Chapter 3: Caught

Soft sunlight peered over a thicket of gently blown trees. A golden glow illuminated green leaves, before the angle of their source changed ever so slightly, and the light found its way to a sleeping boy.

Eyes twitching at the unexpected brightness, they fluttered open. Awakened, his senses were welcomed into a magical scene.

The morning sun shone in the distance— its golden rays dispersed neatly and perfectly by the branches of a myriad kind trees. Soft sounds of the forest played a symphony in his ears— that of birds chirping, the wind passing through tens of thousands of leaves, and the faint sounds of a distant gushing river.

A cold wind passed over, but he wore pristine fur, and the chilling gale simply became a refreshing breeze. Unconsciously, a smile formed on his lips. Rising from his hammock, he stretched merrily, ready to explore a new day.

Feeling the effects of a full and restful sleep, his walk turned into a stride that turned into a full blown run. Excitedly, he ran over to a few spots he marked down on his map.

Leaves crunched and sticks broke as the silhouette of a playful child appeared transiently between the dense forest’s gaps.

He arrived quickly to one of his destinations. There near a formation of bushes was a trap laid for small animals, constructed by himself of course out of plant fiber and broken sticks.

To his disappointment the trap was never triggered, but he quickly cheered himself up and ran to the next spot on his map.

He arrived before a small stream where light shimmered radiantly on the water’s surface. Before he could fully take it in however, he heard the breakage of sticks, and the swift patter of a creature’s footsteps.

From a small hill he looked downwards, and saw a red fox streaking through the forest’s clearing, before disappearing into some dense foliage.

He looked to where it had come from. The very trap he had made, had been triggered! And it was also…broken. Which made an awful lot of sense.

“Were the sticks too brittle, or the bindings I tied too weak?”

“I guess at least the trap I made works…” The young child carried on to his next and last destination.

He arrived before a clearing, with rolling green hills and flowers abound. Along with them, were numerous burrows where small creatures nested. And near a particular burrow…he saw a sleeping rabbit.

It was small, perhaps young, and weak, or else it would have already broken through the sticks that caged it.

His trap…had caught something. Excitedly he ran over. With eyes of wonder, curiosity and joy, he stood above the small creature as it jumped awake.

Its hairs stood on end— frantically it scurried as far away as its shoddy cage would let it, which was not far. Its small paws patted between the gaps of the sticks, and yet that was all the distance they could go.

In his excitement the young child lunged his hand while simultaneously removing the dome-shaped wooden trap.

A huge hand wrapped itself around the young rabbit’s neck, before being lifted up roughly into the air.

It struggled in his arms, and he only gripped the small creature even tighter as he ran back to camp.

A clearing came into view, one surrounded by his House’s men and women. Numerous tents were set up around an inner perimeter, guarded by an outer perimeter that was much too expansive for him to see.

Seeing the sweet, running boy holding a rabbit, smiles lit up as everyone cleared a path for him to reach his destination.

There he reached his father’s tent, and without stopping burst through its opening flaps.

A tall man with locks of flowing black hair had his back turned, looking at a table full of documents in front of him. Even while on a leisurely trip, he still found time for work.

Without even looking behind him he said, “Vendus, is that your first catch?”

“Yeah! I caught it by the burrow— you know where those flower hills were?”

“Hahaha, congratulations!”

“Come, let me see it.”

“Small. Young. Not much meat…but enough to fill your belly.”

“We can cook it for your breakfast meal.” He said as he ruffled his son’s hair.

“O– Oh…”

“Your Uncle Samson brought over some foreign spices, want to season the meat with it?”

Vendus did not reply, instead looking at the small creature caught in his arms.

Now that he took a real look at it, it was easy to see that it was anxious and frightened. Its struggle had stopped, long replaced by constant trembling. The look in its eyes bordered between intense fear, and…something he couldn’t quite recognize at his age.

“We— We can just let him go dad.”

