She inhaled deeply, the very air, cold as death, gripped her lungs in a burning embrace, as she carefully and deliberately let her feet fall in the snowy landscape of the forest. Each step disturbed the silence of the wintery scene, as small fauna scurried into the safety and warmth of their hides, frightened to action by the stranger among them. Still, further, she walked, traversing the tree roots and fallen debris of the growth and life of her surroundings. Her bow drawn and ready, made of short Whitewood, brushed through the taller undergrowth of the ancient tundra, she sensed she was approaching her quarry. Knowing the hunt was on, she halted her advance, and took a moment to centre herself. She had already been following this beast for nearly three nights and four days, with only faint tracks and small clues to guide her, it was a wonder she had even kept up with it this far. The Trakken are well known for being notoriously difficult to hunt, being that they are small and quick, and as conduits of fire, they can be very destructive when feeling threatened. She lowered herself carefully behind a large Whitewood tree and rested her body against its smooth pale bark. Pulling her canteen from her pack and taking a slow and long swig of the icy water, she recalled the horrifying visage of the village aflame. The screams echoed in her mind, the smell of charred flesh filled her senses once more, the heat was radiant and intense as the summer sun, the light burned your eyes, and the pain... she sobbed a silent tear, and replaced the lid of her canteen, gathering her equipment she moved on.
Picking up the Trakkens trail is difficult for most hunters, even veterans don't like to try and find these things, partly for the challenges of the hunt, partly because of their reputation for making hunters become prey. She pressed on keeping a sharp eye to notice the slightest of singes, the subtlest of changes to the angels of growth, small punches in the snow, in the trademark pattern of two feet, one foot; alternating. The Trakken tends to hop off of one hind leg at a time and use its front limbs to cushion the landing before leaping off the other hind leg to continue its bizarre shuffle. Knowing this as well as other insights is why she is such a revered hunter, even at the young age of 15. Hunting is a way of life for the Mal'Katai people, having lived for eternity at the base of the Headway mountains, far in the northernmost part of the world of Calanaar. A tough and rugged people, steeped heavily in traditions and culture of embracing the balance of the world itself and knowing one's place in it. As is the custom, on the eve of the 16th year, a hunter must find and hunt a beast of merit, of stature, something that shows they know their worth, skill, and value to the people. She woke up on the morn of this day expecting to hunt a Zebear, hulking things they are and a good target for your Commencement Hunt, or maybe the Kyrini, lighting fast conduits of air, not huge or strong, but very difficult to actually catch or follow with any success. Never would she have thought by that day's end, a Trakken would be her bounty, but it seems that by the time she returns to what remains of her home and her village, the beast would feel the sting of her arrow.
She heard it! The loud sound of the creature igniting its tongue, a signature hiss, followed by a low boom, ready for a strike. She quickly scanned the horizon, such that it was, blocked by the Whitewood trees growing higher than the eye could see, still, she hoped to spot the light from the beast. There, to the west, smoke, and flame. She hurried, staying low but readying an arrow in her bow, she knew that in reality, she had a single shot to fell the thing, or it would be upon her before she'd be able to stop it. Breaking through trees and flora in as stealthy haste as she could manage, she quickly rounded a large fallen log, and crouching behind it gave her a good blind to study her target. Crouching low, she observed the creature, waiting for her moment, and drew on her bow slightly in anticipation. Its body only a few feet long, sly and scaly, speckled red and black, was partially coiled around a Bunf, a small rodent with a large body and hind legs, and very large ears, its carcass charred black in the smouldering grip of this devilish nightmare. With its hind legs firmly planted in the ground, the forelimbs tipped with claws sharper than any blade, rip and tear chunks of the helpless rodent for the thing to consume in its fang-lined maw. As the grotesque display was unveiled, she pulled her bow up to take aim. Breathing slowly and deeply, she steadied her hand and lined up her shot. Time seemed to slow for her every time she was about to make a shot. She blinked, and became very aware of her eyes, feeling the breeze slightly sting as she struggled to keep them open against its touch. Her dark brown hair, tied tightly, and the few strands of it that had escaped in the softly blowing winter wind, wrapped and whipped across her hard features. Every slight shift on the string in her fingers and every fibre of the bow as it strained against the bend, waiting to release.
