When Guin walked into the trappers’ house, she found Master Hunter Lithe sitting in the common area of the lower floor. With the backdrop of the massive fireplace, she looked picturesquely elegant. Yet, she felt different. In fact, the whole house felt different.
Darker. Quieter.
“Psst,” came from the other side of the room, and Guin looked over to see Gorseth, sitting quietly with a couple of other hunters who looked at her curiously. Mugs of ale and a small feast lay before them. The old hunter waved her over with a nod.
“Take a seat, girly,” he said as she went over to the table. “Have a bit of stew, will yeh?”
Guin sat on the free end of the bench, asking, “What’s going on?”
Gorseth shook his head grimly and waved over a pretty, red-headed young woman. “Oy, Margot love, get this little recruit a bit o’ stew and cider, would yeh?” The woman nodded with a smile and disappeared into the kitchen. “How’d the hunt of? Get your pelts all nice?”
“You taught me well,” she told him. “I have many pelts now that I hope to use to become a leatherworker as well.”
“It’s a good trade,” he nodded and wiped off a bit of froth of ale from his beard. “There’s a few leather workers in Miala De Ri you can learn from, but I’d send you first to my old friend Hoth. He’ll teach you our way—not the prissy, city-folk way. Their way is just fine if you want fancy feathers, but Hoth’s’ll save your life.”
“He’s a part of the hunter’s guild?”
“He is. Lives in a small cabin not far from here, two buildings down the path behind this one. Not much a man of words, though,” Gorseth said. “He’s a man of talent and action. Show him your determination to learn his craft, and he’ll set you up nice.”
“Alright!” Guin jotted the name down in her book.
“Ah! Margot!” Gorseth exclaimed as the young woman reappeared, placing a bowl and a mug in front of Guin.
“Here you go!” Margot said with a girlish grin. “Watch out there, miss. This old man will be telling you tall tales all night if you let him!”
Gorseth tsk-ed at her. “Says the girl with the most fanciful tales between us.”
“How much do I owe you?” Guin asked with a chuckle.
The young woman laughed. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We don’t charge Hunters here; that’s the tavern’s business. My father’s approved of you; you’re as good as family now, for better—” she winked, “—or worse.”
“Here, here!” a dark-haired hunter at the table said as the other, a blonde, bearded man raised his glass, saying, “I’ll drink to that!”
Gorseth scowled and waved them off.
A small, furry white face then appeared at the woman’s shoulder, out from her curly red locks. A white weasel spirit came out, its nose twitching as it sniffed the air. Meeting Guin’s eyes with curious, beady eyes, it stood wearily on her shoulder. Within a moment, though, it withdrew itself back into Margot’s hair. Does she know? Guin wondered, looking up into the woman’s bright, unconcerned freckled face.
“Run off, then. Back to your business!” Gorseth mumbled. “Pickin’ on me... Just like your mother, you are!”
Unfazed by Gorseth’s comment, Margot waved, saying, “Enjoy your meal!”
As Guin sampled her soup—a thick, brown gravy-like broth with a strange texture, filled to the brim with oddly colored vegetables and unknown types of meats—Gorseth asked, “You here to see Lady Lithe, then?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking over at the woman who had hardly moved since Guin entered the house. “Is everything all right?”
“Eh,” he shrugged. “The city folk were up in here, putting our Lady into a foul mood.”
“Is she? In a bad mood?” Guin asked. “Have I come at a bad time?"
Gorseth gave a little grunt-laugh as he turned to look at the woman as well. “Nah,” he went. “It’s a great time to see. Good as any other, I’d say. It’s just best to know before you walk into the tiger’s den.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“Why do you call the Master Hunter ‘Lady Lithe’?” Guin asked. “Does everyone here?”
The old hunter shrugged. “Mostly just us older folk have the tendency,” he said. “We all first knew the Lady when she was—well—a Lady. Straight from the Imperial capital, she was, all prim and proper. She married our good hunter Timren and came to live here with ‘im. Not a one of us understood what she saw in him. I mean, we all liked him well enough; he was a good man—just not the fare of the noble blood. She had nothin’ to do with hunting, not for a long while after her children were born. Sure, Timmy taught her things, but she never wanted to kill nothin’ til the day he was killed by that Gorak there,” he held up his mug to the massive, green-furred creature that hung over the fireplace. “Lady On High knows that my wife taught me that women were a force to be reckoned with, but that lady there, on receiving the news, she suited up in her good husband’s gear, took his bow, and headed out without a second thought. She hunted that legendary beast down like it were nothin’ but a rabbit in a trap. It was beautiful. It was horrible. And so she ascended to Master Hunter. Women are strange creatures.”
