The Pale Hunter perched on a thick branch, high above the snowy ground. Snowflakes clung to its pale skin. Its black claws dug into the bark. Wind rattled the canopy. The Pale Hunter remained still. It listened.

Metal clashed somewhere ahead. Two voices rose above the groaning trees. One voice sounded deep and ragged. The other was lighter but rasping. The Pale Hunter caught the distinct smell of iron in the air. Human blood.

It crawled along the branch, moving one limb after the other. Its bones did not creak. Its weight did not bend the wood. The Pale Hunter paused and inhaled. The blood was fresh. It picked up the scent of sweat too. Heated breath, frenzied movement.

The Pale Hunter leapt to another branch. Its long limbs gripped the trunk. From there, it peered down. Through a tangle of smaller boughs, it saw them.

Two humans stood in a clearing. The first was tall and lean. It wore strips of animal hide over its body, along with some overlapping hard plates on its shoulders and arms. The second was slightly shorter, covered in heavier armor, with a padded cloak draped over its back. Both dripped blood onto the snow.

The tall one gripped a slender weapon with a thin edge. Its arms shook whenever it swung. Its breathing was harsh. The shorter one gripped a heavier weapon, broad and chipped, with half of its length stained red. The shorter one’s left arm hung limp at its side. A cut ran along that arm’s length, leaking drops onto the ground.

They circled each other. Frost clung to their hair. Their eyes were wide, scanning for a gap in the other’s stance. A deep groan slipped from the tall one’s throat. The shorter one coughed. Neither looked up at the trees.

The Pale Hunter watched. Their struggle stirred something in its mind. This was not the first time it had seen humans fight each other. It remembered glimpses of many hunts. But those memories were hazy. It only knew that, when humans bled, it fed.

Hunger flared within its stomach. A persistent emptiness. It had devoured two humans before leaving its den, but that meal felt distant. The hunger was deeper now, more urgent. The Pale Hunter flexed its talons. It observed the humans from above. They were moving unpredictably, swinging and dodging, each step sending flecks of blood onto the snow.

The tall one swiped its slender weapon in an arc. The shorter one parried with the broad blade. A clang rang out, echoing across the clearing. Sparks flickered. The tall one staggered back, favoring its right leg. The shorter one pressed forward, weapon raised. Its breath came in ragged bursts, forming white puffs in the air.

They clashed again. The tall one snarled and forced the shorter one to step back. Snow kicked up around them. The shorter one’s boots slipped, nearly losing footing. The tall one tried to lunge, but pain flashed across its features. It froze, gripping its side. Blood stained the hide around its ribs.

The Pale Hunter waited. It eyed the angle between the trees. A direct leap might land it on one of them. But they still moved too much. A poorly timed ambush could lead to a wild slash. The Pale Hunter disliked direct conflict when it could be avoided. Quick kills were safer.

The shorter one pressed its advantage. Its broad weapon came down in a vicious chop. The tall one caught it with its slender blade. Another shriek of metal. The tall one’s face twisted. Its teeth bared. It tried to push the shorter one away. The shorter one used its weight, shoving forward.

They locked weapons. Their bodies shook. The tall one’s slender blade cracked under the pressure. A sudden snap rang out. The tall one lurched. The broad blade came in, slicing across the tall one’s midsection. A thick spurt of red sprayed out.

The tall human staggered back and dropped to one knee. Its eyes bulged. It pressed a trembling hand against the wound. The shorter human clenched its teeth. The weapon clutched in its hands rose again, but a cough rattled its chest. Blood flecked its lips. The shorter human spat crimson onto the ground.

The Pale Hunter tensed, readying itself. Both humans were slowed. Both were too weak to flee with any real speed. The Pale Hunter wanted them alive for at least a moment. It liked warm meat.

Below, the shorter human advanced. The tall one lifted a feeble arm, broken blade still in hand. Their eyes met in grim finality. The tall one bared its teeth and tried to stand. It managed only a slight wobble before collapsing forward.

The shorter one grunted and swung the broad weapon. The tall one’s head jerked to the side. Wet sounds followed. Then the tall human slumped face-first in the snow, blood streaming into the white drifts.

The shorter human stood there, panting in shallow bursts. It lowered its weapon, letting the tip rest on the ground. Steam wafted from the open wounds across its body. One deep cut marred its thigh. Another slick gash crossed its shoulder. The Pale Hunter smelled the metallic tang of fresh blood swirling in the air. The human’s eyelids drooped. Its chest heaved. It took one shaky step, then another. It looked around, scanning for threats. It did not lift its gaze upward.

The Pale Hunter crawled sideways on the branch. Its limbs moved with careful precision. The shorter human turned its head one way, then the other. It wiped blood from its mouth with the back of its gauntlet. The Pale Hunter bared its teeth.

It leapt.

It landed in the snow behind the shorter human. A burst of powder lifted into the air. The shorter human whipped around, eyes widening. Its lips parted, but no scream came. The Pale Hunter sprang forward, claws spread. The human tried to raise the broad weapon. It was too slow.

