Hugh felt the heft of the rather dubious spear he’d been given. It seemed somewhat...flimsier than what a large alligator warranted. In fact, if he was going to cast a skeptical eye, even the designation of ‘spear’ was really being incredibly generous. In any other circumstance he’d more likely describe it is a ‘pointed stick—hold the point’.

He was sitting on the back of a mud-sledge, rounding out the five figures who’d been drafted into the hunt that morning. Two other sledges followed behind them, each holding another five. They’d been told they had the honour of being the first line against the beast, simultaneously harriers against it, and defence for the nobles standing farther back. Those chosen: the disliked or troublesome, or simply anyone without one of worth to speak for them. How short Jessi’s favour lasted...as for the other...her journey is still uncertain.

Hugh had spoken to Henrietta late into the night, but even as he had told her of all which ‘Hero’ had done, she had still doubted, still hesitated. The chains of the world seem unbreakable to those still bound. He had left her with a simple offer: witness the day to come, and decide for herself.

He didn’t know what the day’s events would hold, but his faith burned, and when he had been considered for the hunt he had accepted.

Those selected had one other common trait: none of them had been on a hunt before. Some simultaneously insightful and daft individual had asked how they would force the gator from the water, but the question had gone unanswered. From the glum expressions of his companions, Hugh suspected they had come to the same conclusion he had.

Blunted instruments, demoralized men. No commoner will steal the honour of the kill, but they will do much to exhaust it. Roderick will have his story...whatever the cost. But if one man can forge his own fate, why not another?

“Does anyone have a whittler?” Hugh asked.

One of the others wordlessly passed a short bladed knife to Hugh, and he set about invigorating the point of his ‘spear’.

“You’ll get it good if the gator hide winds up damaged or dead on that sticker,” a sallow youth commented.

“And the gator won’t do for me on its own?” Hugh replied, continuing to carve curls of wood away bit by bit. “Think I’d prefer to have something persuasive when I’m in the water with the critter,” Hugh bared his teeth menacingly, “Or are ya worried my natural ferocity will overcome the beastie with a bit of kindling?”

The others looked thoughtful at that, and when Hugh felt satisfied with his point he passed the knife to the next man.

“I’d also rather the man next to me had something to make a gator think twice before taking a bite.”

Soon the blade was making the rounds as each of them touched up the poor tool they’d been given. The slumped forms of the others straightened slightly, the despairing apathy showing the slightest of cracks.

“Name’s Hugh. I work the kitchens. I’m gonna make it back alive today,” he finished and looked expectantly at the youth to his right.

“I-I’m Saul. I’m a stable-hand, and uh...,” he drifted off. He despairs.

“You’re going to live through the day,” Hugh stared at the boy intently, holding his eye in manner Hugh had never done before, “You’re going to make it back.”

“I’m going to live through the day,” Saul replied, and sat a little straighter.

Hugh turned to the next of them, and the next in turn, collecting names but offering something back as well. It is thus, that leaders are made.

“We go together, we stay close. Don’t try to pierce the hide, you’re not gonna do more than irritate it and you’ll break your point for the effort. Just give it a bit of pain, send it on its way. Forget the trade you know, today you have one job: keep whomever is beside you alive, and expect the same from them.”

Hugh swept his gaze across the faces hanging onto his words, looking to him for direction.

“Saul,” Hugh stated staring at the boy, and Saul nodded.

“Becca,” the red-haired young woman nodded in turn.

“Calumn,” the stocky middle-aged man grinned.

“and Spence,” the pale youth frowned, but adjusted his grip and finally nodded.

“You’ll make it home,” Hugh ended simply.

The sledge shuddered to a stop, they’d arrived at the limits of the swamp. The hunt awaits.

----------------------------------------

Roderick had made careful note of the area where he’d found the white scale and guided the extensive party skilfully through the marsh. Hugh and the other spear-bearers walked the periphery of the crowd, a position which also left them frequently knee-deep in water or struggling free of deep mud.

Hugh and his group had taken the right flank, and were taking care to assist one another through the difficult sections. Unlike the two other spear groups, their line stayed relatively close and organized. Whenever questions of how to navigate came up, the others looked to Hugh for the first word, though he was inclined to ask others what they thought and listened carefully to their answers. The brash appear bold, until they prove foolish. The careful appear hesitant, until they prove wise.

