( unknown POV )

The sun glints golden off the waves of windswept grass, a tide of dry heat made manifest. Within the rattling blades, a hundred quiet stories are being told by a thousand scuttling creatures, and today the hunting party tells another. Slowly, the ripples of our passing lost in the undulating wind, we spread out with deadly purpose. Ahead, the herd of savanna Candur graze and watch. They are always vigilant, but today they have good reason.

At eighty strides distant, we are undetectable, ghosts in the pasture. At sixty, we would take a seasoned watcher’s intuition by surprise. By forty, however, the real challenge begins. One of the males, orbiting the herd, raises its plumed head and scans the horizon. A novice would freeze, and make themselves conspicuous by their stillness. I sway with the wind, just slightly, letting the covering stalks follow their natural rhythm. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a younger hunter tense his legs, ready to spring into pursuit, but I raise a hand in caution.

Patience, stealth. Success.

After a long moment, the male turns away, and walks back towards the center of the flock. The herd drifts in eddies, and for a minute it edges gradually away from us as a single creature. Then, the fluctuation ends, and the Candur calm. Perhaps the male spotted some momentary mistake from a hunter, perhaps not. Either way, disaster has been averted.

I wait another score of heartbeats to be sure, and then motion for the band to begin our approach once more. With a flick of my fingers, I command two to a flanking position. Reliable hunters, who I can trust not to alert the great birds.

Patience, stealth. Success.

I steady my breathing, and count each exhalation to give time for the flanking force to reposition. Thirty. Sixty. Ninety breaths of stillness, simply watching. The herd is large, maybe twenty birds. In the momentary calm, I finalise my count. Nine females, larger and stronger than the males, but slower and thus easier to bring down. They stand higher than the largest man, and are heavier and tougher to boot. Five fully-grown males, resplendent in the brightly coloured plumage that belies their speed and vicious talons. Each male carries a red streak of feathers, running from head to back to tail, the breadth and intensity of which shows power in the herd’s hierarchy. The wider the band, the more dangerous an opponent, and the more careful we’ll have to be should the creature turn and fight.

Finally, seven youngsters, smaller and clustered in the center of the herd, still clouded with the down that marks them as this year’s fledglings. They are the best protected, but normally the easiest prey. Today, however, the plan is more elaborate.

From behind me, an urgent whisper from Jor.

"We’re pushing our luck, Madok. Lani and Forgu have had long enough."

I nod, and spare a glance towards the position where they should be. I cannot see them, but of course that’s the point. Hopefully they’re watching, ready. Slowly, painfully slowly, we continue to close on the herd.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Patience, stealth. But now, action.

Once more I raise my arm, this time high enough that it can be seen by all of my hunters. Everything depends on choosing the right moment. Too early, and the Candur will flee before the trap is sprung. Too late and too close, and the mighty birds will fight, a bloodbath that could kill many of us.

The choice wasn't easy.

I shout loudly giving the signal for the attack.

"Now!"

At eighteen strides distant from the edge of the herd, we strike. The first volley of spears is the most likely to strike true, and thus we direct the hardened javelins exclusively towards the males. A few wasted spears are a low price to pay to ensure the herd retreats as one. This time we are lucky and our throws are good, all three of the nearest males go down.

No time to stop for the carcasses, however. Today we are more ambitious, more daring. As a wave of spears, we advance on the fledgelings.

It works. The Candur panic as a herd, and flee in a single feathered mass towards the nearest hillside. To my right, I see Lani and Forgu have emerged, spears outstretched, closing off the final escape route. The trap is sprung.

What the birds cannot grasp in their frenzy is that the hilltop is not what it seems. On the other side lies a cliff, at least twenty strides high, and once they reach it they’re unable to stop. In their terror, the Candur at the back push those at the front to their deaths, and then go to theirs at the points of our spears.

Candur are large and robust, their beaks and talons sharp. But today, they suffer the price of such strengths. They cannot fly. Today, we have engineered it to be their undoing.

As Yor and I reach the cliff top, the results of the day’s work are displayed below us.

"Well, would you look at that, eh, Madok! It worked! It actually damn-well worked! A whole herd! And with no hunters wounded!"

Jor exclaims jovially before laughing loudly and going around congratulating the other hunters.

I look at the blood-streaked carcasses below me, and for the first time wonder what the hell we’re going to do with all this meat. Fortunately, hunting is my task, but provisioning is not!

I turn away from the carnage and look for Lani.

When I see her I shout over some orders.

"Lani, get back to camp. The rest of us can manage the birds. Tell them of our success. Tell them that, tonight, we feast!!"

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(John POV)

I look up from the hunting party, displayed like toy soldiers below me, and blink the sweat from my eyes. Damn, but that was more tense than I had expected. I note a lone hunter, sprinting back towards the camp with news of success.

All in all, an excellent start.

Feeling happy with the progress we have made I turn to Jade.

"Jade, prepare to log out for today."

"Alright, John. Will we be continuing tomorrow?"

She asks.

"Yes. Yes, I rather think we will.”

I respond with a smile on my lips.