.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Just a man named Willis McCall. Mind if I join you?” he said as he walked around me and sat down next to the fire.

“Get out, you know who I am, you know where you are?” I said.

“The mark on your hand says you a Rowyol, ain’t yah?” he said. I quickly glanced at the tattoo on my left hand. It was the black outline of a crown. All men in my family get that tattoo as a kid.

“You in the middle of ‘Getting Your Big Beast’?” he asked me.

“How do you know about that?” I asked.

“Put the rifle down and we’ll talk,” he said. I reluctantly complied. The Rowyol family has a tradition: at age 18 the men must go out and hunt a giant beast. We call this tradition ‘getting your big beast’. My dad had assured me that the in these woods lived the likes of a monster that was more than good enough to satisfy my rank as a man in the Rowyol family, and he had assured me that my supplies, though crude, would get the job done.

“So how do you know about that?” I asked Willis.

“My family has had men gather info on all the big families, including yours,” he said.

“And what family is that?” I asked him.

“Did yah not hear me? The McCalls,” he said. I instantly remembered that name and it struck fear in me.

“Y-you mean the terrorists?” I said.

“That’s the one, though I guess the name's just Willis now. They don’t let you back in once you run off. As of about 40 to 50 days ago I have been stripped of my last name,” he said. He took off his backpack and laid it on the floor.

“I’m gonna sleep,” he said.

“Oh no you're not. I’m going to shoot you if you don’t leave,” I said.

“Do it, Mr. Rowyol, do it and be a proud man in your family, I don’t care… don't care at all at this point,” he said as he drifted of to sleep. Try as I might I couldn’t shoot a sleeping man, and if he was gonna kill me he would have done it already. It was dark, too dangerous to move in this darkness. So I slept there by the fire next to that Willis, the ex-McCall.

* * *

I woke up the next day to the smell of pork. Willis had cooked us a meal. We sat next to the ashes of the fire and talked.

“I never got your full name,” Willis said.

“It’s Clement Alice Rowyol,” I told him.

“Odd name, I get Clement and Rowyol, but where does Alice come from? Ain’t that a girl’s name?” he said.

“It’s my mother’s. Her name was Alice Clockwork Reejiside before she married my dad. I took it for my middle name after she died,” I told him.

“She must have been a wonderful women for you to do such a thing,” he said.

“She truly was,” I told him. We ate the food Willis had cooked and, I must say, after days of eating slop, it tasted great.

“So what is it you’re hunting for?” Willis asked me.

“Don’t know. All I know is that I must bring home a great beast in order to be a man in the eyes of the Rowyol family. I must hunt a great beast. I don’t know what it is. Could be anything. I just need to find it,” I said.

“And what resides in these woods?” Willis asked me.

“Many things both traditional and mythical,” I said. "You got your standard bears, deers, foxes, wolf, beavers, and other plain animals, and then you have your more odd creatures.”

“Like what?” he asked me.

“We got three legged birds, micro dragons, macro wasps, etc. standard stuff you would find in these hidden forests,” I said.

“Yah got unicorns?”

“What? No. I’d have you know that the only unicorns left alive are in the Rowyol-owned Top Secret Magic Section of the Oakland Zoo down south in California. Been that way since 2002 AD."

“Yah, yah I know, your clan been bragging about that for like 100 years. You got so annoying my pa tried to steal one time--poor drunk got so lost he stole a jackalope and a kangaroo from the San Francisco Zoo.”

“Why? You want to take it’s horn?”

“I hear it can do magic.”

“Yes, you can heal stuff with unicorn horn. How you plan to kill it?”

“With this,” he said as he whipped out a short looking single shot shotgun with a wide barrel.

“Is that a ten gauge?” I asked him.

“Yup,” he said. (For the uninitiated, a ten gauge shoots a really, really, really, really big slug.)

“Unicorns aren’t that big! They’d be no flesh left in solid form after you hit it with that thing.” I told him.