Black talons sank into the metal plates on the human’s arm. Screeching metal gave way. Blood oozed from beneath. The human’s face twisted. A guttural howl burst from its throat. It tried to swing the broad blade anyway, but its arm trembled. The Pale Hunter felt the rush of air as the weapon passed too wide.

The Pale Hunter snapped its jaws and tore into the gap between the plates on the human’s shoulder. Its long, jagged teeth found flesh. The taste of blood and muscle filled its mouth. Warm fluid trickled down its chin. The human gasped. Its arms flailed. It dropped the weapon in the snow.

A meaty fist pounded at the Pale Hunter’s head. Another hammered against its ribs. The hits were frantic, fueled by terror. They left shallow bruises, but did not break the Pale Hunter’s hold. The creature growled deep in its throat. It tightened its bite. The human released another ragged cry and sank to one knee. Its gaze flickered to the side, searching for something. A smaller weapon, perhaps, hidden under its belt.

The Pale Hunter smelled fresh fear in the air. It recognized the wild, desperate thrashing of prey. The human’s hand darted to its hip, fumbling at a small sheath. The Pale Hunter did not give it a chance. It yanked backward, snapping the joint in the human’s shoulder with a wet pop.

A raw scream tore from the human’s lips. Its free hand scrambled for the Pale Hunter’s face, but found only clammy, pale skin. Its fingers tried to gouge an eye, but the Pale Hunter jerked its head aside. A black talon raked across the human’s helmet, carving a deep groove in the metal. Sparks danced briefly.

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A final crash sent them both tumbling. The human collapsed onto its back. Blood matted its hair and dripped onto its cheeks. The Pale Hunter landed atop the human’s chest, pinning it with spindly limbs. The human’s left arm hung useless. The right arm clawed at the ground, looking for a grip on the blade it had dropped. It came up empty-handed.

The Pale Hunter sank its teeth deeper. It chewed at the tender sinew. The human thrashed weakly. Its eyes grew unfocused. Then they rolled back. The Pale Hunter felt the twitch of life fading beneath it. The hunger roared in its belly.

It could not feast here, not out in the open. The smell of blood would spread. Larger predators might come. The Pale Hunter had no real fear of lesser beasts, but apex hunters roamed these woods. Some creatures, like Dogmen or Giants, could kill even something like the Pale Hunter if given the chance.

Still, the Pale Hunter needed to eat. Now. A compromise. It bared its fangs and ripped a chunk from the human’s collar. Blood sprayed. The Pale Hunter swallowed. Warmth slid down its throat.

A faint flutter still came from the human’s heart. The Pale Hunter placed a claw against the chest and felt the trembling beat. It leaned down, tore open the human’s face, and drank in the rushing blood. A low shudder rattled the human’s body. Then it went limp.

+100 Exp!

Level Up!

You are now a level 3 (Cursed Undead, Wendigo)!

+5 Points!

Those strange symbols appeared in the Pale Hunter’s mind again. It blinked, feeling a small surge of warmth in its limbs.

Now it was level 3, or so the symbols implied. More points to distribute.

Name: N/A

Race: Cursed Undead, Wendigo, Level 3

Class/es: Necromancer (level 1), Assassin (level 1)

Experience: 0/300

Endurance – 0

Strength – 0

Dexterity – 5

Willpower – 0

Spirit – 0

5 Points Left to Spend

The Pale Hunter paused, half-buried in the human’s chest cavity. It tried to recall how it spent those points before. Last time, it chose speed. That speed had served it well. Maybe more speed would serve it again. Or maybe it needed more strength or something else.

It considered its options–which of them would serve it best… it was better to be patient, for now, and decide later.

Its black eyes roamed over the bloodied snow.

The tall human lay crumpled ten steps away. That one was already dead. The shorter one’s body remained under its claws, half-consumed. The Pale Hunter’s gaze flicked from the corpses to the trees beyond.

Movement. Far off, the forest stirred. A snap of twigs. A faint rustle of leaves. The Pale Hunter lifted its head. Droplets of blood dripped from its maw. It sniffed. The smell was old pine. Wood and bark. No fresh blood there. Perhaps a small animal. It smelled no other humans.

For now, the Pale Hunter could feast. It tore into the human’s flesh, savoring the wet crunch of bone. It devoured organs that still pulsed with leftover heat. The snow beneath the body turned slushy and red. The Pale Hunter used one black talon to keep the chest cavity open, letting it scoop out bits of muscle. Its jaw worked, cheeks bulging. Streaks of gore covered its chin.

As it ate, it felt that surge again. Another wave of heat. More lines in its vision. Another message.

+20 Exp!

It had not realized the kill could grant more. The Pale Hunter did not dwell on it. It only knew that more humans meant more strength. Killing them meant growth, and growth meant easier hunts.