She took a final deep inhale and loosed her arrow. With a blood-curdling cry, the beast fell thrashing to the floor. A good hit, in the side of the head, but it was too far forwards, there's a chance the shot won't be fatal. After quickly weighing her choices, she decides the best course is to finish the creature off. As she approached, the Trakken was flailing and trying in vain to remove the arrow, she could feel its heat growing even from nearly 30 yards away. She had seconds before it would be too hot to engage. Instinct drove her action as she drew her skinning knife and dived for the terrifying sight of flame and blood in front of her. Gripping the knife in both hands, her aim was true and she landed hard on the creature, her body's weight driving the blade, plunging right into its left eye. Another screaming cry from the beast and a good twist of the blade later, it laid still. Panting and heaving, singes and burns on her armour and clothes, she slumped at the side of the body, still warm from its own heat, sweating and smiling. Knowing she had killed the creature responsible for the deaths of nearly 30 people in her village, including her baby brother, gave her only small comfort. Not more than three moons had passed since his birth, yet he would not even see his first year through, thanks to this serpentine monster. She wept, realising this was the first time she had actually stopped to fully realise what had been lost in the fires caused by the Trakken. Tears streamed from her as she curled up and sobbed into her hands, the adrenaline of the hunt was fading fast and the drive for revenge was satisfied. She felt so very empty, as she was alone in the cold, she cried herself eventually into a dreamless and long sleep.
When she awoke, it was night, and colder still. Shivering, she set about building a fire. After obtaining the needed pieces to build the fire lighting it was a short task and soon she was warming up nicely. She took some of the bread from her pack and ate her daily rations, and began to prepare the carcass of the Trakken. After skinning and gutting the animal, she laid it over the fire. As her well-deserved meal cooked over her small fire, she thought for a time about what the Huntmaster would say when she returns with a Trakken skin. She would be praised, revered, and celebrated, a truly worthy hunt, and she smiled thinking of the great feast that would be held to commemorate such an achievement. How the Longhall would be decorated and how the hunters from the lodge would come and share the stories of their own experience, their own Commencement, and the trials and wonders of hunter life. But, her smile dropped instantly when she remembered that the Longhall had been burned to the ground, and several of the hunters had been made nought but ash along with it, as well as Kendrick, the baker, and his wife Maria... Gone, Gwen, Helena, Reya, and Selene, used to gather herbs and flowers in the meadows all day for the apothecary, for meads, wines, and other delights... Gone... Thinking of never smelling the meads being boiled or the fresh lavender bread that was Kendricks's speciality made her eyes sting with tears once again and she decided that she should start home. Most wouldn't even think to begin such a journey at night, but whether it was confidence or fear driving her, she was determined to make her way now.
The fire was put out and buried. All her gear was strapped up and ready to go. She stood up straight and adjusted her darkened leather armour and near ink black linen clothes. She'd always felt like there were too many belts, buckles, etc. on hunter apparel but she knew that every one of them was there for a reason. After checking the position of the moon and stars, she knew to head south/southeast to make her start. She wasn't in good spirits, but she kept a brisk pace, as stealth was not mandatory for the return journey. A few uneventful days passed as she trekked back through the forest, then to the outlines, then finally into the valley and to the village, but as she approached the clearing to the valley, she couldn't hear anything. Nothing. Not a sound. No one talking, rebuilding, moving. No smells, no smoke, no sign of activity at all. They had been struck by a beast many a time in the past and always rebuilt. It was not unknown that this was a risk of life, between that and the few brave bandits who venture this far north, and the Dark Eyes, life has always been tough, but there was always something left, and as long as there was, they were never beaten.