“...Haha. Are you sure?” A low voice with a rough timbre said. Even the man’s voice resembled a lion’s.

“You don’t want to celebrate your first catch ever?”

A pondering look appeared on the child’s face, but not for long. “No father, it's alright!”

“Let’s…let him go.”

“Okay, child.” A broad hand landed on his head, ruffling his hair once again.

“Hmm. Why not show your brothers and sisters first?”

“O— Oh yeah!”

“Hmph! I can finally show off to Raina and Byrel!”

With that he quickly ran out of his father’s tent.

Running over to his sibling’s quarters, he gave no warning and once again burst inside.

…And yet what met him was not the interior of a tent, but that of a vast, stone fortress. An eerie, almost foreboding silence assaulted him as his mind grew increasingly confused and fearful at the sequence of events.

The silence lasted but a few moments before an irrational fear gripped his heart, and then consumed it.

BOOM! BOOM!

The walls shook and trembled, thunderous explosions assaulted the mighty fortress in a haphazard and senseless destruction.

Trembling in fear, the boy crumbled, and without conscious choice, he found himself kneeling on the cold stone floor.

He stared out into an empty ruinous hall, but he blinked once, and now a sea of corpses, limbs, and heads stared at him.

His mouth opened in a guttural, tormented scream, before he stammered out the words, “Fa— Father! Help!”

He wanted to run out the same way he came inside, but his legs would not let him. And then, there in the distance, a blonde man that wore the colors of gold and purple cut his father down. Blood streaked through the air, this time not only splattering the walls, but bathing the young child in it.

Buckets of red blood seemed to have fallen atop his head, flowing down to molest each and every part of his body. Eyes opened unnaturally wide, he breathed harshly as red fell from his hair, and his very eyelashes. Currently his mind was holding on by just a single thread.

“Ve— Vendus…”

He looked upwards from the ground, hearing a familiar voice.

Instinctively his eyes scanned for the voice’s source, until his eyes laid themselves on a nightmarish sight.

Pale dead lips moved— the decapitated head of his sister, Raina, spoke to him.

“Ru— Run.”

“Wake up.”

A horrified and confused expression appeared on his miserable, blood-splattered face, before his eyes shot wide open. He awoke in cold sweats, gasping for air as if he had been held underwater.

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The high moon shone just above him, obscured slightly by falling leaves from shedding branches. Silence reigned, and each sound that made a bump in the night set his heart aracing. A chilling gale blew, and his small and unfed body shivered in pitiful misery.

“A dream— It was just another dream…” He said with a voice that was just barely hanging on. Wiping his tears, it was the second time he awoke tonight, and the fifth nightmare in the last three days.

…Insidiously, this one began with a happy start, lulling him to let his guard down.

All the other nightmares were direct— and he could steel his resolve, and push himself ever forward out of the sheer belief that he had to live. Yet this one— this one caught him at his most innocent, and most vulnerable.

That dream was not just a dream but a memory. One that was still fresh in his mind, and one he so desperately wanted to return to. He had begun to think that this life was the nightmare, to which he begged himself to wake up from.

But…this was his reality. Vendus had spent the last three days running, and he had not slept properly nor eaten anything for the past three days.

Tears began to fall from him more than usual, and frustratingly he did his best to rub them out of existence. He had to be strong and unwavering— just like his father, and just like that man who had protected him. So how could he let himself falter here?

He rose from a pile of leaves, vines, and greenery he used to hide himself in, before setting off to a few spots he had marked down in his head.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep for a while, he had to at least try to fill his belly. Without sustenance no warrior could sustain themselves.

Within that line of thinking, and just before collapsing from exhaustion, he had made and placed down a few traps.

In fact, they were the very same traps that he…used in his dream…

…Immediately, he shook himself out of that line of thought. His head quickly spun from side to side, as if wanting to physically throw any ideas he was having out of his head.

The boy was afraid of lingering on any malign thought— even for just a little, scared they might bring something terrible back to his tired mind.

