“It’s a hopper,” Oren yelled, breaking the silence. His neck muscles tensed as he clutched his sword. “Stay down and lay flat.”

Max hugged the ground, barely elevating his head enough to view his surroundings. There were long grooves in the sand from where the beast’s tail whipped against the ground. Two enormous footprints were up ahead. They stood alone with no tracks. “Where is it?”

Whoosh

A razor-lined tail whipped through the air again, missing Max and Oren who were flat to the ground. Small spikes lined the tail, punctuating its otherwise smooth contour.

“Hopper’s behind us,” Oren said. “It knows we’re here. We have to act fast.”

“How do we kill it?” Max asked.

“Kill it?” Oren said. “We don’t kill hoppers.”

Max was confused. He’d, of course, heard of hoppers but had never seen one in real life. There must’ve been a reason the hunters never took back a dead one.

“Hoppers are fast for diabolen but they scare easily enough,” Oren said. “Easier to scare them off than fight one. Follow my lead. I want you to stand up and shoot it right in the belly, it'll probably run off.”

Max still hadn’t caught sight of the creature. That thing was fast.

Whoosh

Oren gripped his sword, his mouth tilting to one side. In an instant, he stood up and raised his sword. "Now," he yelled, pointing at a shadowy figure a dozen meters from them.

Max followed his lead and carefully aimed his bow.

"Fire now," Oren said, lunging for Max.

Releasing the bowstring, Max's arrow soared wide as Oren tackled him to the ground a moment before the creature's next attack.

Whoosh

The hopper leaped toward them, flicking its tail, this time nicking Oren in the leg.

"Ahh," Oren cried, placing his hand on the wound. His face contorted in pain and he struggled to speak. "It leaps at regular intervals. If you understand its tempo, you can time your fire and your dodges."

"Are you okay?" Max said, nodding. He crawled over to examine Oren's leg. The cut was a surprisingly long but shallow slash across his uncle's thigh. Blood rushed out.

"Yes," Oren said. "Hoppers are not poisonous but their cuts bleed like crazy. Need to apply gauze, but first, we need to get rid of that thing. Do it fast before I lose too much blood."

"Got it," Max said, still uncertain of himself. Did he have what it took to scare off a hopper?

Whoosh

The tail flicked, this time missing them both. Max used the tempo to his advantage and stood up. He locked eyes with the hopper. The creature was at least ten feet tall and had glowing eyes and vicious teeth. It would kill a grown man in an instant. The creature had long perked ears, short arms, and two enormous clawed feet. It looked like a cross between a rat and a kangaroo.

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Max raised his bow and this time he didn't take his time but fired on instinct. The shot again went wide. The creature was too far away and moving too quickly. It leaped, directly toward him, hissing through its fanged mouth.

The creature must've sensed their weakness, or smelled the blood. It attacked.

With no time to draw his bow, Max instead grabbed his uncle Oren's sword. The charging hopper bounded forward, leaping on one foot after another. It looked like it wanted to sink its teeth into Max and Oren and rip them both to shreds.

Max waited for the right moment and timed his strike. The hopper was a moment from him. He could see it clearly in the dark, every detail in its hide, every movement of its body. It was as if—no it couldn't be— it was as if he could even see into its mind and read its intentions. He just needed to —

Slash

Max sliced quickly with his uncle's blade at the same instant that the hopper lunged forward. He simultaneously sidestepped, avoiding the fanged attack.

The hopper fell to the ground with a thud. Max's blade had cut clean through its spinal cord and it died on the spot.

....

"Kid did good on his first hunt," Casimir said, checking the bandage around Oren's wound. "Bandage is done up nice too."

"What happened?" Anton asked, adjusting the dead oryx that was tied to a small sled. "Hopper nearly the better of you."

"It was my fault," Max said, stepping in. "I let my guard down and Oren protected me. Got slashed while he was doing it."

"That's not entirely fair," Oren said. He used his staff to pull himself up. "You saved my life, Max. On your first hunt no less."

"He's got a real talent," Casimir said. "Like his pa." He patted Max on the back.

"See you got an oryx," Max said. "That'll feed half the town."

"And my favorite," Casimir said. "Bone broth soup."

"We can eat the hopper too," Anton said. "Don't forget."

Max gave a disgusted look, the tendons in his neck tensing. Diabolen were not the tastiest food to eat. Higher forms of diabolen was made of corrupted flesh gave little to no real sustenance. Lesser forms like a hopper might keep them from going hungry though.

"How did you manage to kill it?" Casimir asked. "We usually just scare 'em off. But I'll take it."

"I don't know," Max said. "It was like I could see its intentions. I knew when and where it would strike."

"Funny that," Anton said, smiling. "Sound just like your pa."

"Alex could do that sometimes," Oren said. "I don't know how he did it but he pulled us out of more scrapes than I can count."

"Like father, like son," Casimir said.

"Still," Oren said, shaking his head. "It shouldn't have come this close. If anyone is to blame, it's me. We shouldn't have split up unless we'd have had a bigger group."

"Diabolen scatter," Anton said. "It is what they do."

"I don't understand," Max said. "What do you mean?"

"Diabolen means to scatter," Casimir said. "It's the etymological root of the word."

"Well, they did scatter us out," Anton said. "But lucky us. Unlucky them."

"Huh?" Max said. His interest was piqued.

"That's why they always speak in the plural," Oren said. "When they do speak, the diabolen are not one. They are many."

"Doesn't that make them weak?" Max asked.

"Exactly," Casimir said. "But they know how to scatter humans too, so that's what they try to do. Not that we always need to stick together during a hunt, but generally they do try to split up our hunting bands and attack smaller groups."

Max scratched his head. The explanation made sense. It was why the behemoth spoke as a plurality rather than from the first person. The creature had also sought to divide the town through its influence. It sought to scatter their unified will into a divided one that would cause infighting and conflict.

"I think that's what it waited for here," Oren said. "It waited until we split up and saw an opportunity. Then it attacked."

"Strange thing is why it didn't run away," Anton said.

"It smelled blood," Max said, looking at Oren's wound.

"Maybe," Casimir said. "Blood does attract them but normally hoppers are frightful types. Even in the face of a good meal, a hopper will opt to save its own skin."

"This is," Oren said. "Highly unusual."

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Hopper