by Paul G Mann
He needed to hunt; his fresh meat was long gone and grains would not sustain him for long.
Interspersed among the shrubs were vegetable plants in abundance. Cabbage plants were still in season and if he looked he dared say he would find some sprouts, carrots and maybe the last of the native yam but the cabbage would do for now. With a bit of meat it would make a nice meal. Finding a low overhang of rock he made a camp, set a fire ready to light on his return and with bow and arrow he set out to hunt. An hour later he returned with a brace of rabbit and three big fat pigeons. He lit his fire, skinned and cleaned the rabbits with a practiced ease, placed them on a makeshift spit and sat back to let them roast while he plucked the three small birds, gutted and cleaned them ready for cooking while he ate his rabbit and raw cabbage.
Living and travelling alone meant he had a lot of thinking time and this journey proved no different as his mind began to wander and daydream about hunting the Hunki. They usually came in their hundreds turning everyone out of the rancid tunnels and hovels people lived in; anyone refusing to get out was killed on the spot; once outside they were harried and chased until the hunters could bring them down. Those killed had their heads removed as a trophy; the bodies butchered and roasted over open fires while the Hunki celebrated in what Fred thought was their version of dancing and singing around a campfire. It was a hideous sight, one Fred wished never to see again, but this feasting was when the Hunki were at their weakest.
He had seen this celebration a number of times, albeit from a distance, but he had noticed that while they celebrated their weapons were left in their flying craft and a concerted attack could be made; if only he could get a group of people together willing to take the Hunki on. The Hunki were cowards, Fred knew this with all his heart. The very fact they forced people to live the way they do and hunted them without allowing them weapons other than a useless club or stick to defend themselves made them cowards, worse than cowards in Fred’s opinion, and as such one good revenge attack where the Hunki were killed may prove the salvation of people here. The trouble with his hypothesis was he couldn’t get anyone other than himself brave or stupid enough to do anything more than run from the Hunki when they came.
He had often thought of tackling them on his own. In the woods he wouldn’t hesitate, but the Hunki knew this. Their weapons were good, better than anything Fred had ever seen. They could hit a target over a mile away while even Fred’s own powerful bow could only fire with any degree of accuracy at about 180 to 200 yards. His weapon was also subject to wind and weather conditions, the Hunki’s weren’t and unless he could catch them within two hundred yards of the tree line, any solo attack by him was tantamount to suicide, not something he had contemplated of late. It was a scenario he pondered and dreamed about often, now as he fell asleep was no different; ‘one day,’ he thought as he drifted off, ‘the Hunki would pay for what they did.’ It was a comforting thought.
Two
It was mid afternoon the following day; as he picked his way through the sparse shrubbery his senses came on full alert. Someone or something was either following him or stalking him. The change in bird song and lack of scurrying sounds behind him changed alerting his keen senses to the possible danger; animals wary of his presence moved even further to safety once he passed scurrying away from whatever or whoever was behind and following him.
A noise, the snapping of a twig off to his left finally alerted him to the direction his follower was. He couldn’t smell them, whoever or whatever had made the noise was downwind of him and any sudden move towards his bow would alert whoever had made the noise that he was now aware of them and probably provoke an attack before he was ready. Ten yards ahead of him a native tree, an old one at that with huge trunk meant he had to change his course to pass it. The easiest path was to the left that being the downhill side of the tree. Instead he made his way to the right, shucking his pack as soon as the tree gave him cover he plucked an arrow from his quiver and knocked it in the bow before quickly scanning the general area the noise had come from.
It took less than a second for his hunters’ eye to see what made the noise and stalked him. It was human and carried a cutlass, a blow from which could slice a man near in half. His adversary if adversary he was, knew immediately he had been discovered uttering a curse before shouting in what was obviously a woman’s voice
‘If you don’t clear off and leave me alone I’ll kill you.’
Taken by surprise at the gender of his ‘foe’ he shouted back with more than a hint of surprise in his own voice ‘Excuse me lady, but you’re the one creeping about following me.’
