Each other hunter took turns demonstrating how to harvest the Fruit Bat young, slowly climbing up the tree, how to support the pod while separating the thin mucous veins that drew forth nutrients, and how to carefully handle the pod lest the delicate membrane around it puncture.
The hunters had made their demonstration while climbing to the higher placentas, leaving the lower ones alone to make it easier for the less developed pups to be able to reach. The adults each took a small number of the fledgling hunters and watched them take turns climbing up and separating. As was normal, the children took quickly to the teachings, but failure was not treated kindly. Every pod that was broken or dropped was rebuked with a firm but quiet blow from the child's father: it was necessary for the pups to learn that wasting the life of a creature and gaining nothing was not tolerable.
Finally, each child stood with a placenta in hand, making sure they held it as carefully as possible. The full-fledged hunters made show of their skills by deftly harvesting the remaining Fruit Bat pods, leaving one per tree, in the highest reaches of the canopy where they'd be concealed and safe from other predators. Konta learned through years of experience that by doing this, the Fruit Bat embryos would not be competing with each other for the tree's precious nutrients, and would grow much more quickly. This would lead to a choice few strong, hardy Fruit Bats, rather than numerous weaker ones. The strong ones would definitely thrive, making sure that they'd have more pods to harvest for many Springs to come.
They left the mature Fruit Bat sleeping, not wanting to rouse it with so many young, inexperienced targets that were just as ripe for the picking as the pods. The harvest they had today would make fine meals for days to come, with yet more of them set to be preserved for use when food supplies ran low. It was a successful venture today; something that Konta knew was rare for a hunt. He glanced around at the content faces of the children, who seemed genuinely proud of their achievements, and knew that not all of them would live through the coming seasons, as their instincts would be tested time and again against far more dangerous fare. For now, though, they would have this small victory. That, Konta knew, they deserved at least.
The Fauxbe Cow
Normally the tribe did not stay active during nighttime. The risks were simply too high for the rewards, since it was during that time that dangerous creatures that reveled in the darkness came out to hunt. However, there were a small enclave of hunters in the tribe who could move freely during the night, using their superior cunning and mobility to find prey for the next day's hunt. These were the scouts, and they were the pride of the tribe, for without their prowess in night hunting the day hunters would have no information on where a den of predators might be, or where potential prey lay waiting, ripe for the plucking.
Such was the situation that Konta found himself in as he was silently woken while the Moon still hung high over the canopy. As a safe practice, it was two sharp taps on his shoulder that woke him. Sleepy as he was, Konta recognized this as a sign that he was being stirred out of sleep by a tribesman, rather than some creature sampling him as prey.
The one who was standing over him was his friend Klik, one of the more seasoned tribal scouts. The hood of Klik's pelt was pulled low over his head, and if Konta hadn't seen it so many times he might have startled at the sight of the massive compound eyes that now glared at him- the eyes of the Wonderwasp. Klik knew how unsettling this sight was, though, and quickly lowered his hood, allowing Konta to see the excitement in his eyes. Konta had seen this expression before, and knew what being woken so early meant: the scouts had found an opportunity so great that it couldn't wait until morning.
Konta hadn't had much sleep, having been on late guard duty again. The Moon had only moved three finger span since Konta had lay down for the night. Still, he had known Klik for a long time, and Konta was quite aware that if his friend woke him then there was good reason for it.
He rose with care, making sure not to rouse Kontala from her much needed rest, and quickly dressed himself. As he draped his Obsidian Panther pelt over his shoulders, Klik approached him and handed him a weapon. Konta took pause as he took the tool in hand. It was a fairly normal looking hammer, with a shaft as long as Konta's forearm and a hammerhead slightly larger than his fist. However, it was the head of this tool that was unlike anything else in the tribe- it shone with a luster like the surface of the water in the midday Sun, a color more beautiful than any stone seen before.
