by David Greer
Chapter 2
It edged out on the branch of a tree with its wings spread ready to take flight. Its talons dug into the branch, its legs flexed and it dove into the air. The creature glided effortlessly toward the wide open double-doors. Its yellow eyes narrowed and focused on the doorway. The man had brought in a basket of food and the creature was hungry. It hoped to taste some sweet fruits and hopefully some fresh meat. These people sometimes had cuts of meat perfect for the taking. But if not it could just as easily take a bite out of the man or tear off some of his flesh with its talons to take back to the woods. It bared its saliva-drenched fangs at the thought of the meal. The creature sped into the doorway.
It was promptly met with a fist to its face. The creature crashed hard onto the floor and didn't move.
“Damn banshees.” Grimey muttered. He took a bite out of an apple and shook out his hand. The cracking sound and the twisted position the banshee laid in assured Grimey it was dead. He grimaced at the sight of a banshee on his floor, took a step and punted the corpse out of his workshop. Then he strolled back into the kitchen to finish preparing his breakfast.
Later that morning there was a knock at Grimey's door. It was McGrady, his neighbor and long time friend. One of the only people Grimey could call a friend. McGrady lived with his wife Marian just across the way from Grimey's cabin. The two ran a small farm, which provided just enough for them to get by.
The farmer had on a faded yellow tunic blotched with dirt stains. His pants were brown but it was difficult to tell if that was the color of the fabric or if dirt had recolored them. McGrady's face was wrinkled, his hands heavily calloused, but his eyes were soft and friendly, which matched well with his salt and pepper hair. He had been spotting banshees at the edge of the woods all morning and had come to warn Grimey.
“I've seen those purple wretches in the trees.” McGrady said, “They'll start stealing my crops and bothering my animals soon. Think you can take a stroll in the Woodlawn and take care of them?” McGrady asked. Grimey told him about how a banshee flew into his workshop earlier. The farmer wasn't surprised. Banshees were a nuisance. But he was relieved that Grimey agreed to do something. After all, Grimey was a hunter.
There are a few things every town and village must have. A farmer to grow food. A blacksmith to make tools. An inn for travelers. And hunters to protect against invading monsters. Every town has monsters living nearby that never go away. It's the hunter's job to keep them from harming people. Towns usually had several hunters. In McGrady's opinion, Grimey was the best hunter in Quarry. It also helped that they were neighbors and Grimey was very accessible to the farmer.
Banshees usually kept to the woods. They entered Quarry to snatch up crops from the farms and quickly retreated back into Woodlawn. It's something the farmers have learned to deal with. But occasionally the banshees attack frequently and in greater numbers. That's when hunters are needed. If the banshees are left alone they'll grow braver and begin attacking people. Hunters kept the number of banshees under control so they only are a nuisance and not a danger.
McGrady's request was no surprise to Grimey. The banshee numbers were low and having only one fly out of the woods was nothing to be alarmed about but McGrady's farm is small. He kept a careful watch on his crops and livestock. The slightest hint of trouble sent the farmer knocking on Grimey's door. The bearded hunter didn't mind the extra work though. McGrady had been a reliable neighbor, a good friend, and the fact that Grimey despises monsters makes the extra work a pleasure. He was more than happy to venture into the woods before the day ended.
When the sun began to fall low in the sky Grimey geared up. He strapped on a leather bandoleer he had made himself and loaded it full of small hatchets. The hatchets were Grimey's choice distance weapon and they fitted into custom loops that had an added leather backing to holster the sharp blades. Each hatchet was carefully hand crafted and shaped by the hunter. They were weighted more heavily at the blade-end but balanced to give a steady and straight flight through the air. They were as accurate as any throwing knife. At the backside of his bandoleer were customized loops to holster Grimey's great-axe. The polished blade gleamed in the sunlight and would easily slice through any banshee that came within range. A belt strapped around Grimey's waist latched onto the bandoleer and held a few more throwing hatchets along his waist. More weapons the better was the way he figured things.
