Ram flowed through the underbrush, deftly dodging the autumnal leaves and fallen twigs with meticulous accuracy. Each step low and true, the trainees behind him diligently attempted to imitate his movements, but the nigh constant snap or crunch, each one grating upon Ram’s mind, spoke of their capability.
Jorgier, at least, the oldest and largest of the boys, managed to make the least noise, but even that wasn’t for naught. Ram could tell that the lad’s attention was too focussed on copying his exact path, a mistake which had his concentration on his surroundings drifting dangerously. Better to see a predator coming than to avoid a few twigs, Ram thought. No matter. The boy had both the mind and body for it, and Ram was sure that in a year or three he could trust the kid enough to retire, spending his days drinking mead and berating kids who dared to get too close to his abode. Perhaps he would even take a wife. Fuili knows he deserved it.
Ram moved through a particularly thorny bush, the muted yips and squeals from behind doing much to alleviate his spirit. Passing into a clearing, the cool downhill wind washed over him, bringing with it whispers of movement from beyond Ram’s sight. The Forest spoke to Ram, from time to time. Sometimes lies and sometimes truth. That was the nature of this beast. A finicky creature like any other, the Forest was just as likely to attack you as it were to provide for you, and it was up to you to use your wiles and intuition to separate fact from fiction, and in doing so, prove your worth to Fuili, the Goddess of the Hunt.
The namesake of Downwind Village was the sole reason for it’s prosperity. The wind always flowed from within the forest to out, carrying both the scents of prey to the hunters, and the hunters scents away from the predators and out of the forest. Even now, when life in the village had taken on some unwanted expectations, Downwind Village still lost less hunters than any of the surrounding tribes. It truly was a blessing.
This part of the forest could only be considered to be within the outer region. An area which, while considered dangerous and potentially lethal, was not dangerous. Not for hunters at least.
Despite the relative safety, Ram did not dare to let his guard drop. Ram was an aging man, a veteran hunter in truth, and had seen many men fall to the trap of underestimating these outer regions. His eyes flitted about in constant motion, searching ever while for prey and predator alike. Any indifference he had harbored toward the forest had long ago been beaten out of him, replaced by a deep reverence of the forest and its many inhabitants.
Not to mention, today was no ordinary hunt.
Ram was almost certain that any prey brave enough to travel this far outside of the relative safety of the inner region had been long scared off by his clumsy companions. The boys looked up to him, and seeing Ram treat the forest with negligence would instill within them entirely fatal habits. As the village's last remaining veteran hunter, it was his duty to see to the training of the next generation. New waves to take over the old and all that.
Hearing a whisper of truth, Ram paused his advancement, holding up a closed fist to signal his orders. He was only slightly disappointed when Jorgier emitted a small grunt, one of the younger boys failing to notice the sign to halt and bumping into his crouched form. An acute turn of his head revealed to them Ram’s frown, hopefully enough for them to understand his admonishment. Words could not be used here, so the lecture on signs and their paramount importance would need to wait until they were all once more safely within the walls of the village.
Sure that they were now paying attention, Ram flashed from his fist his ring and forefinger, then twisted his fist halfway.
Two prey, medium size.
Again, he closed his fist, making a knocking motion twice.
Twenty steps ahead.
Not precise, but close enough. Turning his arm back, he kept his position face forward as he made a come hither motion. Carefully, a bow was placed into his hands. Ram stretched his arms out, taking aim as he silently retrieved a wood-tipped arrow from the quiver upon his back. His aim, as unfortunate as it was obvious, drew the attention of all the boys behind him, and they strained in their positions to try and see the prey he had spotted. Another thing to add to the lecture then, for it now fell to Ram to both keep his aim true while also keeping an eye on their surroundings. No matter.
The soft whistle of the arrow jolted the inexperienced boys out of their reverie, and if it wasn’t for the early morning birdsong, Ram was sure the noise created would have scared off the second deer. Fuili had blessed him today however, and the birdsong neatly covered the small creaking of broken sticks as the first deer lifelessly dropped into the soft grass it had been grazing. The arrow entered through the left eye, cleanly ending the life of the beast without pain nor fuss. Ram silently offered a small prayer to Fuili. He had hunted honourably, and would have nothing to fear from the Goddess. Perhaps she would even bless him with a boar or two.
Ram took a moment, rescinding the bow as he slowly and carefully took another arrow from his quiver. Patience was perhaps the single most important skill he had acquired as a lifelong hunter, and it just so happened that it lent itself well to life outside of the forest as well.
Ram nocked the arrow, taking aim once more. Notched and ready, the silence seemed to seep into Ram, slowing down his heart rate and centering his aim with each passing moment. Just as he was about to shoot, another broken twig knocked him out of his concentration, and he nearly loosed the arrow, shooting it off target and into a tree. Perhaps three years was too short to hope to be done with this lot. Ram-- the boys were as still as when he had first signalled them to halt.