Besides, right now, right here, he had to focus on what was in front of him.

Silently, a figure creeped through the spaces where the moonlight couldn’t reach. Its dark silhouette resembled a phantom, appearing and disappearing between the dense forest’s gaps.

Without fanfare the figure reached its first destination. An eerie sight occurred, as the dark shadow of a head peeked out from behind a tree. A featureless face looked at something in front of a dense bush made of tiny, nibbled leaves, before inevitably leaving the site.

Time passed. A red fox peeked its head out of a den, oblivious to the shadow that stuck close and low just above it. The stalker bided his time, waiting for the fox to feel safe enough to exit.

A single paw reached out, followed by another, until finally its body was fully out in the open. In that moment, the stalker lunged. Two hands reached out for the fox, but its ears twitched first, hearing the hunter’s clumsy and impatient approach.

It leaped away, and the stalking figure ate a mouthful of leaves and dirt.

The fox ran and kept running. Then, just a few paces ahead of it, something fell from above. A dome-shaped bowl made out of thick sticks, thoroughly knotted fiber, and even a few rocks as added weight, fell down onto the fox.

The trap— the rocks— smashed onto the fox’s tail and it yelped. Unfortunately though…that was the extent of it. The fox squeezed its tail out, and with its speed, the fox disappeared into the foliage just narrowly avoiding capture.

Vendus…sighed sorrowfully. Patting the dirt and leaves off of him before creeping back into the shadows.

If he had kept his patience maybe the fox would have walked right in. But then…maybe not.

He slowed his breathing again, muffling any and every sound his body could make. Unknowingly, he was connecting to the very essence of those stalking and prowling creatures.

Silently and more menacingly than ever, he traversed the forest. His breathing became more calm and rhythmic, each step less clunky and more natural. He was not becoming more confident in his movements, but more instinctive.

The young boy’s dark silhouette seemed to effortlessly blend into the shadowy forest…until he stumbled erringly into the moonlight. Vendus’s face showed an expression of disbelief, for there in front of him, was a small creature caught in one of his traps.

‘Didn’t…think it’d be that easy.’

Vendus approached, and he saw the small animal scurry backwards against its wooden cage. As he got closer, his eyes finally made the creature out to be…a rabbit.

Instantly he thought of his dream— Nothing in the first trap. An encounter with a fox by the second. And finally a rabbit caught on his third.

“Don’t think about it, don’t think…” He muttered anxiously in a whisper.

Vendus banished the thoughts away, taking a real good look at his trapped prey.

It was neither plump nor malnourished, but its white fur was stained filthy by dirt, debris, and possibly…feces? Definitely something that smelled bad at least…

Standing just above it, he kneeled down.

Producing a dagger from his hip, he held it shakily in his hands. Apart from his mother’s locket, it was one of the only items he always had on him, and also one of the only items apart from his clothes that he was able to flee with.

If he had the strength, he would have carried off one of his family’s swords with him instead, but a dagger with his family's crest on it would have to do. This dagger, would be his claw.

Vendus had never killed anything in his life. If anything, he was deeply in tune with living creatures— more sensitive to their emotions, and the emotions of others in general.

Add to the fact that he was a child-noble who never had to hunt nor even cook his own food, made him completely unprepared for taking the life of his first prey.

But…but he had to do it. He had to grow strong to not only live but…exact revenge.

He steeled himself.

That blonde man who wore the colors of gold and purple, those seven other men— he wanted to cut them up into a sea of blood and strewn limbs and heads. There was a burning pain inside his heart, but not one out of unhealth, but out of rage, and grief.

Vendus screamed. In one fell swoop, he removed the trap, grabbed the rabbit by its neck, and plunged his dagger downwards.

The tip of the metal pierced into the rabbit’s body, and its frightened eyes finally closed…

…Except that wasn’t what happened. The dagger stopped at the rabbit’s head, a drop of blood fell from it, but that was all that fell.

