It was never an easy job. But it was a necessary one. He stood in the still forest, watching and waiting for the sight of a wolf. Oh, wolves. If it wasn't a strange bear that a poor woman had complained ate her turnips, then it was wolves killing livestock. They were his grand foes. He had encountered them many times, and despite the differences between them and humans, he had seen the most incredible intellect come from them. It was as if he was playing the dance of hunting against a human instead of an animal. Yet, they were pests, and deserved to be dealt as such.
The hunter continued to romp, watching as the trees swished in the cool winds or as the lazy streams sparkled with beauty. He could've stayed for weeks in the forest, setting down traps all to find the untouchable wolf.
He stopped when he felt something peculiar get stepped on. He sighed, reaching down to check his boot. It was dung. Wolf dung. He wiped it off with his sleeve, groaning at the fact that he would be stuck with that smell for hours.
He scanned the region. The forest remained still and pleasurable. Yet, he was sure that something loomed under the surface. He ambled onward, climbing peaks of small hills and checking behind each bush. But then, he heard a cry.
He ran as fast as he could to the sound. Was it a lone villager? Had a wolf been caught in his traps? When he found the source of the cry, he stopped.
A poor puppy had gotten it's paw caught, it's fresh white fur now soaked with blood. Its mother, a beautiful silver-haired she-wolf, whinned uncontrollably and pranced around the puppy. When it saw the hunter, it snarled ferosiously, it's hackles raised and teeth bared. He attempted to step closer, hoping to help the puppy. The she-wolf didn't have it. She barked at him, snapping her jaw as she put it closer.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang in the air, and when the hunter turned around, the she-wolf was dead. A bullet went straight to her chest. His eyes widened. He wasn't alone.
"Hey. What brings you here?" An old man called. His face carried deep eyes and a pleasant smile. He had long, gray hair and bundled blue clothing. "Just hunting against wolves." The hunter responded. He was almost positively sure that it was wolves and not some other creature. There had been a 'monster' sighting that ate the livestock, and he had assumed it was a wolf.
The hunter approached the pup, attempting to open the trap that had engulfed its paw. When he did so, he picked the pup up, cradling the poor thing. The pup whinned, and blood continued to dampen it's paw.
"It's best that you take that poor thing out of it's misery. Nothin' will help it now." The old man called. The hunter nodded. "We'll see. I'll try to help it if I can. Don't want to waste a life." The old man nodded, but something seemed off with his expression. It was as if something had effected him. The hunter refused to show any expression on his apethetic face, hoping not to draw in unwanted questions and suspicions. As the hunter walked up to the old man, something seemed deeply odd: it was as if the old man smelled like blood. Granted, he was holding an injured wolf, but there was an extra fragrence in the air that originated from the old man. This again struck the hunter as odd.
"Let's go to my cabin. It's a short trek from here." The old man explained. The hunter nodded, although he was a little hesitant. He walked through the forest, nestling the pup ever so closer. "How'd you end up here?" The hunter asked. The old man grumbled. "Not all village folk are nice." The hunter kept pondering on the request he was given. It never said wolf. Something was attacking the livestock.
The hunter stopped for a moment after hearing a rustle in the bushes. "What's going on? You shouldn't be afraid." The hunter looked the old man in the eye. "Heard a rustle." He responded. "A big one." The old man sighed. "It's a forest. What would you expect?" The hunter shrugged, and continued on his path.
But he had a nagging feeling that something was off. The old man's mannerisms, his deep eyes, his strong will, it felt like something he knew so well. "You're an outcast, aren't you." The hunter's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't meant to say it outloud. The old man sighed. "If you're hear to yell at or patronize me, you best get going." The hunter nodded no. "I am too. I guess I moved on in a way, going from village to village."
"I trust no villages. I'm self-sufficient enough." The old man exclaimed with pride. "I've began to realize the value of having others to speak to. When I was younger, I loathed the idea of ever returning to a village. But it's a better life, being a hunter." The old man nodded. "That may be so." It was the only comment he gave for the rest of the trek.
When the cabin was in view, the old man took out his pistol. He examined it thoroughly, wiping any dust of it's sleek wooden frame. The hunter frowned. Hesitantly, he got out his own pistol, pretending to do the same while also craddling the pup. By now it was on it's last few moments of life, breathing slowly and seemingly unconscious. The hunter only hoped that he could give the poor thing some solemness.
When they arrived at the cabin, the old man allowed the hunter in first. The cabin was quant, but something smelled off about it. That was when the hunter saw the sheep fleece as a carpet.
Suddenly, he felt something at the back of his head. He put up one arm and dropped the pistol, still cradling the pup in the other. "Can I at least turn around before you kill me?" The hunter asked in the most calmest voice he could give, breathing heavily. It was not a creature, but the old man who had killed the livestock.
"Put down the pup. Let it die outside. It has barely any life left in it." The hunter couldn't help as tears welled up in his eyes. He placed the pup down. He saw from the corner of his eye as the old man kicked it outside. It still made a short whimper.
The hunter immediately put up his second hand. "Can I turn around now?" He asked, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. "Sure." The old man responded. The hunter did so. He reflected on his life as an outcast, on all the animals he had killed. Now, he was indeed the prey to the predator.
"Why do you choose to kill me?" The hunter asked, now facing the old man. "It's not personal. You were in the forest. One way or another, you would find who was really killing the sheep. Trust me, I despise of my village far more than I do of you."
The hunter watched the pup. It was now outside, using the last of it's feeble energy to push it's front legs forward. The hunter then saw on odd figure in the bushes. His eyes widened. It was time to stall.106Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ63n0kD5MHP
"What makes you think you won't get caught being a murderer?" The hunter insisted. "I probably will. I already have. The only distinction is that you are not part of that village. They won't care if you were killed by a wolf, or by a gunshot." The old man smiled. "I was hoping that I would draw out another man from the village. I would've loved to see the expressions on their faces. Really, I mean it when I say that-"
Suddenly, the pup yipped close by. "I thought it was dead already." The hunter now smiled, as the old man turned around. He kicked him in the stomach, causing him to fall. A shot rang through the air, but it missed the hunter. The old man immediately sat up again, now attempting to fight the hunter. He kicked him hard in the leg, dislocating it. The hunter screamed in pain. The old man reached for the gun as the hunter watched helplessly. He grabbed it, pointing it at the hunter.106Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfaVpRmc8A2
Suddenly, when all was lost, a gray-wolf lunged at the old man. It tore a piece of flesh off his body. The hunter grabbed his gun from the ground, shooting the old man in the head.
Then, he ran onward, limping as he did, back into the woods and away from the chaos. As he ran, he looked back one last time. The wolf had stopped attacking the old man, but now stared as the hunter attempted to run. The wolf could've easily gone back to attack the man, but he chose not to, instead choosing to watch and stay at peace.
A sense of wonder hit the hunter. For most of his adult life, he'd been fighting wolves and other creatures deep in the forest. He had thought that wolves were his greatest enemy. Now, he realized, wolves were indeed his greatest ally.
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