Death is upon you, the Forest spoke.
Instinct taking over, Ram turned, pushing harshly into Jorgier’s chest, sending the burly boy tumbling back into the others, bowling them over with a cacophony of cries and shouts.
Ram saw stars as a weight unlike any he had felt before collided into him, smashing him across the clearing and into a thick oak. He hit the tree, a sharp crack sending pain shooting through his ribs as the ambient racket became dulled by a throbbing in his head. Ram bounced off of the immoveable oak, coming to a shaky stand as he pawed his face. The blood felt cold, and Ram knew he had dodged death by perhaps a breath.
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“Go.” Ram ordered, turning to see the boy’s recover from their crash. “The way we came.” The boys recovered themselves, sparing a longing glance at the veteran hunter as they hesitated on what to do.
Three wolves creeped out from the underbrush behind the boys, spreading out as they moved to circle them. “Shit. Back to each other!” Ram shouted, sprinting over to the frozen few. His torso ached with every step. To their credit, when he arrived they quickly spread themselves out, though still kept in tight formation, each of them with their back to one another so that their blindspots were covered.
“Are you hurt?” Asked a quivering voice from behind. Fong Lee was the boy’s name.
It took Ram a second to realise that the question was even aimed at him. He reached up, probing gently around the gash in his forehead. It was deep, but fortunately not enough so to reach bone.
“I’m fine. Just a flesh wound. Keep your guard up.”
Unfortunately however, head cuts bled, a lot, and If it wasn’t the constant stream of blood impeding his eyesight that would get him killed, the blood loss surely would.
“Cover me. Don't worry, our numbers will stop them from doing anything foolish.” For now Ram purposefully didn’t add. The boys were already terrified, and with each step closer the wolves took, their morale crumbled bit by bit. The last thing Ram wanted was for them to just book it, running for each direction like a pack of scared rats. Dropping into the circle, Ram took a knee as he took a bandage from his satchel, tying it haphazardly around his head. A trickle of blood still tickled his temple, but it would do. Ram could almost hear Betta’s voice in his head, chastising him for his terrible bandage work and insisting he do it again. Alas, this was not the time. He took a fistful of ointment from the pack, slapping it against his ribs in large swathes. The ointment went cold for a bit, dulling the pain, then flared with anger, heating up his ribs with vengeance. Nevertheless, the pain dulled, and Ram found himself able to twist his torso without any major pain. Rejoining the circle, Ram stood tall and strong, bringing himself up to full height as he flexed his muscles. The wolves took a step back. This was The Forest. His Forest. If you looked scared, it would eat you for breakfast and spit you out by supper, but if you looked strong and unintimidated, then perhaps the predators would miss you, preferring easier prey. Some of the boys had called that cowardice. Ram simply thought it was prudent.
The Forest directed his attention, a rustle in the bush across from him, and a quick glance showed three more wolves sneaking out from opposite him. He cursed, rotating and bringing the circle with him. If they stayed too still, the wolves would attack. He drew his carving knife from his belt and told the boys to do the same. Each of them held out their short daggers in awkward and untrained stances. They probably couldn’t even pierce flesh. A growl and shout took Ram’s attention, turning just in time to see another wolf, its jaw locked around Fong Lee’s arm, flailing wildly as it attempted to drag the boy back into the pack. Ram broke the circle, sprinting over to the boy. Jorgier got there before him, booting the wolf in the side as Ram dragged the boy back to the others. Fon Lee shook off Ram’s grip and staggered backward, tripping over his own feet as he landed harshly onto the ground. He gripped at his arm wildly, his mouth frozen open in shock as he stared at his bleeding forearm. It wasn’t lethal, but the boy would have a hell of a scar. Ram moved to shout at the boy, waking him from his stupor, but the boy’s face said it all. He was down for the count. One down, four left.
Death approaches, The Forest once more spoke, and Ram felt a cold prickling sensation of fear and death run up his spine. He turned to see a pair of sharp red eyes creep their way out of a shadow. Head hung low, the apex direwolf stood nearly as tall as Ram himself. It’s black-as-night coat seemed to absorb the shadows of the forest, and if it wasn’t for the beasts greying fur-- a sign of age-- Ram was sure that it would blend in seamlessly with the dark of the early morning shadows. It slithered between the trees, disappearing impossibly from it’s position as it hid itself perfectly between a tree too thin to hide even a single of the smaller wolves. Foundation Realm. Ram’s heart dropped, plummeting into his stomach and threatening to go further. The boys looked on, frozen in fear. Gulan fell to the floor, staring listlessly as a head the size of his torso peeked it’s way out from a branch twenty feet up. The Forest grew in tempo, it’s usually quiet and dim whispers turning into a jumble of shouted sentences that threatened to overwhelm Ram.