The rabbit may have gone motionless, but it had only stopped struggling and trembling in his hands out of intense fear. It was not dead by any means.

“Why? Why can’t I do it?”

“It’s— It’s cause—”

“What did this little guy ever do to me?” His voice cracked towards the end of that question and so too did his heart.

Suddenly then, “...But I have to! I have to, I have to!”

His voice spoke weakly trying to be strong, “I cannot falter! I cannot waver!”

“I have to get big and strong! For that I have to kill!”

Furiously wiping the tears that welled up, the dagger in his hands waved about much too close to his own throat.

Vendus breathed in harshly— he looked at the small trembling animal in his hands, before locking eyes with its distressed and pain-filled eyes. The reflection of his own miserable face appeared there, and he sucked in a deep breath, knowing there was no way he could do this with his eyes open…

And so closing his eyes— dagger in grasp— he steeled his resolve…

…To which scenes of his previous dream assaulted him almost immediately— the caught rabbit, its frightened and trembling body, and that heartbreaking look in its eyes— He did what he forbade himself to do, and slowly the grip on his dagger started to loosen…

Before the visions in his mind changed again. A disgusting orgy of corpses, limbs, and heads blurred his perception of what was real, and what was not. The blonde knight, the seven men, the countless armies of soldiers destroying his home were all now right in front of him.

He started to scream. Hatred, sadness, rage, and grief all mixed together, and his hand holding the dagger struck frantically and manically, over and over in a senseless and awful storm.

Vendus had closed his eyes but he could not help to hear the squelches and splatters— the hot touch of blood and flesh mixed with numerous white furs.

Finally when the blade pierced through his own hand did he react. He screamed again, although chillingly there was no difference between the pain in his screams.

Opening his eyes, he finally saw the aftermath of his own doing.

The blade through his palm was not the worst sight. An appalling, indistinct mess of gore was all that was left of the frightened, caught rabbit. The young child stumbled backwards, before he felt something come up his throat and out of his mouth.

His empty stomach retched, scooping out nothing but juices and acid from his body.

He retched and coughed and the vomit hung on his mouth. Whatever didn't hit the floor clung to his blood-stained clothes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Finally broken, he was able to outright sob.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” He muttered over and over.

Weakly he crawled over to the rabbit’s remains, and although he didn’t look at the mess he made again, his head prostrated to the ground just a bit away from it. Tears, snot, and vomit made contact with the dirt, and so did his face.

“I—”

“Luther!” An echo of a shout resounded near him.

He gasped, almost too loudly, before holding back his whimpers and cries. Vendus looked backwards, seeing the distant approach of numerous light sources, most likely torches.

“You see anything!?”

“No! Not anything yet!” The voice that replied was much closer to him, he could hear the heavy thunks of armored footsteps. Those people behind him were not civilians or random hunters, but most likely soldiers sent out to search for him.

He rubbed the tears, snot, and vomit off his face, sheathed the dagger into his hip, before one last time uttering under his breath, “Please.”

“Rest in peace.”

As silently and as fast as he could, he fled the scene.

Not a minute later, a man in chainmail donning the colors of gold and purple stumbled upon the site.

The bright light of his torch illuminated the horrors that had taken place. He sniffed the stench of blood and vomit clear enough, but more than that, they were awfully fresh, and still warm to the touch. Whatever mess happened here happened not too long ago— the traitor’s boy was close!

Luther’s eyes scanned the environment and surroundings for any trace of him, before bursting into a run in the right direction.

Although Vendus had reached minor achievement in silent maneuvers, he had no idea how to cover his tracks.

The distance between them lessened by the second. One was an adult running at full speed, while the other was a child trying to stay as silent as possible.

Luther ran and kept running until suddenly, he simply stopped. His boots skidded over the forest's surface, destroying the greenery underneath.

‘The tracks…they stopped.’

