"There. That should do it." The old man said as he finished dressing Balts wounded leg. "You should probably head on home now. I'm sure your folks are going to give me an earful later and I'd rather not lug around dead weight."

Balt sighed. The old man was right. He'd been holding him back the entirety of the hunt and his carelessness had led to an unfortunate run in with a wild boar. He had panicked and as a result tripped over a stray branch acquainting himself with the ground. Luckily old man Hubery had decided to join him turning Balts usual day of foraging and checking rabbit snares into a full fledged hunt.

"Cuts and bruises." Balt said under his breath.

Hubery raised a muddled brow. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?" He asked.

"Cuts and bruises mean nothing to a warrior. If you can move you can fight." Balt said proudly as he puffed his chest.

A chuckle escaped from Hubery. "Is that so? Your brother teach you that?" He asked as he placed a hand upon Balts shoulder. "Cuts and bruises may mean nothing to a warrior but to a hunter it is a matter of life and death. What if I hadn't been here and you somehow managed to fend off that boar? With merely cuts and bruises to show for. You become weakened prey for when it returns or for something else. Fight when you can, run when you can but always aim to survive."

Balt scrunched his face and shrugged away Huberys hand. What he had said struck a chord. Though something deep within knew the old man was right he couldn't bring himself to admit that what he had been taught was wrong.

" Is that why you're no longer a soldier? Because you ran?" Balt blurted.

Taken aback, Hubery slowly arose from Balt. Though young the boys tounge cut deep. A soldier once, yes. A coward. Never.

"Listen here boy. I've heard enough of you for today. Now you go on and make your way home. I'd hate see how you hunt when night falls." Hubery growled behind gritted teeth.

"Fine." Balt snorted as he struggled to stand. "I was getting tired of this hunt anyway." He lied.

Now with both feet planted on the ground Balt patted down his clothes of any dirt and debris then proceeded to turn his back on Hubery and make his way home. It would be a long walk and a lonely one at that. His leg did bother him but he wouldn't let Hubery see; though his apparent limp made that difficult. Nevertheless Balt trudged on.

Hubery kept his gaze on the brat until he was beyond the tree line and out of his sight. He knew the boy would be safe as long as he didn't stray from the path that he had layed; Balt was smart enough to know that and any doubts Hubery may have had quickly dispersed. A heavy sigh escaped from Hubery. He didn't enjoy getting angry with the boy and his company was pleasant on hunts, even if he was careless. Still, there were times it was best that he hunt alone. Times such as these.

It was back to the hunt and Huberys prey was no longer deer nor rabbit nor bird. His prey was a 300 pound, four foot, rampaging tusked beast. It would make a nice pelt; perhaps he would hang it on his wall or place it on his cabin floor. Either way it would make an interesting conversation piece. Hubery steeled himself. It wouldn't be easy killing the boar but it would be fun. He made his way over to a nearby by tree where he had rested his bow and quiver. Six arrows remained in the quiver each having their own unique colored feathered fletching. Along with his ranged weaponry he carried two daggers, both sheathed to each leg.

Hubery, now equipt with the tools of his trade, was off. Tracking the boar was simple enough; considering he had already released one arrow into the beasts back side. Blood along with a mess of disturbed leaves and broken twigs quickly led him through the thick of the forest and up to the edge of a small lush clearing. It was there he stopped. A gentle breeze brushed against the overgrown grass. Any other day it would bring him some form of serenity but today it wrought something unnerving.

He could see the boars head protruding the greenery from where he stood; that wasn't the problem. To the boars left lay the rest of it. Something had beaten Hubery to his prey and he feared it still remained. He had taken a step back when he noticed multiple small hands reach out from the grass and pull the boar carcass in. Goblins, even worse grey ones. What they lacked in size, strength and intelligence they made up for in numbers. Though those exact numbers were unknown to him, Hubery at least had eyes on two; as they had so boldly decided to reveal themselves. The odds of him out running the grey goblins was fairly slim. Maybe he'd get lucky but most likely not. Fighting was his only option.

Taking a deep breath he seamlessly pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, aimed at the goblin on the left and released. The arrow sped hitting its mark in the chest. The second goblin let out a panicked yip and made its way quickly into the cover of the thicket. If there was any better time for Hubery to make a break for it that was his chance.

---

Balt had finally made it out of the forest. It had taken him longer than expected as he had made the decision to stray from the path and forage some berries that grew near the river; they were always sweeter from there. Of course, he knew Hubery wouldn't approve but he wasn't there to scold him. No, he knew better.

"What is done is done." He told himself. "The old man will have calmed down by tomorrow and everything will be back to normal."

Looking back towards the forest Balt grew uneasy; something was off he could feel it. Perhaps the boar had returned and attacked the old man leaving him bloody and dying. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He shouldn't be thinking of such things. Hubery was his mentor and a friend. It was because of this that Balt began to mull over what he had said to him in the forest. Hubery always had the best of intentions at heart when it came to him.