‘I am not following you!’ the indignant reply came. ‘I’m just making sure you clear the area and leave me alone.’
‘Once I know that cutlass is not going to be buried in my back, you have my assurances I am doing nothing more than just passing through,’ Fred replied. ‘I mean you no harm as long as you mean no harm to me.’
‘Heard it all before,’ she shouted. ‘Just leave this place and no harm will come to you either.’
It was getting late, ideally Fred had wanted to get another mile or two under his feet before making camp for the night, but this situation began to intrigue him. What was a woman doing out here on her own? It was miles from any town or village and lone women were a rarity no matter where you went as the Hunki hunters preferred the softer less sinewy flesh of the female; besides women were not as quick as men and easily brought down by the Hunki weapons. Unfortunately for the women, it was they who usually ended up butchered and eaten; their flesh not as muscled as men probably made for finer dining, males made for a better trophy. He quickly made up his mind and threw pack and bow out from behind the tree before stepping out from its shelter.
‘I don’t care what you have heard before,’ he said in a voice just audible enough to carry to the woman, ‘but when I say I mean you no harm you can believe it. To prove it I ask if you will join me for a meal of game bird and rabbit. I might even have half a quart of Haroldstown’s best ale if you want it.’
Not waiting for a reply he began to quickly pull the items he wanted out of his pack and with a well practiced and experienced eye gathered some dried twigs to begin a fire. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said disbelief in her voice evident as she slowly walked towards him, cutlass extended in front of her. ‘I tell you to go and you make a campfire, I’ve a good mind to cut the ears from your head and feed them to the next Ripper that wanders through here.’
‘Talking of which,’ he replied ignoring her words and the dangerously wavering cutlass. ‘I have a couple of Ripper pelts in my pack if you want them.’
‘And why would any sane person want Ripper pelts?’ she asked as the cutlass blade began to make him nervous the way she was holding it and letting it swing ever so closer to him.
‘To scare other Rippers away,’ he answered before menacingly stating, ‘if that cutlass comes any closer I’m going to have to take it from you.’
Her laugh was interrupted as Fred in a blur of motion and speed covered the short distance between them, took the cutlass in his left hand and twirled her around with her back towards him with his right hand before gently pushing her away from him and burying the cutlass point first in the ground. He never uttered a sound, just sat down once more and continued making his fire and preparing the meal as she stood opened mouthed staring at him with incredulous indignation written all over her face. Despite himself, he couldn’t resist a smile.
‘Now,’ he stated looking her in the eye and with his face as expressionless as he could make it he continued, ‘are you going to stand there open mouthed all day or are you going to sit down and join me for a meal?’
She looked nervously at the cutlass, still quivering from the momentum Fred had used to bury it in the ground, then glanced at Fred totally unsure what to do next.
‘If you feel safer with the cutlass in your hand, please bring it with you,’ He said smiling at her, ‘but please don’t wave it about. I get
nervous.’
She never answered, just moved slowly over to where he had built the small fire and sat opposite him. A cursory nod of the head was the only thanks he got for handing over the rear quarters of an already cooked rabbit. He smiled inwardly to himself as he studied his dinner companion. She looked to be in her late twenties or very early thirties with a light brown hair that was almost blonde but not quite. Brown eyes in a thinish face gave an attractive appearance and with a slim figure as was the norm on Newth; she was as his father would say ‘pleasing to the eye.’
She was intelligent, he could see that from the way she looked at him and sat weighing him up in the same manner as he was doing to her; the intelligence behind the eyes balanced and evaluated the information her eyes sent to her brain. She was also brave, brave enough to leave the cutlass where it was and brave enough to stand up to him despite the considerable difference in physical stature between the two of them. She was no more than five foot six while he was over six foot six. She hadn’t been on Newth long; her skin still had a soft look to it while his was hard and tough from years of living under the Newth sun.
‘Tell me,’ he said as he wiped his greasy hands down the
