by Marius Thue
The moon lights up the cave wall to his left. Someone has drawn figures in here. He sees three wolves, a bear, and some deer. With a rock in hand, he begins to etch some figures of his own.
Sad and pathless, he starts to wander toward the horizon. In the cave, the moonlight shines on a family of five holding hands. One figure is large, three are slightly smaller, and one is only half their size. What seems to be a large shining star looms over them. They all appear to look up at it with sadness on their faces.
CHAPTER 4
Five winters pass, and Thoke is always on the move. He must have gone some ways south because the days are warmer than what he's used to. Mountains and snow have mostly been swapped for forests and grass. It’s turned to summer here now as well, which makes it even warmer.
He's found a new favorite prey: boar. These are large and aggressive animals who can kill a man with ease, stabbing with their sharp tusks. Thoke, on the other hand, is no longer a regular man. Boars pose little threat to him, which is seen by his now mostly dark brown outfit. He's covered himself in brown pelts from these boars. It's too warm to cover himself completely, so now he only covers up below the waist.
Cold weather doesn't bother him as much anymore either. Still, he usually dresses for the temperatures. Comfort still comes first. Besides, other people look strangely at a man wearing nothing, even more so during winter. His senses have all been heightened, especially sight and hearing.
Thoke is in every way the perfect predator, but even if hunting is no challenge now, he still enjoys making things interesting. In an open terrain, he can simply outrun his prey without much trouble. The only thing that holds him back is the lack of control he has over his abilities. He often struggles to keep his balance under high-speed chases and several times has run straight into trees during hunts.
It usually doesn't take many tries to catch an animal, though, so he uses different strategies to keep himself entertained. Hunger hasn't been a problem in any way. It seems he can go days without feeling hungry. He still eats every day because he finds himself tired when he doesn't. A juicy piece of meat is always tempting, regardless.
His greatest enemy usually appears on hot summer days, when dark clouds flow across the sky. When a lightning bolt strikes nearby, enhanced hearing isn't something he enjoys. Several times, he has been knocked to the ground buy a violent crash of thunder. He always wakes a day later with a wicked headache and dried blood in his ears.
Thoke hunts a lonely boar that burrows for roots deep in the forest. The trees are spread out thinly, and the trunks are mostly free of twigs and leaves. They only start to grow just above Thoke's head, so he won't find much cover here. The ground is flat and dry. Long twisty roots stick out, making the possibility for tripping very high. Pine needles and pinecones litter the forest ground. Thoke wants to see how close he can get before his prey notices him.
Quiet as a mouse, he sneaks closer, making himself as small as he possibly can. He uses the tree trunks to hide behind when he feels the boar might suspect something. The boar doesn't have a clue about what’s to happen, however. Not until Thoke stands a mere five steps away from it. The boar sticks its snout in the air, grunting as it sniffs.
Suddenly, it bolts away. Clearly, it's caught the hunter’s scent. With a crooked smile on his lips, Thoke chases after it. The boar is quick and flexible as it scurries between the roots and trees. It's not fast enough, though. Thoke gets up behind it and lunges over his prey, seeming more like a hungry wolf than a man.
With massive force, Thoke slams his stone dagger into the top of the animals head. It dies instantly. It's visibly brutal, but if nothing else a fast and painless death.
Well satisfied with today’s effort, Thoke decides to make camp right at this spot. He never carries much on his travels but makes a fresh camp every night. A tree will do as shelter. All he needs to do is to remain tight to the trunk and any rain won’t touch him. He has no problem finding enough dry twigs and small logs to make a fire.
As night falls in the forest, Thoke is getting hungry. Cooking after dark is Thoke's highlight of the day. Some bark and pine needles will catch fire easy enough. All he needs is a spark. He doesn't have any flints at the moment, so he places a log on the dry ground. He then grabs a stick and rubs it back and forth into the log. With perfect technique, some embers quickly appear. With a few light puffs of air and some small dry twigs, a fire starts to build. The twigs burn nicely, so he carefully places some larger sticks on there. Before too long, Thoke has a nice campfire, and he can begin to gut his kill.
