The 30 minutes passed in a heartbeat as the whole village gathered at its edge, the crowd buzzing with excitement. The sharp chill of the late afternoon air seemed forgotten as villagers jostled for a better view, eager to see off the competitors standing in a line before the forest. The trees loomed tall and dark around them, casting their dark shadows around everyone.
Standing at the heart of the contestants, Calder fought to steady his breathing. His heart was hammering in his chest, the adrenaline from the moment refusing to subside. When the chief had given them the time to gather their gear, Calder had sprinted back to his hovel, throwing together what little he could carry. Now he stood there, his father’s bow slung across his shoulder and his best arrows sitting snugly in their quiver, their fletching neat and ready for flight.
In his pocket, his father’s pin rested, the double-headed eagle’s edges cool against his fingers. He hadn’t planned to bring it, but at the last moment, he had slipped it into his pocket as a quiet reminder of what he carried—not just equipment, but a legacy. He clutched it briefly now, feeling the familiar grooves beneath his fingers before letting it go, his focus returning to the task at hand.
To his left and right, the other competitors stood in varying states of readiness. Some looked calm and confident, while others wore tense, determined expressions. At the edge of his vision, Dietrich stood surrounded by his entourage, smirking and speaking lowly to one of his men, his polished crossbow gleaming in the pale light. Calder’s jaw tightened as he looked away, his attention snapping back to the forest ahead.
The priest of Dialos moved down the line of competitors, offering final blessings. He murmured prayers as he traced the sigil of the gods on their foreheads with ash, wishing each hunter good fortune. When he reached Calder, the priest’s eyes sat on him for a moment as though he were studying him before he spoke.
“May your hands be steady and your heart true,” the priest said, his voice soft as he drew the sigil on Calder’s brow.
Calder nodded his thanks, murmuring a quiet, “I’ll do my best,” before the priest moved on. The ash felt cool against his skin, grounding him in the moment.
In front of them, the chief raised a hand, his voice cutting through the stillness. “You have until sundown tomorrow to return with your catch. Now, let the hunt begin.”
A horn sounded, its deep, resonant note echoing through the trees and into the crowd. The competitors moved as one, stepping into the forest’s shadowy embrace. Calder’s boots crunched against the snow-covered ground, the sound fading as the cheers of the villagers disappeared behind him.
The woods closed around him, and with them came silence. The kind of quiet that pressed against the ears, broken only by the occasional rustle of branches or the distant call of a bird. Calder adjusted his quiver, his hand brushing the familiar weight of his father’s bow as he ran.
The forest was a maze of towering trees and tangled undergrowth, but Calder moved with purpose, his eyes scanning for tracks, broken branches, or any sign of movement. The chill bit at his exposed skin, but he barely felt it, his focus sharp as a blade. He followed the faint trail of hoofprints he’d spotted earlier, the marks fresh and heading toward the thicker parts of the woods.
As he ran, his breathing steady, the sound of the village faded entirely, leaving only the rhythmic beat of his steps and the occasional creak of a swaying branch. The air here was heavier, laced with the earthy scent of pine and damp soil. The deeper he ventured, the more the forest seemed to close in, the trees growing taller and their shadows longer.
Calder slowed as the tracks veered toward a dense thicket. He crouched low, his hand brushing the ground as he examined the marks more closely. They were deep and deliberate, the kind left by something big. His pulse quickened as he straightened, nocking an arrow to his bowstring as he advanced carefully.
Through the branches, he caught a glimpse of movement—a flash of brown against the white snow. He froze, his breath catching as his eyes locked onto a massive elk standing in a clearing. Its antlers were wide and jagged, like the twisted roots of an ancient tree. The creature’s sheer size was staggering, its powerful frame dwarfing any elk Calder had ever seen.
He steadied his breathing, raising his bow and drawing the string back until it was taut. The world seemed to narrow to the point of the arrow, every sound and sensation falling away. This was it, the kind of kill that could win the competition—and secure his place in the village’s legacy.
But before he could release the arrow, the sharp twang of a crossbow broke the silence. Calder flinched as a bolt struck the elk’s side, the beast jerking and stumbling forward with a pained bellow. He whipped his head toward the sound, his stomach sinking as he saw one of Dietrich’s men emerging from the trees, lowering his crossbow.
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“Got it!” the man shouted, his voice echoing through the stillness as he strode confidently toward the elk, which staggered and collapsed onto its side with a heavy thud. Blood stained the snow where it lay, its massive frame heaving with labored breaths.
Dietrich emerged from the shadows moments later, his polished boots crunching against the snow with deliberate precision. His smirk widened as his gaze landed on Calder, who stood frozen with his bow still raised, the tension in the string slowly slackening.
“Well, well,” Dietrich drawled, his tone as smug as the gleam in his eyes. “You have a knack for finding the best game, don’t you, Calder? Too bad you’re always a step behind.”
Calder’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he lowered his bow, his fingers twitching against the grip. The elk groaned weakly, and one of Dietrich’s men moved to finish it off with a quick thrust of a knife.
Dietrich gestured toward the beast with an exaggerated flourish, as if presenting a prize. “Magnificent, isn’t it? This’ll look good on the chief’s table—and even better with my name attached to it.”
Calder exhaled slowly, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “You didn’t shoot it,” he said flatly, his voice low but steady.
