An hour after dusk, and thoroughly soaked by the downpour I’d gotten caught up in, I turned off the road, heading east into Crockover wood and towards the Maru river. There were three reasons for this: they would expect me to follow the road, the trees would keep me a little drier, and Fern had already ridden a lot today so needed the rest. There was a fourth reason as well. It was the most important reason, but I wasn’t ready to admit I was lying to myself just yet.

The trees in Crockover wood were all tall and wide, with a high and dense crown. That meant little undergrowth to slow Fern down. I loved places like this. Quiet and majestic, I could wander between trees like these for days.

I rode as silent as I could, enjoying the patter of the rain and the earthen smells of the forest around me. Completely alone, I found myself taking off my right glove. Sliding my thumb into the other glove I kneaded the palm of my hand. The soothing sensation as my thumb drew little circles on my skin calmed me even more than the peaceful atmosphere of the forest. Touch. I missed it.

Aaah… how long has it been since the last time I actually touched someone, skin to skin?

Metzus to skin?

Six months, that’s how long ago it was, and with the same person as well. Returning here, I hadn’t even known half of what I was missing. Shae had held my hands for only a couple of seconds. It had been too short and too long at the same time. “Still not scared of you,” she had told me, and instead of cherishing the moment I had glared at her. Now I wanted more, and doing it like this wasn’t the same, no matter how much I pretended otherwise.

Thinking back on it, she had done the exact same thing she did six months ago. She had made me feel human. More human, at least. No matter how much massaging my own palm soothed me, I could not ignore how dry and cold the skin underneath my thumb was, or how my claw scraped over my own flesh with every little circle I drew.

Even the unnatural paleness of my own hand stood out in this darkness, so I shoved it out of sight, feeling under my gambeson for the beating of my heart. Even that was a lie. I needed a heartbeat even less than I needed to breathe. I worked the muscle anyway, its steady rhythm carrying the hope that I was more than the unnatural vessel I showed the world.

My finger touched the cord of my necklace. I followed it down to the amulet resting further down on my chest. I gripped it, the silent hum of its runes warming my cold skin. It was still there, still working. I didn’t need to feel it to know it was doing its thing. I’d be dead if I ever stepped into the sun without it. Occasionally, I fingered it anyway. It was my most precious possession. Irreplaceable.

All too soon we reached the Maru. A little away from the water I picketed Fern. Never stubborn or ill-tempered, it was nice having a horse like her, a horse that endlessly endured all the abuse I threw at it. She could rest now. I would not.

These early hours of the night were liberating. Without the sun bearing down on me I could see. I could walk without fear of tripping over something I hadn’t spotted. I could run. I could go places without needing a horse to avoid getting lost. I could live without the constant searing rays of the sun wearing me down.

Most nights, while Fern slept, I wandered. Not all of it, just until a little past midnight. Tonight was not one of those nights. Taking along my blade I went on by foot. Following the river, I headed back upstream, towards the village.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The banks of the river were a mess. Giant tracts of mud and driftwood lined the sides. Broken trees and washed away undergrowth were all around me. The devastating power of that flood from six months ago was even more apparent than I had anticipated.

Once I got a little closer to the village I began looking for pawprints, tracks, broken branches, anything that could point me in the right direction. Anything that wasn’t yet washed away by the summer storm still pouring down out of the skies. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but I trusted that I would recognize it when I saw it.

While Shae hadn’t known what kind of creature had attacked uncle Tare, I had at least a couple of ideas. That was why I was searching the river bank. I wasn’t going to actually do this extermination job. That would be foolish. No, I was just looking for some extra information so that when I sent another hunter this way they’d at least have something to go on.

I took my time and tracked the way my father had taught me, relying only on what I saw and learned. It would be easy to use my nose as a crutch, so I rarely did. If tracking was easy, then I would become complacent. I couldn't afford that kind of laid-back approach.

At the edge of town, I brushed my soaked-through hair behind my ears, crouched behind a bush, and observed for a while. The only thing that moved was the curtain of rain pouring down from the heavens. The only sound a howling wind that sprayed water all over me, even here, hidden in the underbrush.

No one was out at this time of night, there never was in places like this. According to Shae they’d had to guard everything since the attack. Clearly, everything did not need guarding at night, or during a thunderstorm.

Hah! Idiots!

Creeping from shadow to shadow I resumed my hunt for tracks. The erosion caused by the river wasn’t quite as bad here as further down, but the damage was still clearly visible. Some clean-up work had obviously happened. The remnants of washed away buildings had been cleared out, and the pier had been rebuilt. A new mill was still under construction, as well as new housing slightly further away from the river.

A large stack of felled trees lay on the bank near the pier. Those trees were the reason Birnstead was here. It was a town built around logging. The river was used to drive the felled trees to the much larger sawmills downstream in Rivenston.

I found the first semblance of tracks under the pier, faded, half washed away by the water. I measured them, then ran a finger through the mud and brought it to my nose. Ahuizotl. An ambush predator, sort of halfway between a wolf and an otter. They generally don’t come this far south, so the winter flood must have brought them here.

They lived in small family units and weren’t all that dangerous. Until late summer, that is. That’s when the babies hatched and more food was needed. After second harvest that small family unit would have grown to a dozen ravenous beasts.

I scowled as I cataloged every last trace I could find of the creatures. It was the latter half of summer, dangerously close to that second harvest. I’d need to see if I could find a den, prayed there wouldn’t be one. Three days to Rivenston meant it would be a week before another hunter could get here, assuming that there even was another hunter present in Rivenston, and that I could convince them to come here. Those were a lot of ifs.

The more plausible scenario was that I’d need to submit an extermination request and wait for another wandering hunter to stumble into Rivenston and take interest. That made two to three weeks a more realistic timetable. Without night guards the people here didn’t have those two to three weeks.

So foolish of them, chasing off the one hunter that could have helped them.

How could they be this dumb?

It was only a matter of time before the people working near the river would be attacked a second time. When that happened it would no longer be just the one overly-curious ahuizotl taking a small nibble. It would be a slaughter. I needed to figure out how bad it was, get another hunter out here as fast as I could. I swept my gaze over the riverbank, surveying all the places that showed signs of work, logging, rebuilding…

Oh… oh…

Rebuilding…

Onar’s helping with that.

If he gets attacked...

Shae…

I really needed to find that den.