“So that’s what happened,” Guin muttered, taking a few bites from her stew as she considered. It was a nice stew—though the meat tasted a bit odd. Afraid to know what it was made of, Guin asked, “Legendary beast?”
“Aye,” he said. “Every forest has one or two great beasts that hunters and wise folk tell tale of. In our woods, it’s the Goraks. Live in the mountains, they do; five, by our record—though I’d wager that at least two have met their end now.”
Sitting next to him, a hunter with a well-kept, braided yellow beard nodded. “Our wood is as dead as any other beast these days. Not just dead—powerful dead. Those who speak to the spirits say it’s the worst they’ve ever seen. Only thing that could affect this land that much is the death of a powerful beast that wasn’t properly respected.”
“Those that speak to spirits?” Guin inquired. “Among the hunters?”
“The Circle,” the blonde hunter said. “The Druids, Shamans, and Rangers who commune with the Veil. And they tell tales that the spirit of the forest is all but rotted. We normal hunters only see the dead parts, but we’ve heard tales.”
Guin bit her lip. “My friends and I, we saw the Dead Woods out there,” she told them. “It’s made the monsters and beasts out there very powerful.”
“Aye,” Gorseth nodded. “You’d best be careful, for it drives even the good beasts mad. I had a friend who went out there. Lost his ear to a squirrel, he did,” he said, then nodded over towards the kitchen. “My daughter, Margot, there, she’s got The Eyes. A proper little Druid in training. She’s a soft heart, and she doesn’t like any of it. Says the spirits of the animals have been comin’ to her at night, seeking refuge. Death is at its strongest at night, you see.”
The blonde hunter looked into his mug. “It’s all so very unnerving. But there must be something to it—and I think all of us are wagering on a Gorak.”
Nodding, Gorseth added, “And those higher-ups from the main city came down here and blamed Lady Lithe for it all. I saw some of what went down—they pointed at that one, but that one’s been dead for so long, it’s been long returned to its natural cycle. We know she’s just a scapegoat—we just don’t know quite what to do about it.”
“Who else would hunt down a Gorak?” Guin asked. “The last time I saw corruption, it was a couple of kids trying to make a quick couple of coins off some skins. It doesn’t sound like you could take a Gorak down without first knowing what you were doing.”
“It’s true,” Gorseth said. “We can’t really say we know, but we have a few hints.”
“Just the fact that those nobles were here at all is clue enough,” the dark-haired hunter who had been quiet till then said. “They aren’t stupid, but they aren’t like to take the blame for the sins of their own. I know that there’s been a royal hunting party here from the capital; I tracked them through the wood since they entered it, not that it was hard. The extravagance of it, the number of men tromping through. The arrogance of treating the land like it were their own. I do not like it.”
The blonde snorted. “How else to expect them to be?”
“Now, that’s enough, boys,” Gorseth scolded. “Whoever it might have been, I’ll tell you that if it were the city folk, the cause for this can only be selfish. One of their own, out for amusement, or dignity, or some such foley that rich men seek without wanting the responsibility of doin’ right. Mayhaps they don’t even know that there is a way to do it right. It’s just a real shame that those men who do wrong are rarely ever the ones who feel the consequences.”
“Is there anything we could do about it?” Guin asked. “Are the hunters doing anything?”
Gorseth shook his head. “Not much to be done,” he sighed. “Not by us, any rate. If you think you can be of any help, talk to Lady Lithe yourself - though she may be fuming, be warned. If you like, Margot would probably be able to bring you to The Circle. The nobles left not too long ago. If you left now, you could catch up soon enough, I think. No matter which you choose, I’m sure it will be better than hanging around us.”
<<>>
UPDATE: Hunter Gorseth has told you to speak to his daughter, Margot, about what she knows and introduce you to the circle. He has also told you to speak to Master Hunter Lithe herself. < <<>> Guin laughed and reassured him that that could not be the case. Their topics of conversation turned more positive as she finished off the last bit of her stew and cider. “I guess it’s time,” she mumbled as she looked back over at the tivarys woman, her jade skin looking like porcelain in the firelight. Groseth gave a soft chuckle. “You’ll be all right,” he said. “Just do your best to not piss her off anymore than she already is, yeah?”