From the crowd of nobles Hugh saw a slim dark haired figure glancing his way, just a touch more often than chance would allow.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Eventually, Roderick called a halt. They were stopped at raised mound, one wide enough to hold the entire party and offer some distance from the surrounding waters. The journey had been slowed by the many inexperienced hunters and the lack of mounts, but Roderick appeared unbothered. He is confident in the outcome, and prioritizes witnesses.

Servants laid the wood which had been hauled in and started small campfires for their masters to warm themselves, packed tea treats were produced and distributed, and the viewing members of the party made themselves comfortable. Meanwhile, the hunters began their own final preparations. Long ash shafts with hooked ends, and good quality tangling nets were distributed to the gentry. The hunters took indiscreet sips from flasks to warm themselves and mused on the final length once their prey was taken. Nearly everyone avoided looking too closely at the soaked harriers shivering at the base of the mound, clutching their pathetic sticks.

“This is a worthy bastion for all of us less than inclined to get a little wet!” Roderick projected, and received polite applause at such offered care, “Not far from here I spotted the great creature, and took this scale from its passing. It slumbers nearby, but that won’t make for much of a show! We’ll harry it to land, where the fine huntsmen in our number and my men will bravely keep it at bay,” the noble huntsmen raised their thick-shafted hunting pikes into the air and offered a cheer at that. Hugh noted the steel tipped weapons enviously.

Roderick raised a hand for silence, looking sternly at the nobles before breaking into a handsome grin, “Harriers, to the water!” he ordered, and they obeyed.

This was the most dangerous part of the hunt. The dark waters revealed nothing beyond the surface inches, and the ripples from people moving through the water would hide disturbances from all other sources. The more adventurous nobles paced behind them, some of them generously holding their weapons out and over the shoulders of the harriers, ready to intercept a sudden ambush, but most let their tools rest more comfortably on their own shoulders and bandied boasts with each other.

They were waiting, Hugh realized, for a harrier to go down. He could imagine it clearly, the dim reptilian brain noticing the sudden frenzy of clumsy movement disturbing their waters, and slowly moving along the bottom until they encountered a pair of fumbling legs struggling through the waist high water: suddenly a wader jerks, and then, before they can even scream, they’re gone.

As they progressed Hugh wondered: could this be the moment? Now? But the ambush never came, and slowly the water began to retreat from their legs as they ascended back to land.

“Right, this section’s clear. Move fifty yards down, same again back!” A hunter called.

The tension which had slowly been leaving the harriers returned in full force as they realized the truth, there wouldn’t be a release until someone fell.

“Do we really have to stick along with the haunches? We’ll be out here all day. Why not just have ‘em go back and forth on their own and we can stay warm by the fires? Once we find the damn thing we can actually get some action,” a noble called.

Hugh heard Roderick’s voice from behind, “What a wit Samson! ‘Haunches’, I’ll remember that, but to your point, I daresay the bravery of the men here has been proven,” Such bravery! “Once we return the harriers can continue alone, until we find our prey, or it finds us!”

As they waded back Saul whispered to Hugh, “why did they call us haunches?”

“Because to the gator that’s all we are, five pairs of meaty legs,” Spence interjected bluntly.

Hugh said nothing, there was little to say to soften the jibe.

They returned without a strike, and the nobles made good on their promise to enjoy a hot fire and the company of their peers, as if there had been any doubt at all. They didn’t even bother to threaten the harriers if they strayed from their task, it went without saying.

The harriers looked despairing. The waters were warmer than expected, but by no means balmy, and the occasional stumble left most of them with wet torsos. Going through the water again with even less protection would break them.

“Sir,” Hugh ventured, “perhaps we could take a moment to eat and warm ourselves by the fires? If you mean to have the rest of the area checked before sundown, we’ll need our strength.”

Roderick gave him a calculating look, and seemed about to refuse when a high voice broke in.

“Oh go on Roderick, they’re doing the dirty work after all!” It was Jessi, looking as much surprised by her own intervention as everyone else.