“Don’t need its flesh--just its horn,” he told me.

I laughed at this. As I laughed I saw him look around nervously.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“There’s no noise in these woods.” he said.

“Yah, so what? No one is around.”

“True, but shouldn’t we hear birds and bugs? The only life I have proof of is plants in these woods,” he said.

I paused and realised he was right. Besides plants I had not seen a shred of life in these woods. I hadn’t seen an animal big or small pass by, I hadn’t heard a birdie sing, no bugs had tried to bite me ... nothing. Besides Willis and I, it appeared nothing else lived in these woods.

“This is truly a strange land,” Willis said. We decided to travel together from then on. We marched in solitude for a day and a half, living on rations, till an event of note took place. We found a river about 20 feet across and very very deep. It was slow moving and the water was so clean we could see all the way to the bottom. Looking deep you could see foot-long catfish swimming at the bottom.

“That’s our meal,” said Willis triumphantly as he reached into his bag pulling out a some fishing line and a hook. Using worms he dug up as bait he fished us three big catfish that we ate with great joy. They tasted much better than the prepackaged junk we had been living on. After eating we sat to watch the sunset.

“All we need is a unicorn and I’d be happy,” said Willis. Just then we heard rustling on the other side of the river. From it emerged a small horse like creature with a white pelt red eyes and a single strait white ivory horn growing from its head. It was a unicorn.

“Speak of a Devil and it shall come,” Willis whispered with a wicked smile as he pointed his ten gauge at the creature. The unicorn went over to the water and drank deeply. I looked to Willis expecting a bang any second--but nothing. With a grim smile he put his gun down and watched the animal.

“What’s wrong? You want that horn don’t you?” I asked him.

“It’s too pretty to kill,” he told me. We sat and watched the sunset.

* * *

For the next four days we marched along the river downstream living off catfish, hoping to catch something, but nothing happened. Then on day five we saw the Unicorn again. We had sat down for lunch when out of the woods running towards us came the unicorn, the white fur was covered in blood. In desperation it huddled next to us shaking. The thing was much smaller than one would think, only going up to my hip.

“What the hell did that?!” Willis screamed. Just then we saw its pursuers come from the woods.

“Lamkins--three of them,” I said. Lamkins are a common predator in these strange forests. Think really lanky coyotes with really scary grins. The Lamkins surrounded us snapping and snarling. I had left my rifle leaning against a fallen tree by the river. If I were to run for it the Lamkins would get to me before I had a chance to shoot. They closed in, little by little, snapping and snarling, baring cruel needle like fangs for all to see.

BANG!

A loud shot rang out. In an instant one of the Lamkins' heads was blown to mush, leaving nothing but the sad remains of a neck and mush where it used to be. Blood splattered everywhere, getting on me and the other two Lamkins that ran of into the woods. I turned to see Willis holding his gun. He then immediately turned to the unicorn, got on one knee and started to pet it.

“You okay little fella,” he said, embracing it. “Don’t worry I got you.”

“That ten gauge did work,” I told him.

“Had it since age ten ... still hasn’t let me down,” he told me.

All seemed peaceful. Just then we heard a growl--a gutteral sound that we not only heard but felt. It pierced our ears in such a way that made us cringe back in fear. Willis and I froze up, and the unicorn darted back into the woods. Our blood went cold and stayed cold. We did not sleep that night. We sat back to back, gun in hand, and watched.

* * *

The next day Willis built us a raft, and we went down the river letting the water take us. We did this for seven days before we hit a lake. It was a big lake--huge, I tell you. The water was cleaner than the river, and birds lived in the trees and many fish swam in it. It was a paradise on earth. We camped out by the lake for two days, eating fish. On the third day at around noon we heard the growl again, just as terrifying as before. Then from the woods burst forth a beast I had never seen before. It looked like a large deer, but it had only one antler that grew from its nose and split into two forming a three foot tall T. It ran at us full speed. Our guns weren’t on us; they were on a tarp on the shore about ten feet away.