Face it like a man, it spoke.
Run and hide, the boys are dead anyway.
This is your chance for power, attack now.
You have provided for the village your whole life, just run, Fuili knows you’ve earned it.
“There,” The Forest said, more clear and concise than Ram had ever heard it. It sounded like a woman, proud and regal, standing above all others as it looked down upon him, stating the obvious as one would to a child. A shadow flickered in the spot it had chosen.
Ram was moving before his brain even had time to catch up. He caught himself mid step in the realisation that he was running to his death. The wolf had jumped from the shadow of a root, it’s full size coming to bear as a mountain of grey fur lunged for Jorgier, jaw wide open in slathering anticipation. When his foot hit the ground, Ram planted it, grinding the ball of his foot into the grass as he put into it more force than ever before. He rocketed off of the ground, blistering across the clearing towards Jorgier. It wasn’t even close. It had almost reached Jorg, fangs bared and claws scythed. Again, Ram hit the ground, a hoarse growl tearing out of his throat as he put his very lifeblood into his next step. Ram felt something in his brain snap, like the last crack in a dam that gave way to the raging water. His entire body felt a beat lighter, and Ram almost tripped as his next step carried him twice the distance of his previous. The wolf seemed to be moving slower now, but alas, it was upon the boy, and Jorgier would be a corpse by the time Ram reached him.
A blur of muted colour intercepted the wolf, colliding into it with enough force to send a crack through the forest floor. It made the sound of Ram’s impact against the tree seem like a whisper in comparison. The wolf barked a harsh yelp, flying off and colliding against the mudded ground across the clearing. It rolled a few times, then righted itself, black claws long enough to decapitate a man digging into the grass, tearing a trench tens of meters long. It climbed shakily back to it’s feet, rage colouring it’s eyes, and Ram felt the air around him condense, his organs tightening painfully inside his body as each breath became a chore. Ram reached Jorgier, swinging the boy around him until he stood in front of the boy, one arm stretched out to guard him while the other pointed the dagger toward the wolf.
Stood in the spot where Jorgier should have lost his life was a raven haired young man short enough to match the most average village boys. He wore a purple shirt, unbuckled half way up, and a pair of loose trousers that were tied with one of the strangest contraptions Ram had ever seen. It looked as though someone had stolen a section of a sailor's rope and took dye to it. However, even despite Ram’s short glance, it was enough to confirm to him something as strange as it was discomforting. He was cityfolk. You simply didn’t get cloth like that in rural areas.
“Many thanks, friend.” Ram started, eyes plastered on the alpha Direwolf. “I owe you a life for saving the boy, I just hope we can survive long enough for that to count for anything.” Ram said sardonically.
To his shock, the young man let out a short, cynical laugh. “If I deal with the big one, do you think you can keep the little ones busy?”
Ram tried to answer the man, but his words failed him. Ram had tasted the arrogance of cultivators before, but he was hard pressed to find one who could stand tall in front of a Foundation Realm Direwolf and treat it like a mere nuisance.
Without an answer, the man darted forward to meet the alpha in single combat. Two smaller wolves separated from the pack, flanking the man from each side.
“Behind y--!” Ram shouted, but was cut off when louder commotion roared from behind him. The wolfpack was incensed, all pretense of play gone as each of them pounced for the boys. Ram sprinted toward them, belatedly noticing in his rage how quick he had become, and with all of his strength, sliced downwards, bringing down the jagged dagger onto the nearest wolf's neck. A line of red drew itself down the wolf's fur, then spurted as the wolf’s head separated from its body.
Feeling a fire lit deep within him, Ram brought himself up to full height, dagger pointing outward as he bellowed a wordless challenge to the remaining wolfpack, losing himself to rage as he darted about the clearing, each cleave and swipe claiming the life of a wolf. Blood coating his being, Ram bellowed into the morning dim, and to his surprise, the wolves looked positively terrified. It only served to fan his flames. Ram swung the dagger in a wide arc, and the last of the wolves took off, running in separate directions for the safety of the inner region.
Ram turned to check on the boys, but his foot slipped from under him, and before he knew it, he was face down on the forest floor. He tried to gather his wits and get himself up, but his muscles wouldn’t respond to him, too weak to even right himself from the awkward position he had fallen in. He needed to get up, to make sure they were all safe, to help the stranger with his fight against the Direwolf. Weights dragged down upon his eyelids, and the last thing Ram noticed as he drifted out of consciousness was the corpse of the alpha wolf slumped in the clearing, a sword protruding out of its forehead.