The garrus were never intended to grow so rampantly. They were my earliest attempts to filter off some of my own excess Kraken, the natural fauna incapable of taking much. They had to be designed in such a way as to ensure they wouldn't die, the Kraken finding him every time one of the natural beasts would die. The sight unnerved too many, and there was no way I could stop it. To ensure that the sheep were left ignorant, I made the garru. That was until I met a prodigy vessel, one so gifted in his main prime that it could rival my own. That wouldn't do.

Just when Kurt thought the day was going to be a fun one, some bastards from Kresson drop a fat pile of bear scat right in the middle of it. Kurt grinned to himself as he made various tracks around the tree line, heading to several different places that made no sense. He hoped they'd lose half the day climbing trees or checking dead ends.

For all the fabled toughness acclaimed by the Kressian dogs, they weren't on the golden fields of Kresson, they were in the Wilds. This was Kurt's domain, here he was a god. “With a little “g”.” Kurt said aloud, as though the Gods were listening.

He had been informed at the trapper's trade house that they should be wary of anybody they didn't recognize. With the rumors stirring around Kresson, and the proximity Metan was to them... well, it simply didn't bode well. With what had happened earlier, and now the eminent need for escape, finding Dorian was exactly what Kurt didn't want to do.

He brushed off the thought, what he wanted to do didn't matter. His ward, his little brother, was by himself with an enemy Priorius on the prowl. That didn't bode well either, but the hand you were dealt was the only one you could play.

Though Kurt never mentioned it to Dorian, his mother was regularly on high guard when it came to Dorian. There was little to nothing Kurt knew that his mother didn't, including Dorian being a Priorius. It was Kurt's duty to protect his brother, and in doing so, protect his family.

Their mother had lost too much in her life, all her brothers in a fire when she was just a youth, and her only sister to the Monastery just after they had met his father, Rand. Hers was a life that had been filled with the pain of loss, and nothing short of Gwendos himself showing up could stop Kurt from fulfilling that obligation to his mother, or to his family.

Regardless of his duty though, he would fend off Gwendos himself if he was after Dorian. His little brother had always been a place to vent and blow off steam, even as a youth he listened to every word as though Kurt was all there was to the world. Dorian did that to everybody, made you the center of his universe when he conversed with you. That was Dorian, despite the priests telling everyone Priorius were different, all Kurt could see was his friend and younger brother. If Priorius were born with their personalities fully developed, then the Gods must know what they were doing because Dorian landed with the people he was meant to be with. Even if he hadn't been blood kin, though he undeniably was, he would have been just as loved in their house. Cook or Hunt, it didn't matter, Dorian was family.

Kurt wasn't the greatest Hunt of all time, though he thought he would qualify for most prodigious. Only time would tell, and it was this sentiment he kept at the forefront of his mind as he found the tracks Dorian had left. He skulked, keeping to the balls of his feet as he stepped in the imprints Dorian had left.

As he finally made his way off the snow and on to the rocky surface, he heard shouting far off in the distance. It was unintelligible, but if they were close enough to hear they were close enough to catch up. Bear scat.

Looking about in the general area, Kurt had to put himself in Dorian's shoes. I'm fat, short, and have no idea how to use the godly powers I've been granted. I have a magic furry slug that can keep me warm in a pinch, and I'm a bit of a chicken. Okay, something with shelter from the wind, possibly hidden in plain sight, yeah, that's how Dorian would do it. He would do the overly obvious thing.

It wasn't that Dorian was stupid, far from it. He was clever, clever in the way that made him tactically unexpected. A few times when sparring staves, Kurt noticed that Dorian liked to abuse the method of being obvious. That's what Kurt named it in his head, and it had helped him win a bout with Master Kel. Do a thing that's too obvious, make it look like you're using one technique to bait, assuming the other person would see it as a farce. Then simply strike the unguarded opponent. By doing the overly obvious thing your opponent guards against what you might be intending, when all along you were intending to do just that thing. When Kurt sparred against Master Kel, he kept his staff low for an obvious trip, something you would only do to the most basic of novices. Master Kel guarded for a backwards overhead, leaving his feet exposed for a trip. Thanks Dorian.

It’s with this mode of thought that Kurt spotted a tiny alcove with a small drop off, the rocks at the back blended in color so well that he almost didn't notice it. He had to do a double take, but was certain it was where Dorian was.

“Dorian?” Kurt gave a harsh whisper as he approached the drop off. Ohmer popped up out of the pitch-black, attack ready. His hackles were up, but just as Kurt was going to say something Dorian came out looking pale.

“Oh, thank the Gods, Kurt, it's just you.” Dorian sounded terrified. Being hunted in the woods was a terrifying situation, let alone after sunset. There were safehouses throughout the Wilds that every trapper had to memorize to be allowed to hunt new grounds, and Kurt knew they would be lucky to make it there by second moon.

“Shh, I don't know if they've caught on yet, but we have to move. I want to get out of this area, especially before it gets late. We don't want to spend the night in the Wilds, not even in winter.” He turned to inspect the tree line, hoping nobody had seen this trail yet, or the tree line for that matter. They likely had scouted the area already and knew that any escapee would likely try to hide their tracks. That left two options, the rocks or the stream. Unfortunately for team Hunt, they needed one to get to the other. The stream forks down the way which can get them about an hour’s march from the safehouse.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

“Kurt, I wanted to tell you,” Dorian whispered, but he seemed to cut off. Kurt heard a noise, not unlike a quack, as he turned his head to Dorian. Dorian was on the ground, and Kurt sprang to action. Hopping down the hole, he looked up just as Dorian disappeared into the darkness of a tunnel.

