Chapter 17

Today was the morning of my thirteenth birthday, and I was walking confidently into the inn. It was pretty packed, a lot of folks that lived down the forest roads came into town to sell their wares or crops during Harvestfest so the inn was always full at this time of year. As such, it was pretty loud in here, but, as I entered, most of the conversations died down, and their gazes were drawn to me in interest. I heard whispers start up in my wake as I walked through the tables to the two young men at the one in the back corner.

“The Bloody Hunter,” I heard a few whisper to their companions as I walked through the inn. My large expensive pack was hanging over my shoulder as usual. It was the first time some of them were seeing me, though apparently they’d heard of me. I picked out the word, “Scars,” whispered a couple of times as well amidst their quiet mutters. “Smaller than I’d thought he’d be,” I heard from one man behind me.

Killing that bear earlier this year had earned me the nickname, but my notoriety stemmed more from the rumors, rumors that anyone that tried to kill me was killed by beasts, or simply disappeared never to be heard from again. The town was missing more than a dozen of its less scrupulous members this year, and since some of them had mentioned their intention to hunt down my camp and put an end to me in order to help themselves to my silver…Well, folks had drawn their own conclusions. Quite correctly as it happened.

My pit traps hadn’t failed me yet, and every so often I’d hear someone cursing in pain in the night. I’d make my way out to find someone armed with a bow or an axe usually. They’d have a leg stuck in a trap, bleeding profusely. Having lived in the town, I knew the men who had come for me, and knew what kind of people they were. Trash, all of them. I’d keep my distance and attack from behind, hitting them in the skull with a rock from my sling to knock them out, if not killing them outright, then I’d close the distance and unceremoniously slit their throats to be sure they were dead. I’d dragged most of their corpses near the road and left them for the wolves, the rest I’d dragged to the river and left for the crocs. I'd stopped using the crocs though after nearly becoming a meal myself once. The latter group of corpses were the people that simply disappeared as far as the town was concerned.

I’d never been questioned about it and never brought it up myself. People had the right to defend themselves and their property when they were in the forest. Folks that lived down the forest road to the east and west of town had this problem themselves occasionally as well. Sometimes you’d hear of a farm that had its inhabitants simply disappear, but just as often troublemakers that turned bandit, however briefly, would disappear themselves. You had to be pretty tough to live outside of town where the only people you could count on were the ones you lived with. Almost no one lived alone like I did, there was strength in numbers, and many large families were extremely tight knit for just this reason.

I got to the table at the back corner of the inn to find Knick and Hammer looking up at me expectantly. “Sorry I’m late,” I rasped, pulling out a chair. I spun the chair around and straddled it with my back to the wall as I dropped my pack on the floor behind me.

“Nah, we just got here,” said Knick, unconcerned, his chair leaning back against the other wall, his feet crossed up on the table, and his hands behind his head.

Hammer looked around. “You’re getting a bit famous these days, Hunter. I hear Norbert is making good coin just by letting folks know the fur and leather he’s selling them came from you.”

I shrugged, “Good for him, means he has more coin for me.”

The innkeeper made his way over. “Can I get you young gents anything?” he asked with an obsequious smile.

I flicked a silver coin spinning in a high parabola at him without looking and rasped, “Round of drinks for me and my friends.”

“Right away, Mister Hunter,” he responded, making his way back to the bar.

Knick had followed the silver coin with his eyes, “Looks like you’re doing pretty well for yourself these days, didn’t get that silver from Grandfather.”

I shrugged again, “I sell a LOT of skins these days. Don’t know what to do with all the money I’ve got, so I’m just kinda hoarding it at this point, call it an emergency fund. Doesn’t hurt that I can afford whatever I want in town," I glanced down at my brand new boots, "but I pretty much already have everything I need, so it’s starting to pile up.”

“I know what you mean,” said Hammer. “Started doing my own pieces this year in my off time, and I’ve been putting together a nice little nest egg myself. Can’t think of anything to spend it on though really.” He smiled, “Although I did use some of it for a birthday present for you two.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Ah, great minds think alike. I’ve got some presents here for you guys as well.”

“Same,” said Knick laconically. He reached behind the small of his back, pulling out a couple of knives, and tossed one in front of each of us. The one in front of Hammer was extremely large, reminiscent of a bowie knife with a bone handle that appeared to be a human femur. Not sure I want to know where Knick got that. Hammer gripped it by the handle and pulled it from a leather sheath that sported two loops of leather coming off the flat back of the sheath, apparently it was intended to be worn horizontally on the back of a belt. The ball of bone from the femur extended out past his pinky and would probably offer a little protection to his hand. The handle was a little too big even for HIS large hand though. Knick saw me looking, “I figured, as he’s a gigantic fucker, he’ll probably grow some more yet so I made it a little big so it’ll still fit him when he’s grown in a few years.” The blade showed wavy carbon lines reminiscent of damascus steel from back on earth.