Every part of the boar can be used, but Thoke doesn't need much. Tonight he just wants a nice meal. The rodents and insects can have the rest. He carves up his prey in peace and quiet.
He's been alone since the day of the storm. Whenever he's seen other people, he has always made sure to avoid them when possible. Something in him just can't connect to others anymore, fearing he might lose them too.
Thoke feels good on his own, but hope still remains that he might someday find his family. He keeps moving every day, covering as large an area as possible. Thoke lives one day at a time, filling his days with wandering and hunting. This night, he can feel a strange chill in the air.
Long into the night, Thoke eats his meat in peace. He ponders on some of his dreams. Flashes of what happened that day in the storm come to him sometimes. It's still fuzzy and unclear, but he can remember movements, lights, and a violent burst of noise.
Even at night, the forest teems with life. Sounds can be heard all around, and with Thoke’s enhanced hearing, not much escapes him. Sometimes he struggles to filter out the sounds, however, and it's not always easy to tell if something is fifty steps away or one thousand. With time he has begun to master his abilities, but a lot still needs to be learned.
The sounds around him can sometimes become too intense. Nights grow long when every sound of the forest fills his ears all at once. At times it can feel like someone is screaming right next to him. There's simply too many sounds to sort out. In dire times, Thoke wanders to the highest mountaintop close by, where only the wind flows, and he can focus to block it out.
Thoke tears into a deeply charred piece of meat, when the birds suddenly stops their chirping. Only his fire crackles lightly. The forest becomes silent and still. Something is close by.
Thoke stands up and tries to listen for sounds deeper into the woods, but it's no use. He looks around and attempts to find movement with his eyes instead. A squirrel runs right in front of him, and it almost makes him jump into the air. The little feet tripping across the forest floor slams into his eardrums, and Thoke has to avert his focus. As the squirrel hurries up a tree, Thoke still can't spot anything else. The silence makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Then he sees it. A few trees in, a pair of glowing eyes appear. When he spots another set, he takes a step back and almost trips into the fire. He turns and spots another pair behind him. Wolves, and they have him surrounded.
Eyes keep popping up as he begins to notice the form of the first two. The light his fire casts has made his vision weak in the dark. Thoke counts at least ten wolves, and he has to figure out what to do before it's too late. Should he make a run for it or stand his ground? He can't decide. When it comes to speed, he knows the wolves won't be able to catch him at full sprint. No, there are too many, and he often struggles to stay on his feet at high speeds. Tripping will make him an easy target.
He might be able to take some of them out, but their numbers are too great. Maybe they only want the boar. Slowly, they close in on him, silently at first but then come the noises: growling, snapping, and those chilling howls. They start to pick up speed, crunching across the tree branches on the ground. The howling digs into his eardrums, sending chills down his spine. His father would say “As you hear the wolves growling, it's already too late to run.”
Thoke hesitates for too long. He can't get away from this confrontation now. He has fought wolves befo
re, but always one or two at a time. Never has he had to face an entire pack. A lonely wolf can be scared away easily enough, but ten is something entirely different. I wish Grym was here and that his stories were true, Thoke thinks to himself. Carefully, he reaches for his spear, which is stuck in the ground with the pointed end facing upwards. This was a mistake, he realizes. With only a slight moment of unawareness, one wolf wraps his jaws around Thoke's stretched out right arm. Thoke's skin is hard, so the wolf’s sharp teeth cannot easily break through.
With a thud, he throws the wolf into a nearby tree trunk. Its back seems to have broken on impact. Before Thoke manages to get his bearings, two other wolves make their move. One attaches itself to his thigh while the other bites down on the same arm as the one before it. This wolf now manages to get the taste of blood. Thoke stops himself from screaming by gritting his teeth together as the pain spreads out into his fingertips.