"Guess I'll apologize tomorrow." He said as he kicked the ground, popped a berry into his mouth and faced homeward. "Wonder what mom's cookin'."

---

Five arrows, five soon to be well placed shots and most definitely not five goblins. Hubery hadn't managed to get very far before hearing the countless yips coming from behind; coming towards him and for him. Quick thinking, right. That's what scaling up a tree amounted to. Hubery perched himself up high waiting for the opportunity to rain hell down on the goblins. He knew all to well that a misplaced shot would most likely lead to his demise. So every arrow had to hit its mark. That's where the tree came in. He'd be able to see them coming before they saw him, assess the situation, then kill the grubby grey bastards. Well, at least five of them.

The yips grew louder which meant they grew closer. It wasn't long before he caught sight of them. All ten of them; seven of which wielded daggers while the remainder held makeshift short spears.

"Well, shit." He whispered.

They were most certainly a nuisance. Five for five; he wouldn't try anything fancy. No two for one deals. Too risky. He could just let them run by but that would lead to more trouble later. It was best he take care of them now. On that note an arrow left the quiver and prepared to meet its new fleshy pincushion.

The arrow zoomed passed one of the dagger wielders and pierced the first spear goblin through its neck. It dropped to the ground with a gurgled yip. At that moment Hubery nocked another arrow and released it. The remaining nine had already began to scatter making their way towards cover. Which meant, instead of hitting the second spear goblin the arrow tore its way through one of the others. Not the intended target but still one less.

Hubery readied his next shot. Now that the goblins had cover he would have to be vigilant. At first there was silence but that soon broke with the rustle of a bush and a following thud of a spear puncturing the trunk of the tree. A close call. A little to the left and that would have been it. Hubery was glad; not only had a goblin given away its position, it had inadvertently bestowed another weapon to use against the little shits. He released the arrow into the bush. A pained yip affirmed that he had hit his mark. Seven goblins remained and his last two arrows were itching for the taste of blood.

The next few moments were a blur. The goblins, having become increasingly agitated, began to move. That was all Hubery needed. Careless actions, snapping twigs and two well placed shots from the hunters' bow ensured that it had become a five on one dance. Victory was so close he could taste it; that taste was short lived. A sharp pain shot through him as his balance escaped. Reaching for the embedded spear he attempted to reclaim his fleeting footing but only managed to dislodge it. Time, for a moment, seemed to freeze as he caught a glimpse of an injured, not dead, cackling goblin. With a heavy painful thud Hubery found his place on the ground.

The little grey bastards all popped there heads out of hiding and made their way to Hubery. Even the injured one began to slowly crawl its way over. Hubery had never let go of either the spear or bow on his way down. So when one of them leaped and landed on his chest he quickly forced it off, rolled over and plunged the spear through its heart. Hubery, moving to his feet, leered at two oncoming goblins. What followed next was the unsheathing of his daggers and their fierce journey into the chests of the two.

Three goblins remained. One injured while the other two halted and were quickly losing moral. The duo that had stopped their advance looked to each other, took a step back and turned tail. Hubery wouldn't give chase. No, there was no need. His goal was home but his focus was crawling away. The goblin couldn't escape Huberys snail like pace and yet it still chose to try and flee. With a heavy kick to its side the goblin rolled over to meet Huberys gaze. A quick examination of the goblin fed Huberys curiosity. His arrow had pierced through both of the goblins legs. He wondered if any others that had taken cover survived. If they had then now was the opportune moment to strike but nothing happened. Dropping to his knees Hubery went in for the kill.

The goblin began its struggle for survival as Huberys hands wrapped around its neck. Hubery winced in pain as the goblin dug its claw like nails into his arms. That only made him squeeze harder. Strangling the little bastard brought joy to Hubery; so much so that he grew a wicked grin.

"Die you piece of shit!" He screamed, squeezing even harder. "Just fucking die!"

A few violent shakes and thwacks of the goblins head against the ground finally brought it to its end. No more wheezing no more fighting. The goblin was dead. Hubery stood up, spat and delivered a kick to the motionless body. With that he too was done.

Taking a few moments Hubery reminded himself that he was no longer a soldier. He was a hunter. Killing for survival had become his way of living. No more was he supposed to take pleasure from it. That was not the case. He enjoyed slowly killing that goblin. These feelings he had to shake but it would not happen soon. Hubery came to his senses when the noise became increasingly louder. Yips. Yips. Yips. More goblins. The two that ran must have gone for reinforcements. Damn them.

"What to do?" He asked himself.

By the sound of it there was going to be more that ten this time and Hubery was worn. There was no way he could continue to fight on his own and with night approaching his chance of survival would drop to zero. He knew what he had to do and had just enough strength to do it. He sauntered over to his bow procuring it and then proceeded to retrieve the arrow that had claimed the life of the first spear goblin.

"O, great god Azar," He beckoned. "grant me thine flame that I may illuminate the darkness and seek vengeance on mine enemy."

The arrow began to burn a bright red. He still had it. Azars blessing. Aiming towards the sky he fired.