Dietrich’s smirk didn’t falter. “Details, details. It’s not about who took the shot—it’s about who claims the prize. Isn’t that right?” He motioned to his men, who were already preparing to haul the elk away. “But don’t worry, Calder. I’m sure there’s still something out there for you. Maybe a rabbit or two.”
In his mind, Calder was so close to invoking Dialos’s holy name as he prepared to rip Dietrich a new one. The urge to lash out, to bury the sharp edges of his words into Dietrich’s smug face, burned hot in his chest. His fingers tightened on his bow, the leather grip creaking softly under the strain.
But he stopped himself.
Not here. Not now. A public outburst would only feed Dietrich’s ego, and Calder refused to give him that satisfaction. Instead, he took a slow breath through his nose, forcing his temper to cool just enough to keep his voice steady.
“Enjoy your head start, Dietrich,” Calder said evenly, his tone colder than the snow around them. “You’ll need it.”
Dietrich raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before returning in full force. “Oh, I will,” he replied, his voice dripping with mock politeness. “Do try to keep up, though.”
Calder didn’t bother responding. Instead, he turned sharply, his cloak sweeping the snow as he strode deeper into the forest. Behind him, he could hear Dietrich chuckling, his laughter grating against Calder’s ears like nails on stone.
Every step Calder took away from the clearing felt heavier, his frustration weighing on him. The elk had been his—it should have been his. But no amount of anger or regret would change what had happened. He had to let it go, to channel that fire into something productive.
The deeper he went into the woods, the quieter the forest seemed to grow. The usual sounds of rustling leaves and distant birds were muffled, replaced by the crunch of snow beneath his boots and the steady beat of his heart. The path ahead twisted and narrowed, the trees growing denser, their gnarled branches weaving together like a cage.
His frustration began to cool, replaced instead by cold, hard, determination. He scanned the forest floor for tracks, the trunks of trees for scratches, and the snow for any disturbance that might hint at the presence of something big. The faint scent of damp earth and pine filled his nostrils, mingling with the faint tang of his sweat as the effort of moving through the rough terrain began to set in.
After what felt like hours of silence, Calder spotted it—a fresh trail cutting through the snow. The hoofprints were deep, wider than anything he’d seen earlier in the day. His heart quickened as he crouched to examine them, brushing his fingers over the edges. They led further into the woods, toward an area where the trees grew so tightly together it was almost like stepping into another world.
He followed the trail carefully, each step deliberate. The forest here was eerily quiet, as though even the birds and smaller creatures avoided it. The air seemed thicker, harder to breathe, and Calder could feel the faint pull of exhaustion creeping into his muscles. Still, he pressed on, his determination burning brighter with each step.
Then, he saw it.
Through the trees ahead, a massive deer stood, its coat a silvery sheen that seemed to glow faintly in the ever-dwindling light coming through the canopy. Its antlers were enormous, curling like branches of an ancient oak, and its sheer size dwarfed even the largest elk Calder, perhaps even the village itself, had ever seen. The creature stood still, its head raised as if sensing something in the air, its breath visible in the cold.
Calder froze, his breath catching in his throat. Instantly, He crouched low, nocking an arrow to his bowstring as he steadied his breathing. This was it—his chance to outshine them all. Slowly, carefully, he drew back the string, the tension in his arms steady as he lined up the shot.
The massive deer stood perfectly still, its head raised and nostrils flaring as though sensing something out of place. Calder held his breath, waiting for the perfect moment. The forest seemed to narrow around him, the sounds of the world falling away until there was only the soft creak of his bowstring and the deer in his sights.
He loosed the arrow. It flew fast and true, striking the creature’s flank with a solid thud as it buried itself deep inside. The deer let out a deep, guttural bellow and staggered, its powerful legs digging into the snow as it tried to regain balance and run. Calder didn’t hesitate for even a moment. He reached for another arrow, drawing and firing in one fluid motion. This one hit the chest, just below the shoulder, and the deer reared back, thrashing wildly.
A third arrow followed almost immediately, burying itself deep into the beast’s side. It was with this arrow that the creature finally faltered, its massive frame swaying as it took a few unsteady steps forward. With a final groan, it collapsed onto the snow, the ground trembling faintly beneath its weight.
Calder lowered his bow, his breaths coming fast and shallow. For a fraction of a second, he had thought that the deer would get away but now saw otherwise. He approached cautiously, his heart pounding back and forth in his chest. Up close, the deer seemed even bigger than what he initially thought. Underneath its seemingly silver fur, muscles thicker than his arm could be seen. Pulling his arrow from the beast, he found that the first was almost buried entirely inside, forcing him to cut a small hole to pull it out fully. It was a prize unlike any other—a catch that could change everything.
He knelt beside it, placing a hand on its flank as he murmured a quiet thanks to Dialos. The deer's eyes were still open, its glassy gaze fixed on the sky above. Calder felt a strange mix of pride and unease as he stared at the creature.
“How am I supposed to move this thing?” he muttered, shaking his head. The deer's size made hauling it back alone seem impossible, but he had no choice. This was the moment he had been waiting for, and he wasn’t about to leave it behind.
Just as he began to consider how to tackle the daunting task, a sharp snap of wood behind him shattered his thoughts. Calder froze every muscle in his body tensing. Slowly, he turned his head toward the sound.
Standing there, saliva and blood dripping from its maw while yellow eyes pierced his very soul, was a dire wolf.