With a broken bow in his hands, desperately trying to walk toward the closest person his bloodshot eyes could see, he managed to scream the words ''MONSTER'' one more time before collapsing near some tree he had clutched onto to catch his breath.
With his bow now laying flat on his feet, being in a delirious state from all the running he probably did, I decided to loom closer toward him.
Not every day do you see a person, and from the looks of it, a hunter running out of the woods, fearing for his life, screaming something about a monster.
Without wasting any time, I ordered Gregar to fetch some water while I had the peasants tell me if they recognized him. There was no way to convince me to walk close to potential danger, especially when I knew almost nothing regarding the barony's enemies and their ploys, without first taking some precautions.
With Nathan by my side and the peasants reassuring me that he was indeed one of the local hunters of our village, Eric, I felt more comfortable getting closer to him, after having Nathan act as a probable meat shield that is.
The first thing I noticed was the broken bow. It wasn't just missing a string but was almost broken in two like it was used to club someone or something with it.
''It appears Eric run into some trouble,'' I said while staring at his green shirt, now red from all the blood covering most of his body. There was a big gash at his right leg, going straight up to his thigh, having turned into ruins whatever was remaining of his pants.
With most of his body now covered with gore and sweat, I removed his upper shirt in search of some wounds that would justify all these crimson liquids on himself.
''This blood can't be his,'' I stated quite frightened, noticing that
'his quiver was also empty. The smell of blood and iron, combined with his awful stench, was beginning to turn my stomach upside down. Battling with myself not to puke in front of all these peasants, I managed to regroup my thoughts.
''Nathan, grab a capable local who is familiar with the woods in front of us and have one of the peasants take care of Eric,'' I stressed before hinting at the trail of blood our hunter had left for us to track.
''I have seen these wounds before,'' Nathan interrupted, signalling me to go to a more secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of the people.
''It's a mutated Tigra, probably two years old,'' he declared, certain it was an elemental beast that did the deed.
''He probably ran into one of these beasts while hunting, somehow stupidly provoked it, and chased him until he reached our village,'' he continued, trying to dissuade me from going after the monster.
''the Tigra must have used a wind claw attack, striking his thigh and causing the huge gash you see. From the looks of it, it must have warned him not to trespass on his territory or something similar, or else our friend here wouldn't even be alive to tell the tale. You can't just escape from an elemental beast, he said while stroking his beard, staring at the blood trail the hunter left with a doubt visible in his eyes.
The hurried footsteps of Gregar snapped me out of my trance as he brought some water along with some makeshift plank to use as a stretcher for Eric.
The moment the fresh cold water came in contact with Eric's ripped lips, he grimaced in pain, trying to shake the plank off his feet before falling again.
With a motion hard to pick with the naked eye, Nathan, like a ghost seen in anime movies I used to watch, appeared next to him, trying to keep him from passing out again.
''What did you see, what happened?'' Nathan gently questioned, trying to steady Eric's head.
Raising his head while in extreme pain from all the running and hits he endured until he reached the village, he pointed at the looming forest.
The crunching limbs of the trees rustled and shook their crackling leaves as Eric, fighting with all his might against the sweet embrace of death, whispered one word before finally surrendering himself to his eternal slumber.
Northmill.