Chapter Eleven

> You wake up in a cold sweat, your dreams haunted by the horrific visage of the red destroyer
> Piss. You need to piss
> Groggily you rise to your feet, yawning as you rub the sleep from your eyes
> You walk outside, the forest bathed in the dim twilight of predawn
> You freeze mid-step, any remaining drowsiness instantly dispelled
> Not twenty feet away stands the most glorious elk you’ve ever seen
> His heads rises from the stream, locking eyes with you
> Both of you stand perfectly still, staring at each other
> He was old, probably at least 20 years, but still strong
> His massive frame was covered in a thick dark coat, a massive rack of antlers atop his head
> You stood there for what felt like hours, until the elk turned and ran, bounding into the forest
> You stand there for a few minutes in silence, stunned.
> That was no ordinary animal, that was a king among elk
> For an elk to live that long, it must be exceptionally alert and strong
> You knew hunters back home who would kill for a chance to hunt something like that
> And you had that chance
> It would be hard. It will take all day, maybe even more, to track that elk
> And would take every ounce of your ability and cunning to take it down.
> You grin grew on your face as you reveled in the challenge to come
> There was just one thing needed to make this all perfect
> You head back inside and retrieve your bow, a plan forming in your head
>You lounge under a wild apple tree, feeling the warmth of the midday sun through your open jacket
> You were surprised when you found this tree a few weeks ago, but the apples were pleasantly crisp. You had a few gathered back at camp.
> You sat at the base of the trunk, hands folded behind your head and eyes closed
> Despite your sleepy demeanor, you were wide awake and alert, waiting.
> It wouldn’t be long now. You knew she couldn’t resist an opportunity like this.
> As if on cue, you hear the soft flapping of wings, followed by a familiar voice
> “Well, what do we have here?” Gilda asks sarcastically, “Sleeping on the job, anon?”
“Oh, hello Gilda.” You lazily reply, keeping your eyes closed
>“What’s wrong, dweeb? You finally realize that freaky-stick-thing of yours can’t compete with a good pair of talons?”
“Oh please,” you retort, shifting slightly, “I could hunt better than you with my eyes closed.”
>”Oh yeah?” she snaps back, “I bagged two rabbits this morning already, what have you got?”
“Rabbits?” you scoff, opening your eyes, “I suppose that’s pretty good, but I prefer going after something a little more challenging than hares.”
> Gilda’s eyes narrow, her self-assured smirk fading.
> “Like what?” she asks
> You lean forward, you know you have her attention now
“There’s an elk in these woods. Old buck with a large rack. It would take a hunter with some REAL skill to bring him down.”
>“I suppose you think that would be you.”
“Well, I don’t mean to brag…”
>”Stow it, freak.” Gilda cut in, “I’m going to bag that elk myself, and prove once and for all I’m the top predator around here.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
>With a loud huff, Gilda launched herself into the air, flying out of view
> You couldn’t help but grin. You knew she wouldn’t be able to resist a challenge like this.
> Hunting that elk was already going to be enjoyable, but beating her to the kill would make today that much more satisfying.
> But if you were going to win, you needed to head out now.
> You grabbed your bow and set of at a brisk pace
> Before long, you arrived back at the tracks you scoped out this morning and began following them.
> Your style of hunting was vastly different than Gilda’s
> Gilda hunted by using her keen eyesight and greater speed. She would fly over vast swathes of land until she spotted prey.
> Then she would swoop down at great speeds at snatch it before it could react
> Your method, on the other hand, was much more direct
> You tracked individual prey, relying on stealth to close the distance. It was slower than Gilda’s method, but it gave you an advantage here.
> While she had to search throughout a wide area, you simply had to follow the tracks
> But you still had to hurry, if she got lucky and spotted the elk before up caught up with it, she would win.
> This elk was experienced at masking it’s tracks. It twisted and turned, wove through thick brush, and crossed streams at every opportunity.
> You lost the trail several times as you hurried to catch up, forcing you to double back and retrace your steps, wasting precious time
> You were still making progress though, the tracks and signs were becoming more and more fresh as the day went on.