Konta had found this sparkling stone several years prior and learned soon thereafter that it bore strength enough to smash solid rock without breaking. It took many seasons for him to work a hole in it and fit a handle inside, but upon doing this Konta came into possession of a weapon of unparalleled efficiency. It was this weapon alone that had secured many of Konta's recent kills and cemented his place as a top hunter. It would be unfair to consider this turn of events unfair luck on Konta's part: the rules of the tribe might have been unspoken, but they were followed absolutely. His fortune was considered part of his hunting skill, just as much as the muscles he earned through years of hard effort.
Despite its unquestionable strength, Konta was often reluctant to bring the weapon with him on hunts. Simply put, it was too heavy- on long hunts it sapped Konta's strength to carry it with him, and swinging it repeatedly would tire even his strong body quickly. It was a tool to be used only when a single, devastating blow would guarantee a kill. The hammer was all but worthless against prey that was nimble, or expected to require a prolonged chase. The fact that Klik handed this weapon to Konta meant that this was the situation that was presented now. Konta's hammer was the most effective tool for this hunt, and so Konta- sleep deprived as he was- would be needed for this particular hunt.
Konta was tying the hammer to his waist as he stepped out of his tepee and approached the covered fire pit, where a small number of shadowed silhouettes had already gathered. The fire had been put out quite some time ago, but Konta's eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out three other hunters. Besides Klik, there was Bobo, another scout like Klik who wore the pelt of an adult Fruit Bat. Standing next to Bobo was a young man who Konta recognized as Bobo's son, Bobobu. Normally a small group such as this would be used to hunt during a night hunt, as a large group would make too much noise and draw unwanted attention, but Konta was confused by Bobobu's presence. A hunter without a pelt wouldn't usually be brought along on such a risky hunt, but Konta got the feeling that Bobo was bringing his son along precisely so he could finally get his first pelt- Bobobu was of the age where he was expected to bag a hunt on his own, after all. Konta had the feeling the only reason he was coming along was to lend his hammer.
Klik and Bobo took the lead as the group set out to the site they found. Bobo quickly found a tall tree and scampered up it without making a sound. Once he reached the top, he unfurled from within the folds of his cloak a pair of giant, membranous wings. The frames that had been built into them by the tribeswomen snapped into place, creating a makeshift glider, and with the grace of a thousand flights' experience Bobo took to the sky, the natural design of the Fruit Bat's wings allowing him to soar silently through the night sky. No matter how many times Konta saw it, he couldn't deny it was a spectacle to see, and a credit to the ingenuity of the women of the tribe. He smiled as he saw the dumbfounded look on Bobobu's face; clearly he had never seen his father's expertise in action before.
Meanwhile, Klik led the other two on the ground. The wings of the Wonderwasp couldn't grant him flight like Bobo, but Konta knew that the large, bulbous eyes on the hood of Klik's pelt granted him absolute vision in all directions. Klik would see any threat, no matter what angle it came at from the ground, and Bobo's aerial scouting would allow him to see danger that lay outside Klik's panoramic view. There was almost no enemy their combined talents couldn't detect, and more than once it was these skills that had saved the tribe from utter destruction.
The Moon had traveled several more finger spans before Klik he
ld up a hand to stop Konta and Bobobu. Bobo had been circling around an area a fair distance ahead, and Konta knew what this meant: that was where their prey waited. After a few more circles, Bobo returned, alighting in a tree with unnatural agility before disconnecting the struts holding his wings firm and returning them to the depths of his cowl. He scampered down the tree easily and joined with his comrades. Bobobu began to breathe heavily, perhaps nervously. Bobo quickly saw this and laid a reassuring hand on his son's shoulders. Konta could only imagine how the two must have felt, at this critical junction in Bobobu's life, and for a moment his thoughts returned to his mate, asleep in their tent. There was little time for selfish thoughts though, for Konta still did not know what they were about to encounter.
That question was answered readily enough as Klik led them to the edge of the forest, where they now overlooked a small grassy meadow. In the middle of it was a creature that filled Konta with a rush of excitement.