Her pace was quickening now, nearly to the village edge and still, nothing, no roar of fires in hearths, no smell of meals on tables, no comforting sound of people in the square... just abandoned, left empty, her home was nothing but empty huts and burned out buildings. She slowed, frantically looking around for anything, anyone she could recognise, anything to tell her home was still here. She found nothing and the silence made everything seem even more ominous, as the sky darkened in preparation for unleashing a storm. She cried, silently, and dropped to her knees... defeated, broken, and drained, there was nothing left for her here, or anywhere anymore. She screamed into the sky and her anguish flowed through her, crushing her heart like a fierce tsunami, overwhelming every thought and sense with only the feeling of pain and dread. She slumped and let go of every will to fight she had left inside her, her armour felt heavy, her breathing felt laboured and every shred of energy she had left her at the moment, she was done.
"Where is everyone? What happened here after I left to hunt? Surely someone would have stayed? Why would they all leave? My mother... where is my mother? She was alive when I left, she wouldn't just go!" Thoughts raced in her head as she straightened herself and started to stand again, she surveyed the emptiness of her village and started to run towards her old hut. Burned out and destroyed, all that remained were the charred remains of the walls, the beams that held the sides together, and the large roofing beam, also burned black. When she got close enough, she could make out the forms of two bodies on the floor, one was burned and tiny, and the other had been dead no more than a few hours. Her heart sank, her stomach turned, and slowed by the horror of her own thoughts, she moved closer to inspect the body. Rolling it over, her mother's face, grey and lifeless, stared out into the void. She recoiled in a combination of terror and pain, seeing the eyes of the woman that gave her life, having none in them themselves.
"Why? WHY MOTHER?!?!" she screamed at the limp corpse, "YOU WERE ALIVE WHEN I LEFT! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE!?" she sobbed, and quickly looked around for any kind of clue as to what had happened, desperate to understand. Searching through the debris, it soon became obvious what had transpired. The Hemlock vial in the pantry was empty and on the side near the sink. A tincture bottle was missing from the medicine set and the kettle still had the faint smell of the poison flower within. She searched her mother's body and sure enough, found the tincture bottle wrapped in her mother's hand and smelled it. Hemlock. Her mother's other hand grasping her brother's blanket, she had brought fate to her own design, grief-stricken from the loss of her child and unsure of the fate of the other.
"But I'm here mother, I made it back I'm OK" she spluttered through tears as it dawned on her, all at once and much much too completely. She was alone and had no home anymore. "Mother..." She stayed there, laying at her mother's side, crying into her faded yellow linen dress, her mother's presence offered some reprise for the last time and in silence. Before she could know, dusk was upon her and she could see the light of torches burning in the distance, approaching the village.
"Bandits, thieves, scavengers... whoever they are, I can't fight them like this, not now... not anymore." she thought to herself as she huddled into the hut ruins, crouching low behind a ruined wall and tried to stay out of sight and still as possible.
She heard muffled voices and a loud song, "Are they... drunk?" she thought this was likely considering the type of people she assumed them to be. "Good, they shouldn't even notice me if I'm careful." The lights were getting closer and the voices clearer, and soon she could begin to make out two men talking as they entered the village,
"Did you hear what happened here? Some sorta demon they say." a large man at the front said slightly slurring his words, "Covered in fire and quick as lightning it was!"
The second man spoke, "Not many were left after it torched the place, aye, boss!"
"Ok, so the big one's in charge." She thought to herself, as she continued to listen.
"Don't think anyone is still here do ya?" the leader asked.
"Well if they are, we can take'em back to camp. See them fed and watered."
"Aye, a horrible fate for anyone be this here!" the leader kicked a charred body that disintegrated to ash as soon as he did, "Oof... Nasty way to go," he turned and raised his voice, "Right lads, look around for survivors and supplies, lemme know whatcha find."