> You began to grow uneasy as you noticed a pattern in the direction of the tracks
> They were heading west
> A knot begins to form in your stomach as the scenery begins to change, growing more jungle-like
> You hear the same unnatural silence you noticed the first time you were here
> You still avoided this section of the woods after your encounter with the cockatrice, who knew what else lurked in here
> You swallow your apprehension and push on through the vines and ferns
> You weren’t going to back down now. You weren’t going to let her win
> The prints in the mud are extremely fresh now, the elk can’t be far off
> The eerie silence is broke by a loud avian screech above the canopy
> A screech of victory and triumph
> Dammit! She found the elk!
> You sprint off into the foliage, desperate to get ahead of her
> You are not going to lose!
> You hear the sounds of struggle ahead of you
> You burst into a small clearing, skidding to a halt at the sight of the scene before you
> Gilda was in the center of the clearing, standing over the corpse of the fallen elk
> Around her prowled five wolves, growling and snapping at the griffon
> At least, they looked like wolves, but not any you’ve ever seen
> They had coats as black as night, their eyes glowed like red coals in their sockets
> Gilda swiped at the canines, trying keeping them at bay with her talons, but there too many
> One of the wolves leaped through the air, mouth agape and talons outstretched
> You quickly fire off a snap shot, impacting the wolf mid leap and sending it sprawling to the ground
> Gilda’s gaze snaps toward you, her eyes wide with adrenaline
> “What the hell are you doing here freak?”
“Saving your ass! What’s it look like?” You shout back, drawing another arrow
>”I don’t need your help!” she snaps back, swiping at another wolf that ventured too close
“Oh yeah, sure. You really have things under control.” You sarcastically reply, drawing another arrow
>You fire at another wolf, the arrow striking through the creature’s eye, killing it instantly
> You’ve definitely got their attention now
> One of wolves breaks off from the group, sprinting at you
> You try to ready another arrow, but the hound closes the distance too quickly
> The wolf leaps onto you, knocking you off your feet and sending your bow flying from your grasp
> You painfully crash into the ground, the canine pinning your chest down with his paws
> You slam your left forearm under his jaw as he lunges forward, jaw snapping shut inches from your face
> You struggle to hold the creature’s maw away from you, trying to reach your knife
> You can smell it’s foul breath as you fumble at your belt, drool dripping onto your face
> Finally you free your knife, driving it into the wolf’s underside
> The wolf yelps in pain as you work the blade upward, before it’s body goes completely limp
> You push the body off you, scrambling to your feet
> Gilda managed to dispatch one of the remaining wolves, but suffered some visible scratches in the process
> The remaining hound pounces her, driving her back into a tree
> Her head strikes the trunk with an audible crack, her body slumping to the ground
> The wolf rears back, preparing to tear into her neck
“Hey! Over here you mangy mutt!”
>The wolf turns and looks at you, it’s eyes full of malice and cruelty
> You hurl your knife with an overhand throw, sending it spinning through the air
> The knife strikes the wolf between the eyes, the blade piercing through the skull
> It takes a few groggy steps toward you, swaying with every movement, before collapsing to the ground in a heap.
>Your arms hang limp at your sides, your breathing heavy and your body shaking as the adrenaline begins to wear off
> Second time you’ve been here and you almost died again
> It’s official, these woods suck
> You move to check on Gilda, she’s lying unconscious at the base of the tree she struck
> You can’t check her pulse through the feathers, but you can see the gentle rising and falling of her chest as she breathes
> She’s got a few scratches here and there, but nothing that requires immediate attention
> You make her a bit more comfortable, then go to retrieve your belongings
> You retrieve your bow from the ground, checking it over for damage, but it seems unharmed
> You pull your arrows and knife out from the corpses of the wolves. Even dead, they seem unnaturally evil.
> Gilda’s still out cold, you feel a twang of guilt as you look at her
> This whole hunt was your idea, she wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t challenged her earlier. It was your fault this happened.
> And you certainly can’t just leave her here. More predators are bound to show up eventually, and no one deserves to be left to that
> You give a sigh of resignation as you realize you really have no choice about what to do
> You stow away your bow and move over to the griffon
> You slump her unconscious form over your back, her arms and head hanging limply over your shoulders
> She’s surprisingly light for her size. You figure it must be the feathers, or maybe she has hollow bones
> You begin to hike through the forest, heading back toward camp.
> It’s nearly nightfall when you arrive back at your hidden alcove
> Gilda still hasn’t woken up, you lay her down to rest atop your makeshift bed
> You practically collapse against the cavern wall and slide down to the floor
> You’re completely exhausted from the day’s events
> Sleep claims you quickly as the first stars begin to appear in the sky