With his left hand, he's able to grab his dagger and plunges it into the wolf biting his thigh. The dagger buries deep into the wolf’s right eye, making the animal go limp. He shakes the other wolf off with a snap of his elbow. With a tight grip, he grabs the wolf by a front and back leg, whips it over his head, and breaks its back across his knee. Three down, seven left. This is going much better than he expected.
His right arm bleeds heavily near the elbow, but Thoke only takes a quick look at it and now decides to attack. He lunges forward and knocks one wolf over on its side. Swiftly, he grabs a nearby head-sized rock and gets on top of the snarling gray animal. With all his force, he crushes the wolf’s head. Blood, bones, and brains go flying as another two wolves throw themselves at him. One grabs his ankle while the other goes for his bloody right arm.
Thoke thinks to attempt the same maneuver as before, but his dagger is still buried in the first wolf’s eye. He hesitates for a moment and gets attacked by a third wolf, then a fourth, and a fifth. They're all around him, snapping and ripping at whatever they can get a hold of. They growl and snarl, and in between the sounds Thoke can hear teeth meeting bone.
Teeth clack against bone as they rip open several gashes across his body. The largest of the wolves clamps down on Thoke’s throat, tearing back and forth. Eventually Thoke can feel blood filling his mouth. Blood sprays across his face as he coughs, trying desperately to catch his breath.
In a flash of panic, he tears himself loose. Limping, he runs into the woods and manages to get some distance from the wolves. He looks back and sees their mouths open, dripping with blood. He barely gets away. His heart beats heavily beneath his chest, and he can feel it pumping blood to every wound. Blood covers his body as he weaves between the trees. The wolves have stopped chasing him. They seem happy to feed on the boar carcass instead.
Thoke moves his feet with all his might, but his body can't keep it up much longer. He can feel himself growing weaker. Finally, his legs give out from under him, and he falls down into a wide but shallow stream. Blood flows down with the water. He still can't breathe properly. Desperately, he gasps for air. Panic spreads and in the end his body can no longer take it as he passes out from the pain. His face falls sideways into the water, his nose only barely catching some small puffs of air.
Thoke lies motionless in the stream. He dreams about his family as he's back in their last camp. Tseena and his mother sit on a log right in front of him. He's happy here. His sister holds up Thoke's necklace. As he rises to grab it, a bright white light blinds him.
Suddenly he's on his back, looking up. Some lights are blinking above, but they are not stars. He lays his head on its side, wondering what this might be. Next to him he can see his father lying on some kind of platform, as if he was to be burned on a pyre before getting buried. He lies motionless with some kind of strings attached across his body.
Thoke tries to rise. He must help his father, but he cannot move at all. On his right he sees Grym, appearing in the same way as his father. On his left Helok lies in the same way. He glimpses Dorkas lying across from himself, not far from his feet. It seems like Thorkar and Skarn lie next to Dorkas, but Thoke can't turn to see well enough.
They are all naked and have strings attached to their skin. He looks down at his arm and sees the strings go under his skin, across from his elbow. What is this place? he thinks. It smells weird, as if someone has burned something wet. He feels distant and struggles to focus his gaze. It feels as if the room is spinning. What a strange hut this is. It almost felt like he said it out loud that time.
There seems to be someone else here as well. They are walking around the room. Now more are coming in, but they are blurry, and he can't make them out. He looks up. A bright light shines in his face as someone bends over him. The person is unclear at first, but then he sees her. It's a woman, and she's beautiful.
Water flows all around him. He's back in the stream. Is this real or still a dream? He can't quite tell anymore.
CHAPTER 5
Neera always feels lonely, even in a tribe of over one hundred people. They have wandered far from their hunting grounds to the southeast. It was the chief, Saal, who ordered to move here many years ago. The plains they used to roam had become overcrowded, and they needed a new and fresh landscape to live in.