His men hooted their agreement and began to disperse out into the village. She observed the men carefully and realised they were wearing simple leather armour and were only armed with side swords and short bows. This was not a Warband or a raiding party as she first thought, nor were they unorganized bandits. She kept watching and saw on the leaders pauldron was the symbol of the Lighthand, a recruited militia formed under the guidance of the Lightbringers, powerful auramancers and paladins dedicated to protecting those who cannot in these times of otherworldly war. After thinking briefly that there really was nothing left for her here anymore, she moved quietly to her mother's side once more, leaning over her and lowering her lips to her mother's forehead. Gently kissing her goodbye, she whispered "I love you mother" as she took the small blue-grey blanket from her mother's hand, one corner had been charred and stuffed it into her pack. She took one final, deep breath in her ancestral home, stood up, and stepped out into the light, announcing herself as she did, "Hello!"
"Oh sweet Thanaag you scared the life from me girl!" the leader jumped in surprise, and his second laughed as his superior officer just got scared by a young woman.
"Are you here to help?" she questioned hopefully.
"Aye..." The leader spoke softly, "Were you here, lass... when..." he trailed off, and she nodded.
"You were lucky to survive" chirped the second, "I'm Soren, this meat head," he gestured to the leader, "is Salec, he's my twin brother, and Master-at-arms of our little ragtag group here." She looked them up and down, Soren was clearly a foot shorter and much thinner than his brother, but both bore the carry of a strong and proud warrior. Salec was a hulking brute of a man, broad about the shoulders and chest, arms as thick as some tree trunks, and holding a large Warhammer. Soren, by contrast, was lithe and moved with an eerie fluidity, clearly preferring speed, as he had several dozen blades, daggers, knives, and throwing knives belted, strapped, and tied all about his person.
Salec questioned, "Do you know what happened here, lass?"
She nodded, "It was a Trakken" she fumbled in her pack and pulled out its skin, "but it won't be a problem anymore." she threw the skin over her shoulder and the light from the torches glinted from its opalescent scales.
"And you killed it?" Soren exclaimed with bewilderment, eyes locked on the near-fabled creature's hide.
She again nodded, "I followed it for half a week, tracking it through the forest before I managed to put an arrow, then a blade, through its head" she spoke with venom, and her normally pale features flushed red with rage.
The two men looked at each other, then back to her, "What's your name?" Soren asked.
She looked back at her mother's body, and the charred remains of her brother and her home, and then turned slowly back, keeping her head down, and with a heavy sigh she said, "Kayarona... My name is Kayarona, you can call my Kaya... my... erm... my mother did" She forced a smile, and fought back tears. Soren shouted some commands Kaya didn't quite hear, as her mind swam with grief again, then a soldier appeared with a blanket and wrapped it around Her. She gathered it about her shoulders and sniffed, dried her eyes with the heel of her hand, and cleared her throat, "So, where are we going?" Kaya tried to sound chirpy but couldn't quite manage it.
Salec started, "To Ichthilion, to Capitol of Light, you are more than welcome to join us" he eyed her bow, "And since we know you can kill demons with that thing, you could be a great help to us" he smiled a warm and encouraging smile and she returned a softer smile, one heavy with grief.
Soren asked quietly, "Tell me, lass, did anyone else make it?" Kaya shook her head, "I see... well brother I think we should start back to camp before the night is over, I wanna be back for breakfast."
Salec laughed, "You eat so much yet stay so small brother." he slapped his sibling on the back and crumpled him to the floor as if he were made of paper. Soren chuckled as he rose, "Alright big man, let us get moving, and stop showing off" he laughed as he turned and barked orders to the soldiers and began to walk off.
Salec turned to Kaya, "You going to be ok, I promise lass." he offered his hand and grinned.
Kaya took one last look around everything that was her home and the only life she had known, and said, "I know" looking back to Soren, she smiled her first real smile in the last week and took his hand.