The Hunter

[Airan]

Name: Ashtad
Species: Adder
Gender: Male
Age: 36

Footpaws sent tremors through the earth and voices echoed, alerting Ashtad to the approaching angry mob. The great adder threw a coil over his head in an attempt to block out the noise, but the raucous villagers refused to leave even after a painfully long delay.

With a low mutter the snake uncoiled, sliding down from his hibernacula. The crowd had shoved a plump dormouse over the precipice and were raining down curses and stones as he grasped for pawholds, desperate to escape. Sighting the serpent, the beasts above pointed and shouted with excitement. The dormouse shrieked as the snake's coils curled about him, dragging him kicking and clawing back into his lair.

There was a scream, then silence.

Once he was sure the villagers had abandoned the spectacle, Ashtad released the dormouse, letting him catch his breath. "You might wait a while to be sure they are all gone before you leave," he advised.

"You mean... y-you're not going to eat me?" The dormouse panted, eyes wide.

"Nothing personal. Truly, you look like a very satisfying morsel, but I just ate two days ago."
The dormouse blinked.

Ashtad sighed. "Unlike you fast-burning warmbloods, I only need to eat once a month." He patted his belly with his tail, exhibiting the lump that used to be a highway robber.

"Martin's ghost!" The dormouse raised a shaking paw to his forehead. "I was sure I was a goner."

"Yes, well, stick around for a couple more weeks and I might find some room."

The dormouse laughed nervously, glancing around as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. A nest of cotton-stuffed silk took up half of the space while a lantern hung from a peg nearby, highlighting several shelves carved neatly into the sides of the burrow. They were filled with feathers, papers, bottles, and even...

"Books?" The dormouse gaped incredulously. "You can read?"

"My dear fellow, try to contain your shock. Being an adder does not make me a mindless monster."

"Well you do eat beasts. Some would call that monstrous."

"Think of it more as... providing a service." Ashtad hissed. "Your village seeks justice. I seek a meal. Quid. Pro. Quo." He drew himself back into his comfortable bed.

The dormouse glanced at the burrow exit, then back at the adder. He swallowed, licking his dry lips. "So you're lazy."

Ashtad's head flashed forward, stopping just in front of the dormouse's flinching face. Vertical pupils took in the other beast with an unblinking glare. "I'm starting to sense that you actually do wish to die." A pause, then Ashtad slid away, tail brushing across the bindings of his meager library. "You are suggesting I hunt for my own food?"

"I am suggesting you hunt for the truth instead of trusting others to pass judgment," the dormouse replied. "You say you're offering justice, yet you don't even know the facts. You're more an... obedient pet than a judge."

Ashtad hovered over the dormouse again, tasting fear with a flick of his tongue. "You know I don't have to eat you to kill you."

The dormouse ignored the threat and gestured at the shelves. "I noticed you have McNally's 'Ethics and Truth.' Why keep such a book if you don't care what's right and wrong? True and false?"

Ashtad knocked the dormouse to the ground. "And can a criminal lecture on what is right and wrong?"

"I am not a criminal." The dormouse returned hoarsely. "I was framed."

"Intriguing." Ashtad's coils rasped against each other as he moved in place. "Prove it and I promise, I will help you find true justice."

[Airan]

Name: Kew-Kew
Species: Wearet
Gender: Male
Age: 25

"Kraw! KRAW! KEEERAW!"

Margaret shivered, and quickened her pace. She had strayed from the path to pick up some daisies and was now paying the price for it.

Thwack!  A pair of spears buried themselves inches from her feetpaws, their shafts quivering in front of her.

"KRAAAAW!"

Margaret hurried past the spears, oblivious to the shadow that followed her through the treeline. An arrow whistled past, trimming her whisker tips. The mousemaid failed to suppress a sob and stumbled over a stray root. Had she not done so she might have been crushed by the boulder that crashed into the ground in front of her.

"Kraw! Kraw! Who goes through the land of Kew-Kew?"

A horrific creature dropped down from the foliage above. A black mask of fur lay over wide, curious eyes that stared down at the mouse. It's tail and arms were bare, muscular and lined with a few stray strands of fur. It wore a skirt of feathers and carried a jagged spear in one paw.

"Who be you?" The creature demanded, sniffing at the mouse.

"D-don't-" Margaret sat up swiftly, and did her best to back away from it's frightening countenance. "Don't come closer."

The creature snorted and crouched down on all fours. "I is only sniffing." It jabbed at her with his spear. "Mousey-thing stinks of fear. Smells worse than I does! Hihihihi!" It composed itself, and went on. "She should be careful. Mouse is in eagle-territory."

"Eagles?" She swallowed and eyed the trees around her with worry.