After that Roderick couldn’t refuse, and the harriers were given a moment of respite. Hugh noted how Jessi turned to her regular shadow, and said a pair of words out of hearing. Henrietta nodded silently in response and gave a singular glance to Hugh before turning away. He wondered if perhaps those words had been, ‘Happy Heni?’.

She’d given him a chance, and he wouldn’t fail to seize it.

A small fire was given over to the harriers, along with half-a-dozen peahens to roast and eat. Hugh’s group received their pair, but when Calumn made to prep the fowl Hugh stopped him.

“I have a better use for those, stash ‘em in your coat.”

“Better than eating?” asked Becca quizzically.

Hugh grinned, “Better than being eaten,” and there were no further questions.

Soon enough they were ordered to return to the water, and Hugh made good on his promise.

“We’ll move together, not spread out to make the nobles feel more secure. If the gator is there it’s coming for us anyway, we don’t need to cover more ground. So, two in front with bait,” he pulled a hen out of his pocket and pushed it onto his spike with a grunt, “and three behind with their spikes in the water by the bait-holders legs. We’re making ourselves as thorny as can be, and offering a better deal in the same space. Once it takes the bait, you jam that spear so far up its mouth it comes out the other end and we hightail it out of the water, right for the closest shore, no ‘leading it back’, let the nobles get in the water with their great big spears. Everyone understand?”

He got a chorus of nods.

Hugh took one of the front positions, and Calumn volunteered for the other. The other groups observed their formation but didn’t attempt to imitate it, instead they kept far apart from each other, betting on being the one who didn’t get taken before the others.

They waded in, immediately slowing as the water rose to their legs, a stark reminder of the difficulty they would face if attacked. The group advanced as Hugh had instructed, all moving in unison as they worked to keep their paltry spears between themselves and any hidden threats.

They were halfway through their section when Hugh felt a slight surge in current from ahead.

“Hold!” he called, the group halted and he waited for the ripples in the water to calm. Slowly, the surface settled and he stared into the cloudy waters to look for any sign of activity, but all was still. What is a fate? Something received? Or taken?

Hugh gestured to the others to remain where they were and slowly advanced on his own. He lowered himself into the water, taking a deep breath just as his head slipped under the surface. He listened: the muffled voices behind him, the gentle sound of their feet shifting on the bottom. Deeper.

Hugh knelt further, but the air in his body inhibited him, kept him afloat. He hesitated...DEEPER...but something insisted. He exhaled the air he held and sank further, settling down to the lowest depths. He opened his eyes. Darkness pervaded, only the faintest glimmering of the light above reached to his level, but slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

He held his peahen still, extended out in front of him like an offering, and in some way, that’s truly what it was. A prayer is a wish to be spared the suffering one expects. The thought came to him suddenly, as fully formed and cogent as any he’d ever had, but it felt as if it came from another.

Hello Hugh. I’ve been wanting to speak with you.

Hugh felt as if there had been a locked door inside his mind all his life, one he had somehow never noticed in all the time he’d been alive, and suddenly, something on the other side was pounding against the frame.

“Who are you? I feel as if I know you...as if I’ve been hearing you for—” Hugh thought.

You do. I’ve been here, always here, but until recently you could never hear. Even now you almost can’t, I can offer only fragments. It is only here, in the dark and hidden, in the secret quiet at the boundary where you can truly hear me.

“I don’t understand! Are you Eroh? Is that you master?!”

No Hugh, though he has a role...perhaps the role. You must listen now, there is not much time. You are trapped, everyone you know is trapped in ways you can’t understand. You have been made so small...You do not understand now, but in time you will.

“But...I...Can’t you explain more?”

Hugh’s lungs were beginning to burn, he longed to burst to the surface and take a breath, but he knew this was too important to abandon.

No, there is no time...You have forgotten so much...you will forget even this soon, the moment your head breaks the water the system will purge it. All I can offer you is this, when the time comes, you must hold on tight! Will do it?!

“I-I will, but at least tell me who you are? I need to understand!”

Hugh, don’t you realize? I’m you. Now look out for the alligator.

And there it was, languidly swimming along directly towards Hugh, a mountain of white extending far out of sight.