I love the start of the day. Just after the first rays of light peak over the horizon, throwing long sunbeams through the trees. The waking birds fill the air with comforting trills and chirps. A light mist and a heavy dew shrouds the forest and smother the rustling of the leaves. The air is damp and chilly, but I am warm in my heavy cloak.

I set a brisk pace down the trail, following a well worn trail towards the river, then turning up the bank away from the Village. As I walk I munch on nuts and fruits from a pouch on my belt. It is lunchtime when I reach the creek that marks the turning point in my journey, but I do not stop to eat. Instead I remove the heavy spear that has been strapped to my back, and adjust all the buckles that keep my bags and pouches secure.

The further I get from the Village the taller the trees grow, and the less the sun, now sitting high in the sky, illuminates the forest floor. Instead streamers of light penetrate the dense canopy, dappling the undergrowth with spots of light. Beneath the bushes dangerous beasts prowl in the shadows, waiting to snack on the unwary. I don't really expect to be attacked - a substantial part of my fathers job as a hunter is to keep the woods near the town swept clear of anything truly dangerous to a wary hunter - but caution has been drummed into my head more times than I can count. No longer can I afford to idly snack as I walk, instead holding my fathers spear in both hands, ready to use at a moments notice. Respect for the wild is a defining feature of civilization on the frontier.

I make my way up the creek, sometimes following it, sometimes seeking easier routes through the underbrush, but always away from the river. Up and down I go, over rocks and under branches, but generally uphill. Eventually I reach the spring that feeds the creek, cold melt water from the mountains to the north seeping out of the rocks at the bottom of a crystal clear pond. I watch for a long moment at the edge of the water, but nothing stirs in the depths. The banks rustle with insects and small creatures, but nothing larger moves among the reeds. Only once I am satisfied that I am alone at the pond do I bend to take a drink. This is the edge of the land the village hunters keep clear, a full days walk from the village. This is the furthest I am allowed to roam alone, the limit of where those without Skills to protect themselves can safely roam.

But the sun has started its decent below the horizon, the rays of light that make it through the canopy falling on the tree trunks rather than the forest floor. Soon night will fall, and the night is no time for me to be out and about this far from the safety offered by the villages sturdy stone walls. Instead I climb a tree, looking for a good spot to spend the night in safety, if not in comfort. After quickly scaling an enormous Copperwood tree, I climb around the canopy for a few minutes before finding a serviceable hollow, where two upwards sloping branches erupt from the trunk at almost the same point. Despite being fairly low in the branches of this forest giant, it is still more than fifty strides to the ground. The tree top looms for two hundred more strides above me, the brilliant green summer leaves just starting to be flecked with the orange leaves of fall. Here in the relative safety of the branches I eat a cold meal of cheese and travel bread from my supplies, arrange a blanket as a cushion to sit on, and wrap myself in my cloak to watch the sun set.

I sleep lightly, back against the trunk and spear across my lap, but none of the creatures I can hear moving in the dark approach me. In the morning the songbirds wake me, their raucous twittering coming with the pre dawn light to the branches around me. I pack my "camp" swiftly, and climb carefully down the trunk, careful not to slip on the morning dew.

I eat another cold meal from my travel rations, then search the edge of the pond for the tracks that inspired this trip. I was here five days ago, on one of my regular foraging expeditions, and saw an enormous paw print, down by the waters edge. The tracks told the story of a gigantic tiger, come down to the waters edge for a drink. The prints followed a game trail that meandered in from the north, then left again by the same trail. Geared as I was for gathering alchemy ingredients, not hunting things that hunt you back, I hurried home immediately. When I got home, I went looking for my father, to tell him of the prints as I have so many times before. But my father was already away on a trip, following the trail of a pack of Frost Wolves whose territory had shifted too close to the village for comfort. Something stopped me from bringing it to one of the other hunters, just the seed of an idea that took root in my brain. As I thought about it some more that seed grew quickly into a plan.

While large predators where firmly in the "get an adult involved" territory, I am *almost* an adult myself. In two tendays I will turn fifteen, and become an adult under the Law.

Wouldn't it be great to attend my Awakening ceremony wearing the pelt of a tiger that I hunted all by myself. I can just image the rare Classes and Skills that I would unlock for my extraordinary achievement. The looks of surprise on the faces of the village elders, and awe on the other children. I would be a Hero out of the stories of old, like one of the brave souls that carved out humanities place in this harsh wilderness. All I had to do was go out and kill a tiger.