The creature nodded, grinning wide. He placed a paw on his chest. "Lotsa eagles eatta lotsa mousies. But I is not that kind of bird. Mouses big yucky! Kew-Kew like other eagles more!" He leaned in conspiratorially. "And sometimes eggses!" The creature sat down besides her. "I tried mousey-thing once, just de tail-part." The creature pulled a face and pretended to retch.

Margaret might have found the motion sympathizing were she not terrified beyond wit.

"Sorry I scares you. Trapses were meant to catch other, more yummy thingies."

"So you set up the spears?"

"Yes yes! And the big stone! Kew-Kew did it all by himself!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I is smart."

"Y-yes. Very smart." Margaret cleared her throat hopefully. "The smartest eagle there is."

"Mousey thing is kind." The rugged beast appeared to be blushing, and wrapped his strong arms around her in what might have been a hug. "It is also easy preything."

"Aaaaaaaah!" Margaret felt the air rush past her. Had she been thrown? Was she flying? Was she dead? Her back hit a branch, and suddenly she lurched downwards again. "OOOF!" She came to a sudden halt, now suspended a hundred feetpaw off the ground.

"H-how...?"

"Kew-Kew is smartest eagle because Kew-Kew hunts other eagles!" The strange creature bragged, appearing on a branch at her level. "When eagle come swooping for mouseything I swoops down on eagles!"

"S-so I'm the bait!?"

"Keeragh! Smart mousey-thing!" He tapped her on the nose. "Yes, yes, you is bait! Catch Kew-Kew biggest eagle and I frees you, yes? Big eagle kill mother of Kew-Kew, I wants te kill biiiiig eagles!"
 
"B-but you're not an eagle!" She tried to protest.

"I is." He said stubbornly, once more tapping her nose. "I is biggest, bestest, hungriest eagle!" He tapped at the feather's on his skirt. "Eagle that eats eagles! And if I is not eagle... what is I?" He waited all of three seconds, his eyes wide in wonder, as if seeking the answer, before licking the mouse across the face. "Don't worry. Kew-Kew always catches something."

[Airan]

Name: "Old One"
Species: Wolverine
Gender: Male
Age: Old

Old One came down from the north, where the night was long and the world was empty. He came to the land of plenty when the snow fell and his bones ached. Long ago, before he was the Old One, the icy winds had merely gnawed at his body like a teething pup. He could run for days, passing through the drifts and along the edges of the glaciers with sure footpaws. Nothing escaped his relentless chase— not even the Great Horned Ones, with their towering legs and endless gait.

But the Long Dark passed and passed again, and each time the days returned he felt his muscles stiffen, watched his prey dwindle into the shining snow more and more often. He knew what it meant. The cold would eat his bones eventually, as it did with all beasts. So he made his way south, to the verdant lands he now roamed. Here he prowled with menace, despite the unfamiliar terrain. The blind fear in their rolling eyes showed that the creatures who inhabited these forests had never run from a true predator, and hunts were often swift and uncomplicated.

Before him laid the victim of such a hunt. He stalked it for hours, growing familiar with its sight and scent, but up close the long, scaly tail and large, flat teeth seemed unnatural. The strange beast lay thrashing in the dirt, pinned to the ground by a large wooden spear. He stepped toward the Fallen One and leaned over its twitching body, placing a heavy paw on the shaft of the spear. The thick weapon pierced clean through the beast's throat. Its trembling paws clawed at the earth, tearing up chunks of dirt, then scrabbled at its neck, at the spear, at the earth again, spreading a dark and swirling stain. Old One lifted the spear with a grunt and, after threading a thin cord through minute holes in the shaft, slung it across his back.

Blood flowed freely from the Fallen One's throat now. As it hacked and spat it reached out and grabbed at Old One's legs, eyes wide and pleading. Its mouth moved desperately, shaping a silent stream of unheard words. Old One stared intently at its mouth, but could not reshape the words it tried to form. After a moment, he decided that this task was futile. Instead, he crouched by its side, ignoring the dull throb in his legs, and minded the life as it slowly faded from the Fallen One's eyes.

Old One began to hum, one of the old songs he had sung in the north to the Great Horned Ones when the life drifted from their eyes as it did from the Fallen One's now. He did not know if the song worked for these new creatures as it did for the old, if their life would catch the tune and spread through the vast and endless skies. But Old One liked to sing, though he could no longer hear the notes lilting through the air. He liked to imagine his song carrying life to the very end of the world.

The hum echoed through his chest and flowed through his bones, washing away the familiar ache. Soon, the Fallen One ceased twitching, and Old One allowed his song to trail off. He stripped the garments from the limp body and, rising slowly, slung it across his shoulders. Today he would not go hungry. He had come down from the north, where the ice and snow had fangs. Now he walked a land of seasons, where even the weakest could thrive.