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“Smart,” I said, taking a look at mine in its simple black leather sheath. It appeared to be about the same size as Knick and Cutter’s primary blades that they each wore on their right thighs. The handle was black varnished wood with a white bone disc inlaid in the center of each side.The bone discs had been carved to resemble a simple face, laughing hysterically, with a black half circle of wood showing through to form the mouth and thin, curved slits to indicate closed, upturned eyes. I snorted in amusement, “Love the decoration.” I pulled the knife from the sheath. I’d been expecting a simple blade like the one Knick himself favored, but it was a weaving sinuous blade with a groove running up two thirds of the blade on one side. It had that same signature damascus steel look that all of Cutter’s and Knick’s blades sported. I raised an eyebrow in surprise. I hadn’t seen anything like it in town before.

Knick smiled at my reaction, “Grandfather’s suggestion. It’s a type of knife used by high ranking soldiers in Califond, the country to the east. A ‘snake blade,’ he called it. Grandfather says it might surprise someone you were fighting and give you an edge, he knows how much you like surprising your opponents. Apparently they like to line the groove with poison, there’s none in it now though,” he shrugged. "I know how to make the blade, not the poison."

I laughed, “As usual, Cutter is exactly right. I love it.”

The innkeep stopped back at the table and set down three large foaming mugs, obviously interested in our conversation, and looking closely at our new knives. “Anything else, gents?”

I glared at him, “Yeah, fuck off. We’re in the middle of talkin’ business here and it’s none of yours,” I rasped at him, annoyed, and going back to examining my new knife.

The mayor grimaced for a moment before quickly painting a congenial smile back on his face and nodding, making his way back to the bar without another word.

Following his departure, Hammer tossed a leather pouch in front of each of us. Knick took his feet off the table, his chair thunking back onto all four legs as he leaned forward to open it. I did the same. Strung on a black leather thong were the death panther claws I’d given him last year, each black claw was separated by a cylindrical silver bead, shining brightly. There were eight claws on mine, six on Knick’s.

“Whoa, cool,” breathed Knick, reverently. I had to agree. This was VERY cool. Hammer pulled a matching necklace out from under his shirt. His had six claws and looked just like Knick’s. Theirs both incorporated two of the shorter thumb claws, one on each side, mine was eight long matched claws.

“Damn, Hammer, silver beads? Those must have been crazy expensive.” I said quietly, obviously impressed.

Hammer snorted, “Not compared to the claws they’re not. I was offered no less than five silver for any one of them, and by more than one person. Besides,” he shrugged, “I just heated and hammered a silver coin into each bead. It’s like I said, I’ve got more silver than I know what to do with myself these days, so I’ve kinda been playing around with it a bit.” Knick and I slipped them over our heads. I looked at the necklace hanging high on Knick's chest.

“Pretty badass looking,” I said appreciatively. Knick nodded in agreement. “Dunno if I can match this knife and necklace, but…” I reached down into my pack and pulled out a large brown bundle of fur and set it in front of Hammer, then retrieved a smaller white bundle of fur and set it in front of Knick. “Not much metal to be had out in the forest, but there’s a lot of fur if you know where to look. Had Norbert help me out with these.”

Hammer unrolled the bundle revealing that it was a large bear skin cloak, edged in jet black panther fur. Hammer looked at the hood and laughed, “Ears?” he asked incredulously, and started laughing in earnest. As he’d noticed, I’d incorporated the bear's big round ears into the top of the hood. People often commented on the ears on mine so I figured I’d go for a distinctive look.

Knick unrolled his to find that it was a large, primarily white, wolfskin cloak, also edged in jet black death panther fur, complimenting a black streak down the center of the back. The hood on his was almost more of a built in hat made from the wolf’s head. I’d used some lightweight wood to give the upper jaw and forehead more definition and rigidity and had laboriously replaced the teeth from the wolf into it, giving the impression it was snarling fearsomely. Not that I would tell them, but it was actually a failed attempt at taxidermy. The eyes had been replaced with smooth, dark red stones that I’d carefully gathered from the river’s edge, giving it a somewhat demonic cast.

“Whoa, cool,” said Knick, again. It was exactly the same words and tone he’d used for Hammer’s gift but I could tell he’d meant it both times. He immediately wrapped it around his shoulders and pulled up the hood. Scary. I had nailed it. He pulled the cloak’s wooden toggle through the corresponding hole on the other side and settled it around himself. It fit perfectly, I thought proudly.

Hammer pulled his around his shoulders as well. It didn’t fit him nearly as well as Knick’s. It had a bunched up extra fold hanging from his shoulders going partway down his back. I’d figured if he ends up as big as his father he’ll need to let it out. Hammer pulled the hood up over his head. Knick and I immediately started laughing at him. It was a singularly dopey look on him. Some of the nearby patrons were snickering as well.

“Sorry Hammer, yours apparently didn’t come out quite as well as Knick’s. It looks…interesting on you,” I snickered. Hammer sighed and pulled the hood back. It didn’t look TOO bad, without the hood anyway.

“At least it’s warm,” he muttered, causing Knick and me to crack up laughing again.

“Look at it this way, Hammer,” said Knick, “At least people will underestimate your intelligence when you’re wearing it,” We started laughing at him again, at which Hammer just sighed with a wry smile.

I held up my mug and they matched me, “Happy birthday, guys!” I toasted raspily.