A hand placed itself on the grip of his blade, before it audibly screeched out of its sheath with a shing.

Vendus’s heart sped up, and he prayed to every god he knew that no one would hear it. He held his breath, waiting for the man to pass, and yet he stuck around.

Heavy thuds circled the ground, searching every bush, tree, or dense pile of autumn leaves.

‘Should I increase my search perimeter to five meters?’

Luther walked further away, and Vendus could hear his footsteps distancing themselves.

‘Where is that kid…’ He looked in every nook and cranny. Luther wondered to himself if the boy had evaded his eyesight and sneaked past him long ago. Noble children were sometimes trained for such things after all.

‘Should I be looking for tracks now from where I came?’

‘Hmm…’

‘Wait, why is…’

This time he purposefully muffled his heavy boots— silently he approached a tree covered densely in vines and leaves. It was autumn, so trees naturally shed, and yet…

As noiselessly as he could he removed the vegetation, revealing a hole that led into a hollow tree.

Luther looked downwards, surprise and satisfaction appearing on his face along with a greasy smile. The boy who had burrowed himself in had not yet noticed, so he angled his blade to pierce into the hole just in case he resisted.

Finally, he swerved his torch under the hole, in a way subtly signaling to the kid that he had finally, been caught.

Light illuminated the space, Vendus looked up, noticing he was no longer covered in shadow, and Luther…

Luther…took a real good look at him. Dirty and ragged, there was not a speck on his body that wasn't either brown, yellow, or blood stained. The stench of sweat, blood and vomit mixed together from him, and…and there was…a gash-shaped hole in his left hand. When the soldier’s eyes passed over it he could see beyond the boy's flesh, and into the inside of the gray tree.

But somehow…somehow that was not the worst thing.

The look in the boy’s eyes— it was gradually diminishing from intense fear to…to numb despair.

The sharp gleam of his fancy sword did nothing to light up the lifelessness in his eyes.

As for Vendus, despite all his aspirations of living because of the sacrifices people made for him, and despite all his goals of vengeance for his loved ones, all Vendus could think about now was…whether this was how the rabbit he previously slaughtered felt.

He had nowhere to run. Trapped in the same place he hid himself in.

‘...I’m sorry.’

‘…To everyone.’

“Luther!” A voice shouted, echoing from some distant place.

“Ye found em!?”

“...”

“...No!”

Vendus flinched.

Luther hurried, starting to gather the surrounding greenery back to hide the hole and hollowness of the tree, and starting to stamp his feet across the ground in an effort to erase all his and the boy’s tracks.

“I'll look further south!” His voice echoed through the forest.

“Try further west!” He shouted as he planned to clean the mess up further back.

…Hearing their conversation, Vendus looked weakly upwards. The tip of the sword was gone, along with the man’s face to which he could not remember.

His eyes placed themselves onto the hole that led to the hollowness of the tree. It was being constantly stuffed with leaves and vines, but just before it was totally filled…a loaf of bread and a leather canteen of water fell into the hole, and into his empty lap.

The last bundle of leaves hid the gap, and likewise hid the young boy in shadow and stray moonlight.

…Not long after, the sound of heavy armored footsteps disappeared into the distance.

The danger and threat that came into his life…disappeared just as abruptly as it came. It even transformed into something else entirely.

Vendus…held both in his arms, gazing at them deeply.

Putting the piece of bread near his lips, tears unconsciously welled up in his eyes, and as he took his first bite, they began to flood over.

Lavish meals no doubt tasted great, but all he could think about was how grateful he was for the food he was even given to eat.

A chilling gale passed by, but it was not as cold inside. For this tiny moment created briefly and ephemerally, he was safe.

Soft moonlight peered over a thicket of gently blown trees. A silver glow illuminated autumn leaves, and unexpected kindness found its way to a boy who wept silently into the night.

As he fell asleep inside the hollow tree, his lips moved, uttering in silence, ‘...Thank you.’