The Kogyu Cow was a beast of fortune to the tribe, one rarely found and even more rarely hunted successfully. They were even more reclusive than Konta's tribe, dwelling in small herds far from the eyes of watchful predators, and for good reason: their meat was by far one of the most delectable and nutritious of any other beast that existed. Konta had no idea why this was. The lifestyle of the Kogyu was shrouded in mystery, but whatever their routine was certainly also would explain the secret to their desirability.
The one thing that Konta did know of them was that this routine was extremely strict, from eating to mating to sleeping. The only time Kogyu were known to break their routines were when their herds were found, in which case they would quickly relocate to avoid utter extermination. Konta's tribe discovered long ago that their behavior was so deeply ingrained, the Kogyu would fall asleep at the same time every night, regardless of location. This was the only way that one could be caught under most circumstances- when one strayed from the herd, whether from immaturity or injury, and ended up falling asleep elsewhere.
This seemed to be the case now, as the group laid eyes on a young bovine slumbering in the middle of the meadow, its nose pressed firmly to the ground. No doubt it had gotten separated and ended up grazing until it ultimately went comatose, just as its heritage dictated. This was a catch beyond their wildest expectations: so nutritious was the Kogyu Cow's meat that a small bite could feed a normal man for a whole day, to say nothing of how many seasons a tribe could feast off an entire Kogyu.
Bobo wordlessly sidled alongside Konta and held a hand out. Konta understood immediately, and handed his hammer to the scout, its head glinting in the Moonlight. Bobo in turn handed the weapon to his son, who staggered ever so slightly from the surprising weight it possessed. Over the next couple minutes Bobo gestured towards the slumbering Kogyu, using subtle gestures to 'tell' Bobobu the proper way to approach the quarry; all the while, Konta and Klik kept vigilant for predators, but luck seemed to be on their side this night. Not the slightest sound or disturbance indicated danger about.
Finally Bobobu took a deep, calming breath and started towards his quarry. Konta was already well versed in how to hunt a Kogyu, despite only having hunted the beast on one other occasion: They possessed upwards of three times the strength of the average hunter, so approaching them from the front or back would only result in being horribly trampled or kicked, respectively. The best way to approach was from the side, as they turned slowly, and therefore it'd be easier to react to any aggression they showed. Sure enough, Bobobu took slow, measured steps as he swung around towards the side, raising the hammer over his head so he would be ready to deliver a single decisive blow the moment he came within striking range.
Konta hadn't realized just how lightheaded he was from being woken so abruptly, but there were details tugging at the edge of his subconscious that started to bother him. Normally Kogyu were all but impossible to find during Spring, as their mating season was during Autumn, and that was usually when there was the highest chance of one being separated from its herd. Even more concerning was how marshy the ground was under their feet. The ground was still spongy with the moisture of Winter's melting snow, and that was something that disconcerted Konta for some reason.
It finally dawned on him what he had forgotten about, but the moment he realized the danger of the situation, there came a horrific cry in the night. It was the sound most terrifying to the people of the tribe: the sound of one of their own in pain.
Right as Bobobu came within killing distance of the Kogyu, the beast swung sideways at a completely impossible angle, appearing to balance perfectly on its nose while all four of its legs wrapped around the young hunter. They tightened instantly into a vice-like grip, the sound of snapping bones popping through the otherwise silent night as Bobo's son let out an involuntary shriek of agony. Now the Kogyu lifted its nose from the ground, revealing a long appendage attached where the mouth should have been. A gruesome, fanged maw emerged nearby, its teeth gnashing eagerly at the fresh meat now flailing nearby.
Without hesitation Konta lunged forward. Bobobu had dropped his hammer in the shock of the attack, but unlike the fledgling hunter Konta had practiced many hours with the weapon. In a single swift motion he hoisted the weighted head over his own and brought it down on the toothy visage. The beast's face caved in at the impact, teeth scattering in all directions as their former owner howled detestably and retreated to the ground. The false Kogyu promptly released their victim, sliding into the marshy soil with unnerving ease.