Ready to hunt, Grimey left his workshop and headed toward the treeline. He examined the sun's placement in the sky and figured he had about three hours of daylight left. Plenty of time to hunt some banshees and get a feel of how many were hiding in the woods.
The bearded hunter ventured out beyond the perpetually green treeline of pines. The trees were spaced evenly and allowed for plenty of room to move, although the hunter knew that deeper in the more clustered and narrow things would get. Grimey stayed near the treeline at first, searching the area for any banshees that may have been preparing to attack.
No sign of banshees near the treeline. The beasts McGrady saw must have moved on. Time to go deeper into the woods.
Oak trees mixed with pines and ironwoods deeper in the woods. The green canopy gave way to patches of orange, yellow, and brown as the leaves had turned color with the changing season. Already many dried up brown leaves littered the ground, covering the once soft dirt. It would make being stealthy a bit tricky.
Grimey pulled out a hatchet and held it ready in his hand. If a banshee showed up he'd be ready to throw or swipe. It wasn't long until he spotted something purple in the trees. Perched on a branch, its sickly dark-purple skin gleamed in what little sunlight broke through the treetops. Looks like a bat, Grimey thought, just bigger and purple. It had teeth, fangs, and jaws strong enough to tear through a persons flesh. So were its talons.
The banshee picked at something at its feet. Some sort of rodent it had caught. It served the hunter well because the banshee didn't notice Grimey slowly creeping up on it. Then Grimey misjudged a step and snapped some twigs. The banshees ears pricked up and its yellow eyes honed in on the spot the sound came from. But it never saw what made it. Before the banshee could focus, a hatchet slammed into its face and the creature fell to the ground. Grimey, still careful to keep his footsteps quiet, retrieved his weapon.
He moved stealthily through the woods with footsteps much lighter than one would expect from a man of his size and burly appearance. But Grimey had been hunting for a long time and had learned how to move quietly regardless of the terrain. The ground could be hard packed dirt, soft soil, mud, or fallen leaves. Grimey could navigate through them all without making a sound as long as he kept focused and didn't misjudge a step like he had just done.
Grimey moved through the woods in sweeping arcs. He traveled north a ways then angled south and slightly east. This ensured that he covered most of the area along Quarry's eastern side, and particularly near McGrady's farm. When he spotted a banshee he would let a hatchet fly and retrieve the weapon. Grimey always retrieved his hatchets whenever possible. The weapons were perfectly reusable plus if he lost too many he would have to make more. A labor that he didn't mind but preferred to avoid.
The banshees were mostly scattered but as Grimey moved further east he noticed they appeared more frequently. This made the hunter suspicious. Then he spotted two banshees in the same tree, which was odd given that banshees were mostly solitary creatures. The only time banshees travel in groups is when they raid the town. They would fly into Quarry at once and take what they could from farms or attack an animal. Their numbers confuse and scare the townsfolk making it easier for the creatures to get what they want and get away. Plus the greater numbers gave the hunters more to deal with. But these banshees were nowhere near the town. Interested, Grimey crept to a spot behind a tree surrounded by shrubs and watched them.
Banshees don't talk to one another. In fact, they don't talk at all. They shriek. But these two seemed to have an understanding of each other. They faced the same western
direction, which was slightly toward Grimey, but one was looking to the north while the other looked to the south. It was like they were sentries keeping watch. But what were they watching out for? Or more importantly, thought Grimey, what were they protecting?
The hunter decided not to kill these two banshees thinking it would be better to maintain stealth and sneak by the sentries and investigate what they were guarding. Then he changed his mind. There were two banshees, he had two hatchets, and he had two arms. Both banshees fell to the ground lifeless when hatchets simultaneously slammed into their chests. Grimey collected his weapons and moved on. Now he could investigate satisfied that he dispatched of every banshee along the way.
What he found, just a little deeper in the woods, filled him with concern. And to make things worse, daylight was slipping away. Grimey knew he had to get out of the woods before sundown and get back to Quarry to rally the other hunters. They had work to do.
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