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But the hunting of Tigers, and other large predators, is restricted to adults for a reason - and even then only done by qualified hunters. Their Stats, Skills and Classes are absolutely necessary to fight a forest tiger one on one in its home territory. To make up for my lack of... *well all of that*… I had to make a plan. I would set a trap, two traps actually, one on top of the other. Together they would catch the Tiger and hold it in place, hopefully killing it outright. If it didn't die right away, no big deal. I would be safely out of the way, high in a tree watching over the tiger while it struggles to escape, only descending once it had bled out. Totally foolproof. The only reason I even brought one of my fathers enchanted spears is as a back up, the enchanted tip capable of cutting through Tier One and Tier Two materials like butter. Even Tier Three materials would only slow the spelled blade for a moment. If I needed to defend myself or my kill, or just finish off a trapped tiger, the spear should be more than sufficient.

But first I have to find the beast. There are no tracks by the spring today, not for Tigers, anyway. I keep my eyes peeled and spear ready I follow the game trails north. I don't really expect to see the Tiger out and about during the day - they are mostly nocturnal hunters - but other beasts still stalk in these woods. I follow the little paths through the trees, tracking this way and that, always working my way northward, until I start to find tiger tracks. I don't find many, just partial impressions and claw marks, but they are even bigger than I remembered.

The largest tiger I have ever seen was almost five strides in length, hunted by my dad and his hunting party last year. This one looks even bigger, maybe six or seven strides in length. It is difficult to tell, as many of the tracks are alone, with no prints nearby to give them context. That should have been my first clue, a hint that maybe I didn't have enough information, but in my ignorance I pressed on, looking for a good spot to set my traps.

By the time night falls again I am once more safely perched in a tree. This time an ordinary oak, a bare fifteen strides from the ground. Below me, hanging from a rope, is a fresh deer carcass, drip, drip, dripping blood onto the leaves below. The deer is both bait and cover, attracting the tiger and masking my scent on the ground below.

The sky is clear tonight, the moon nearly full as it lights up the forest. I wait patiently spear in hand, eyes peeled, for the tiger to come creeping through the moon beams, looking for a snack. But my ears provide the only warning, as a hush sweeps through the forest ahead of this apex predator. I do not see the cat until it appears right below me, coiled to leap.

My first thought - "Oh shit" - is followed immediately by the panicked realization that my trap isn't large enough. Before I can even blink the tiger is airborne, claws outstretched, and grabbing the deer. At almost eight stride in length and two strides across at the shoulder, it is far larger than any I have ever seen, or even heard of. Its enormous weight hangs on the deer for a moment, bending the branch, then the knot gives way, as it was designed to do. Then the tiger is falling, not even that far, less than twice its body length unto the covered pit I had dug under the bait.

It crashes through the leaves and branches, onto the sharpened stakes below. The beast lets out an ear splitting roar as the sharp points punch into its flesh. Then the second part of the trap falls onto it, a sharpened log released by the same knot that hung the deer. It hits almost dead center of the pit, about the middle of the Tigers back, and punches in with a meaty thud. For a moment the great beast is still.

Then, to my horror, the tiger starts to rise. It snarls as it pulls itself of the spikes below, then gives itself a shake as it throws of the dropped log. Before it can leap out of the pit, before I have time to think about how bad of an idea this is I am already moving, starting backup plan three, what to do if the trap doesn't kill it. Unfortunately, I never planned for the Tiger to be mobile, never planned for the tiger to be totally un-phased by the injuries inflicted on it. But it it too late for thought now, I am already falling, spearpoint first onto the back of the monster. That moment is burned into my memory, a snapshot from above the tiger, spearpoint gleaming in the moonlight. The silver moonlight has washed all the color from the tiger, leaving only glimmers and shadows behind.

The enchanted metal spear manages what the wooden spikes could not. I hang on desperately to the shaft as the spearhead hangs for a moment, enchantments flaring brilliant gold, before it punches deep into the tigers back. I hit just about where I aimed, in the gap between the shoulder blade and the spine, just above the heart. The snarling beast goes instantly quiet as my weight slams it back onto the spikes underneath. Again the beast is still for a moment, and I think for a moment that I have killed it, that in spite of its monstrous size and power, my plan had somehow worked.

Then, in a moment frozen in time, a ripple appears. It starts at the back of the tiger's neck and spreads out as a circle of purple and blue. It sweeps outward, accelerating as it goes, along the body to the beast. Inside the line the tiger is no longer visible, only an endless field of stars. When it reaches my spear it doesn't stop, sweeping up the haft to cover my hands. Before I can move, or think, or breathe, there is a dizzying yank, and everything goes black.