“Run, Clement!” shouted Willis as we made a mad dash to the weapons. We ran as fast as we could, but the beast was faster. It knocked Willis to the ground and pinned him there with his hooves, trapped. It kept kicking him over and over, growling its cursed scream the entire time. I dove for my rifle, grabbed it, and aimed at the beast, but it was moving to erratically. I couldn’t get a good shot. “Over hear, ya T-nosed bastard!” I screamed. At this the beast stopped trampling Willis and charged me. My hands shook. My heart pounded. The beast got closer and closer. My lungs forced out a scream, then ... BANG! I shot my rifle right between the beasts eyes. It fell dead before me. I ran to Willis.

“You okay?” I asked him.

“ I’d rather die than be killed by a dear with crucifix on its nose,” he cursed. He was bruised and bloodied, but alive somehow.

“How are you still breathing?” I asked him.

“'Cause God is to big of a jerk to let me rest,” he choked. I laughed. It was a miracle! It all went well. I lifted up Willis and walked towards the dead deer.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” I asked him. Filled with joy, I had ‘got my big beast’

“Um, problem,” he said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone bit your deer,” Willis said.

“What?” I gasped. I looked down and saw it was true. A huge chunk of meat was taken out of the side of the beast.

“I’d hate to see the monster that did that.” I said. Just then we heard a growling from the woods. It was low pitched and made the entire world vibrate, filling everything with dread.

“Speak of a Devil and it shall come.” whispered Willis. We turned to the woods and saw a dog--a big one with a wide jaw and powerful legs. Its eyes shown blood red and its teeth were crooked and mangled and yellow. The cursed beast stood taller than most men.

I shook in my boots, for I knew this beast. I had seen it before when I met the Patriarch of the Rowyol.

“Is that?... ” Willis asked.

“Yes the Patriarch’s Hound.” Every one new of the Patriarch’s Hound. It belonged to the leader of the Rowyol family, and they sent it out when they wanted no soul left standing.

“What’s it doing here?” Willis asked.

“It’s for me,” I said.

“What do you mean?” he asked me.

“When the Rowyol family doesn’t like a member they send the Hound to do it, so as to not sully their own hands in the failure's blood. My dad must have deemed me unworthy and thus ordered my execution, marking me as a failure for all time,” I said.

“And yet the McCall's are the bad ones,” Willis remarked. The only way to kill the beast was with magic, and we had none of that.

“You pray?” Willis asked me.

“Rowyols believe we are godly, and as such we do not pray to a higher power and admit ourselves weak,” I responded.

“Well in that case looks like to hell we both go,” he said.

Just then I heard a loud neigh. I looked to my left and saw a large horselike creature. It was a brown horse that stood tall and proud, but it was no normal horse. This one stood taller than even the Patriarch’s Hound, and it had a single large horn growing from its head--a full grown, wild unicorn. The unicorns I had seen at the zoo always looked drab and dirty, never growing taller than above my shoulder, but this beast was more grand and majestic than anything I had ever seen. The unicorn dashed at the hound, head lowered, and ran it through with its horn. The Hound died instantly. Then, from the woods trotted out the little white unicron from before. It walked next to Willis and touched him with his horn. At this all the blood was cleaned off him, and all his wounds and bruises were healed.

“Damn, you really are magic,” Willis said, “and awesome as well. The big unicorn stood next to us and let us pet his mane."

“Did the Rowyol Zoo let you do this?” asked Willis.

“Nope,” I said.

“I’m gonna leave these woods now Mr. Rowyol. Want to join me?” asked Willis.

“Sure, I doubt they would want me back home after they tried to kill me,” I said.

“Alright, Mr. Rowyol,” Willis said.

“Please don’t call me that,” I said.

“Then what do I call you?”

“Call me… Clement Alice Reejiside.”