The Pale Hunter wiped its claws in the snow to clear away the slickest pieces of gore. It rose and stalked toward the tall human’s body. That one had bled out. Its slender weapon lay snapped beside it. The Pale Hunter squatted and sniffed. This corpse was fresh. The blood was not yet frozen. The Pale Hunter dug its talons into the tall human’s chest. It peeled back the hide and metal plates. Underneath lay battered ribs and a deep gash. The Pale Hunter pried the ribs apart. It feasted again, gulping down the raw flesh.

The kill was messy. Icy wind whipped against the Pale Hunter’s skin. It ate until the emptiness in its stomach faded to a manageable throb. A few scraps of bone and flesh remained. Normally, the Pale Hunter devoured everything, but caution whispered in its mind. Feasting too long in one spot attracted trouble. The smell of blood would linger for miles.

With a soft hiss, the Pale Hunter rose. It wiped strings of muscle from its fangs with the back of its forearm. It scanned the clearing. One glance at the trees told the creature enough: no immediate threats. Still, it did not wish to wait. It had enough sustenance for now.

Strange whispers stirred in its mind, reminiscent of an echo. The Pale Hunter paused, remembering memories that were not its own. The thoughts came unbidden, but they were clear. Raise Zombie. The Pale Hunter had not tried it before. It did not even know what the thought meant.

It crept back to the shorter human’s corpse. That husk lay in a dark pool of blood. The Pale Hunter peered at it. It reached out, placing one palm over the battered chest. An itch spread across its consciousness. There was a sense of power, dormant but waiting. It focused on that itch.

A slight tension crackled in the air. The Pale Hunter’s hand glowed with a faint, sickly shimmer. Then a surge of cold breath whipped around the clearing. Loose snow whipped into spirals. The shorter human’s body shuddered. Its limbs jerked. Bones grated together. The battered torso rose inch by inch, as if pulled by invisible strings.

The Pale Hunter felt a tug at its own spirit, like a piece of itself was draining away. The body stood, hunched and shaking. It faced the Pale Hunter with empty eyes. A blackish ooze trickled from its open wounds. Its face had teeth marks, but the jaw hung slack. The corpse made a soft rasp.

The Pale Hunter tilted its head. The figure did not move on its own. It simply stood, swaying. The Pale Hunter flicked a claw at a nearby tree. The figure stumbled in that direction, dragging a broken leg behind it. Its movement was slow and awkward. But it moved.

The Pale Hunter clicked its teeth. It had raised a thing. A husk. It turned and pointed at the tall human’s corpse. The husk walked over. Blood still dripped from the wide slashes on its body. It stared down at the other corpse with blank eyes. No reaction. The Pale Hunter pointed again, this time making a small snarl from deep in its throat.

The husk bent down. It picked up the tall corpse by the arm. The body dragged across the ground, leaving a smear of fluids. The Pale Hunter studied the effect. The husk was strong enough to carry a good portion of the load, but half its body was ruined. Muscles and bones no longer fit together. The husk’s movements were jerky. Still, it obeyed.

The Pale Hunter hissed approval. More corpses meant more of these things. A small advantage in hunts. But that might also draw attention. Humans would see these walking corpses. They would gather in larger groups. They would bring better weapons. The Pale Hunter growled softly, uncertain.

Another swirl of wind rattled the pines. The Pale Hunter looked up. No sign of danger, yet. It turned back to the husk. If the husk could obey, maybe it could help carry kills to safer feeding grounds. But how long did it last? Did it remain until it rotted away? Could the Pale Hunter control more than one?

It decided to experiment. It placed a clawed hand on the tall corpse, the one now half-dragged by the husk. The remains were even more damaged. The chest was ripped open. The arms were nearly severed. Still, the Pale Hunter tried again. That itchy sensation came once more.

A wave of cold pulsed along the ground. The tall corpse quivered. Broken limbs snapped. A severed finger twitched in the snow. The chest gaped wide, exposing half-eaten organs. Despite that, the corpse jerked upright. Another hiss sounded in the clearing. The second husk had risen.

The Pale Hunter staggered a step. Its mind felt stretched. Its head throbbed with pain. It pressed one palm against its forehead, black claws tapping its own pale skin. The tension in the air receded. The forest grew silent again. Two husks now stood, bodies swaying. The tall husk was even less stable than the first. Its spine bent sideways, causing it to lean crookedly. One eye socket was empty. The other stared blankly.

The Pale Hunter tested them. It walked to the nearest tree, then pointed. The husks followed, limbs scraping and crunching. They moved slower than the Pale Hunter liked. One husk kept stumbling. A leg buckled. Bits of flesh peeled off. The Pale Hunter decided this was enough. For now, it had no further use for these broken forms. They could not hunt. They could only shuffle around.

Perhaps they could distract bigger predators if needed.

The Pale Hunter looked at its new minions with disinterest. A short, choppy growl rose from its throat. The husks stopped. The Pale Hunter devoured them where they stood and returned to the trees.