“Dorian!” Kurt shouted down the tunnel, watching for any sign of movement as he ran into the dark. Ohmer was beside him, slithering along at a surprising pace. It started humming a vibration that Kurt could feel through his chest. Suddenly, he could make out dim outlines, almost black and white. Sharp in imagery, almost no detail, but he could navigate. His pace quickened.

He didn't know what the Garru had done, but it had helped him somehow. Damn, he thought, I really needed to get one of those.

Kurt saw a curve ahead and slowed in order to make the turn. As he came to the edge he saw a swift motion, and a thud followed. “Hey!” Kurt couldn't make them out well, but he saw the outline of two people, maybe wearing helmets? It didn't matter, because as Kurt approached, they disappeared. He came to a stop, as did Ohmer. He looked about until Ohmer came to an edge, then hummed loudly. He could see it, an indentation, just soft earth. Stepping on it, he heard it rip. Rip?

Reaching behind his belt, he pulled his hunting knife. Stabbing down, he penetrated the two inches or so of soft earth to find a some kind of cloth material. It gave with little effort after it had been slashed a few times. When it finally gave, he assumed to be able to steady himself, at least get a look at this hole. He might be brash, but he wasn't stupid.

Despite this, he found that he was sucked under with sudden ferocity, a pressurized suction pulled at him so intense that he barely could make a sound before he was pulled below. There, he was sucked down a smooth narrow tunnel, about the width of four people standing abreast. If there was anything else to be seen he couldn't tell, he was suddenly moving so fast that even his black and white vision seemed to fade. Kurt used to have nightmares like this when he was a boy, then he smirked at the thought. Though he tried not to, he couldn't help but let out a small laugh as he plummeted at unbelievable speeds. There was a trickling of water underneath him, between that and the now wet lichen, he had to be moving at deadly speed. The laughter that bubbled out of him earlier started to seem more and more stupid by the moment.

The water began to thicken as the angle of the fall shifted, then again. Slowed by the curve of the tunnel, the top opened, revealing for a moment torches in sconces lining the walls. That was until the brightness of the torches left him light-blind. He shut his eyes as the water slowed him. His winter gear was going to be soaked through, he hoped to get out of the water as swiftly as possible.

Suddenly, Ohmer rushed past. Faster than you could throw, he zipped through the water leaving a wake in his path. It turned about twice in the water then chose where to land. Kurt stood and began walking over. His under pants and boots were both coated in beaver, very water resistant. Remembering himself, he searched about, spotting his line staff that had indeed made the journey with them. He needed it to get out of the water quickly, but it had been smoked and charred. There wouldn't be anything to worry about for a time yet.

Pulling it out of the water, he inspected it briefly, before tugging on the small bulb at the bottom. Squeezing it taught before it dried was important, you didn't want to end up with a crooked point. He straightened it as best he could while moving to Ohmer. Whomever took Dorian wouldn't be getting the chance to explain themselves.

Ohmer shook himself off for a moment longer and slithered along, bobbing his antennae as he moved. The sight of the thing was somehow becoming a comfort to him, despite it scaring the hell out of him that first time. He knew he could trust Dorian with anything, but Kurt often wondered how much of that display was real, and how much just for show.

Kurt followed hotly behind, his boot not as sopping wet as he had expected, but still managed to make a squashing noise every stride. That wouldn't be good for what they were doing. He gave a loud “Psst.”

He stopped, reaching down and unlacing his boots. He shirked off his heavy winter jacket to find the passage quite warm. He grabbed his staff and leather sack off his jacket. As he put the straps across himself from his sack, he kicked his boots off. Once he had, he gave his sack a squeeze to eject any extra water, then tossed it behind himself. He hooked his left arm through a cord on the opposite side of the sack and grabbed his staff. He gestured to Ohmer, “lead the way,” he whispered in hushed tones.

Barefoot wasn't preferred, but when you were skulking through the woods in the middle of boar mating season, it was the safest option. Or anything's mating season really, the Wilds were just that, wild. Be astonished later, the most important thing at any moment was knowing your objective, which could cost you your life in situations like this. Alert, attentive, quiet.

Ohmer wound his way through spacious tunnels, Kurt doubted he could jump to the ceiling, and the floor had undeniably been leveled. A curious part of him wondered at how old this tunnel could be but shoved it aside. The torches on the walls were becoming more spaced as they continued, the light now growing evermore dim.

Ohmer took a sharp turn, and Kurt had to hurry to catch up. Directly ahead was a seven-foot-tall stone archway, Dorian lie sprawled out behind it face down. Kurt rushed over to him, Ohmer humming a sad sound as they approached.

“Dorian,” Kurt whispered as he stopped short, slowing to get to his knees. With a grunt, he pulled Dorian onto his back. He had a small gash on his head, but he was still breathing. Kurt began slapping his face lightly, trying to wake him, doing the best to hold back how frantic he felt. “Come on Dorian, you don't want to sleep your whole day away, right?” Kurt spoke softly as he slowly began hardening his slaps.

Just as Kurt was really going to vent some teenage frustration at Dorian, Ohmer suctioned himself into Dorian's hand. That was always creepy.

Dorian sat up, gasping. “Dorian, it's me Kurt. Are you hurt? Can you move?”

Dorian was looking around, eyes slitted. “Kurt?”

Just as Dorian finally spoke, the sound of clanking came from behind him. Two men had shut a gate that Kurt hadn't noticed on the archway. He stood, brandishing his pointed stave. He came to the bars, trying to rip the gate open. It was locked tight, but he could see and hear two people walking away. The sound wasn't anything Kurt had ever heard, they were clicking.