Konta shook with fear and rage: how could he forget about the terrifying trap of the Fauxbe Cow? Though almost as rare to encounter as the genuine article itself, any appearance of a Kogyu had to be inspected, lest this predator of opportunity lie in wait.
In spite of the name Konta had given it, the creature was far closer to a mole than a cow. It lived deep within the ground, using its large hand to burrow through soft soil until it was ready to attempt feeding. The monster was a gluttonous carnivore, but had an exceedingly weak body save for its single, absurdly powerful tunneling hand. In order to trap prey, this powerful hand had evolved extraordinarily to appear as something that all beasts desired: the Kogyu Cow. Once an unsuspecting predator came within range, the Fauxbe would grab hold of the victim and paralyze them with the weak venom their saliva contained. At that point it was only a matter of time.
The surge of adrenaline had snapped Konta wide awake, and now he was well aware of the horrible danger their group was in. The Fauxbe Cow had already bitten Bobobu by the time Konta smashed in the beast's face. The boy's leg was bleeding profusely, another property of the Fauxbe's venom, and his cry had carried for miles. There was one thing every member of the tribe knew well- all creatures of the world favored human flesh above all other foods, and Bobobu had basically announced a feast for anything within earshot.
Konta bolted from the spot as fast as he could with his heavy weapon still in tow. It was the only tool he had brought with him, and to go unarmed into the wilderness would be worse than standing around at this point. Klik understood the situation just as well, and took a stride ahead of Konta, frantically looking around for any beast that was trying to cut them off. They couldn't stop to see if Bobo was following suit. If he stayed to help his offspring, then his life was forfeit- Konta and Klik favored preserving their own lives above all else now.
They barely broke pace as they passed over the odorous barrier of Desert Squunck musk set up several weeks prior. Once within the boundary of the tepees, they quickly got the attention of the guards and alerted them to the danger that there might soon be an attack from some predator, whatever it may be.
Several hours later, after the Moon had already passed beyond the horizon, the entire tribe stood awake in the covered fire pit, the children wide-eyed and frightened and all adults, man and woman alike, armed and waiting for any threat that may approach.
It was only after the Sun began to peek out that there was any stir of life other than the fearful tribesmen. A large shadow swooped ov
erhead, but the hunters refrained from spearing it as Bobo landed a distance off from the fire pit, his face gaunt and pale. He was alone.
The people knew that no scout who was chosen for the position would ever return to the camp if there was a chance of being tailed, but they were still left with no choice- They would have to spend the coming day packing, always watching out for attacks, before moving on. It was much sooner than they would normally, but their safety was compromised.
Konta cursed himself inwardly for his ignorance and hindsight. He should have seen the dangers of the Fauxbe, even if the monster was so rare to encounter. He should have recognized that the ground was soft enough for it to tunnel through, lying in wait for anything looking for easy prey to wander by, or the way the “nose” of the Kogyu was buried just a little bit deeper than normal. These are things that a scout couldn't easily spot, as Fauxbe Cows were not normally nocturnal hunters, but a day hunter such as Konta was well aware that anomalies such as last night were something to always be wary for, and now they paid the price. They lost a promising young hunter, and it would be many seasons before this wound would scar over- for Konta, or for Bobo.
The Canteen Turtle
There had been precedent for the tribe leaving a campsite earlier than planned, but it didn't make it any less frustrating and added an unnecessary hardship to the tribe's strenuous life. Rest areas that were relatively safe and near sources of food were scarce as it was, so being forced to leave one prematurely was a heavy blow to morale.
The tribe was no stranger to travel: It was their very nature to pick up and move on with the changing of the seasons, finding more temperate climates to live through the harsh weather changes that came naturally with each season. Even so, the dangers the tribe faced were increased when on the move- every step they took was another chance they would leave a telltale sign to a wary predator that they had been there, and when the tribe could only move as quickly as its slowest member, it always made travel a risky venture.
Against All Instinct Page 2