Neera never wanted to leave. She liked the open plains, the dense forests, and the warmth. The mountains up here in the north are too dark and sad. Not enough colors, she feels. She prefers the woods, where some flowers and grass at least grow.
The tribe camps out at the foot of a mountain. True to their old habits, they have set up camp some ways inside a forest of birch trees, something Neera is quite pleased with. They are used to staying a long time at their campsites and only change spots a few times during each year. Here conditions are different, and they have to travel more often to find food when an area is stripped clean.
Saal has decided they will only stay here until the morning frost arrives. Then they will journey back to more familiar lands. There is no reason for them to stay when it snows. None of them are too familiar with the cold.
Neera sits hunched over a small stream. She's washing her face with the cold water. Brown eyes gaze at her in the twisted reflection of herself. The sun hangs high in the sky and warms her neck. Perhaps this place isn't so bad after all, she thinks. She can feel the knots in her long dark hair. She must remember to ask her mother to help her loosen them.
Her mother and father are the only close family Neera has left. Her older brother went off to establish his own tribe but was quickly killed by a challenger to his role as chief. She also had some younger siblings live long enough to see daylight, but they, too, now lie in the ground. Two of them died before being able to form words, and one was five winters old when the cold sickness got stuck in his chest.
On the way back to the hut her mother and father are currently erecting, she passes the chief, Saal, and the tribe’s new northerner. He joined the tribe only a few days ago. The northern one is pale skinned and his beard sits thick and black on his face. There's almost no hair above his ears though. The man seems to be in some form of panic, but the chief doesn't seem to display the same body language.
“We must leave this place. It isn't safe!” the man begs. He gets down on one knee, grabbing Saal’s right leg.
The chief jerks free and growls like an old, angry bear. “Demons doesn't exist, madman,” he says in his deep voice.
The chief is like most chiefs, the largest and strongest in the tribe. With a thin dark beard hanging from is upper lip and chin, he looks quite scary.
“They do, you must listen!” the northerner pleads. “They come at night, and no one is safe. I've seen campsites full of blood and corpses, where there was life and joy the day before. Some say they came out of cracks in the mountain, from the depths of the underworld itself, to consume our world.” The man is close to crying and crawls closer to the chief, who again pulls away.
Neera can see doubt in the chief’s eyes as he assesses the northerner’s words. Could the gods have s
ent demons against their tribe? Is this punishment for having wandered too far north? Neera shudders at the thought.
“These demons, what did they look like?” Saal asks.
“They barely wear any pelts on their bodies but are covered in black stripes of coal. They can't be stopped because they cannot be killed. Every day they wander further from the mountains in their hunt for blood. It doesn't matter if you’re human or beast as the demons see us as one and the same. All they want is to kill. I beg you, run to the south. Now!” The man lies on his stomach, sobbing and trying to catch his breath.
Saal growls again, but this time there's more wondering in his tone.
“Many wear coal as war paint. That's nothing we cannot defeat,” he says.
Suddenly the northerner sits up and begins to laugh nervously. Neera looks at him and catches herself leaning her head down to one side while staring.
“War paint?” the man spits while laughing. “It's not war paint. It's simply how the demons came into this world.” The man stands, and Neera realizes he's just as tall as Saal, maybe even as thick as well. “The demons are one thing,” the man continues. “But they're not the worst ones. In their battle lines, they have a beast who is said to have killed men with his gaze alone. The tremors the beast makes with each step can make a man’s blood boil in his veins. The beast is almost the height of two men, has a human body, but it's when you see his head you truly wish you were somewhere else entirely. Moose antlers loom high in the air because the beast is some sick breed of human and animal. He snorts and stomps like a moose, but moves like a man.”
More tribesmen have walked up to hear the man’s story, and Neera judges that almost all have gathered around. Chills crawl down her spine as she pictures the beast standing among them. She looks to her side and sees her mother and father in a clearly terrified embrace.
