Henri drew the bowstring to its full length, the wood groaning under the strain as his sharp eyes locked onto the monstrous deer. Its head dipped low to the lake, lapping at the water with an unnervingly serpentine tongue. The twisted antlers crowning its head glistened in the pale light, jagged and sharp like spears.
The air was thick, suffocating, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Henri exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing just enough for a steady shot.
Swissssshhhhhhh.
The arrow cut through the air with deadly precision, but just before it struck, the creature's head snapped up. The arrow buried itself deep into its neck instead of its skull. A sickening, wet thunk echoed through the clearing. Thick, black blood poured from the wound, but the creature didn't fall.
The beast twitched violently, its sinewy body convulsing as it staggered back. Then it stilled. Slowly, deliberately, its head tilted toward Henri. Five burning red eyes blinked open—three locked onto Henri's advancing form, while the other two swiveled unnaturally to fixate on Astria, who stood frozen further back. The corners of its mouth began to curl upward, splitting its face into an unnaturally wide grin. Razor-sharp teeth gleamed in its maw, slick with saliva.
Then it laughed.
"HahahHAHAHAhaHaHA!"
The sound was wet and broken, a gurgling, human-like cackle that sent shivers racing down Astria's spine. It echoed through the clearing, bouncing off the trees and seeming to come from everywhere at once. Henri gritted his teeth, his grip on the knife tightening.
"Stay focused!" he shouted, snapping Astria out of his stupor.
Henri didn't wait. Knife in hand, he lunged forward, aiming to deliver a killing blow.
But the creature hissed, a sound so guttural and deep it seemed to rattle the ground itself. Its six limbs bent low, muscles coiling like springs, and with a deafening crack, it launched itself high into the air.
"Astria, move!" Henri roared, but his voice barely registered over the pounding in Astria's ears.
The creature landed with a resounding thud not far from Astria, its glowing eyes narrowing as it fixed him in its sights. Instinct took over, and Astria dove behind a nearby tree just as the beast charged. The ground shook under the weight of its massive body, and splinters flew as its antlers gouged deep into the trunk.
Astria fumbled to nock an arrow, his breath ragged and frantic. He loosed the shot, but his trembling hands betrayed him. The arrow thudded harmlessly against the creature's flank, barely eliciting a reaction.
The beast turned, its head tilting at an unnatural angle as if to mock him. Its eyes burned brighter, the crimson glow casting an eerie malevolent atmosphere across the place.
Henri was already on the move. Another arrow flew from his bow, this one striking the creature's back leg. It howled, a blood-curdling sound that sent shivers down Astria's spine.
But the howl was followed by laughter.
"HaHahahahaHahahahAHAHA!"
That grotesque, human-like cackling filled the air again, rising in pitch as the beast's wounds began to close before their eyes. The arrow that had pierced its neck pushed out with a sickening squelch, the flesh knitting itself back together as if mocking their efforts.
"This deer is really hard to kill!" Astria shouted.
Henri growled under his breath. "Just keep hitting it until it die!"
The beast swung its head around, its antlers slicing cleanly through a nearby sapling. Black ichor dripped from its still-healing wounds, steaming as it hit the ground.
Astria scrambled backward, barely keeping his footing as the creature advanced. Henri charged from the side, slashing at its flank with his knife. The blade bit deep, sending more ichor spraying into the air. The creature screamed again, this time rearing onto its hind legs.
The forest seemed to darken as its antlers stretched toward the sky, casting long, jagged shadows. Henri backed away just in time as the beast slammed down, its hooves cracking the ground.
"Keep moving!" Henri shouted
Astria rolled to the side as the creature lunged again, its spear-like antlers slicing through the air where he'd just been. He nocked another arrow, his heart hammering, and fired. This time, the arrow struck true, embedding itself in one of the creature's five glowing eyes.
The beast screeched, staggering wildly. Black blood streamed from its wounded eye, but the remaining four glowed brighter, burning with an otherworldly intensity.
Henri dashed forward, his knife flashing in the dim light, and drove it deep into the creature's side. The blade sank through muscle and sinew, but the beast's flesh began to knit itself back together almost immediately. It twisted violently, throwing Henri off balance.
The creature's antlers swung around, narrowly missing Henri's head as he ducked low. He retaliated with a brutal slash across its hind leg, forcing the beast to stumble, its legs buckling as its movements slowed.
Henri seized the moment. With a fierce cry, he leapt onto the creature's back, driving his knife into the base of its skull. The blade sank deep, and the beast let out a final, ear-splitting shriek. Its body convulsed violently, throwing Henri to the ground as it collapsed.
But it wasn't dead. Not yet.
Its laughter returned, weaker this time, but still chilling. The wound in its skull began to close, the jagged edges of bone fusing together.
"Really annoying" Henri said.
He grabbed another arrow, his hands steady despite the carnage around him, and drove it directly into the beast's heart.
The creature spasmed, its laughter finally silenced. Its glowing eyes dimmed one by one until only darkness remained.
Henri stood over the corpse, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his knife. Astria sank to his knees, his bow slipping from his hands as the tension drained from his body.
The clearing was silent, save for the ragged breaths of the two hunters. Then Henri turned, his face grim but triumphant.
"You did well," he said, his voice low and steady. But there was an edge to his tone, something Astria couldn't quite place.
The fog began to thicken again, curling around their knees as the two prepared to deal with the corpse.
As they packed up the remains of the hunt, neither Astria nor Henri spared another glance at the creature's headless, broken body. The dark ichor staining the snow steamed faintly in the cold air, an acrid smell hanging heavy around them. The antlers—blackened and sharp as knives—lay bundled with sinew and rope, their strange sheen catching the fading light. Yet neither of them remarked on the creature's grotesque features or the fight that had stretched their endurance.
"That one was a bit harder," Astria said, breaking the silence. His tone was casual, as if discussing a particularly stubborn buck. He tied a knot around a bundle of meat and hoisted it onto his back. "We were lucky to catch it. These deer don't show up often."
Henri grunted in agreement, crouching to retrieve the glowing heart from the snow. The faint crimson light pulsed slowly, like a dying ember. He didn't seem to notice—or care. He tucked it into his leather bag with practiced ease. "Luck's only part of it," he replied. "You've got to be ready when they do."
Astria nodded. It was an unspoken truth that the meat from these hunts lasted longer, tasted richer, and brought warmth to the village in ways normal game never could. "Still," he added, hoisting the antlers they had tied together, "next time, let's try not to let it laugh at us."
Henri chuckled at that, the sound deep and calm.
Astria couldn't help but smirk as he remembered the banter he had with Albert last night. Some deers do laugh, they laugh a lot but don't die from just laughing.
Then, he caught sight of something shifting in the corner of his vision. He turned, and his breath hitched. Crimson flowers began sprouting from the mangled corpse of the deer, their petals unfolding in eerie silence. The blooms were vibrant, impossibly vivid against the dark, bloodied snow, their edges shimmering faintly as if catching an unseen light.
A faint, sweet scent drifted toward him, warm and inviting, cutting through the cold air. The aroma was intoxicating, like a blend of the forest after rain and honeyed fruit, beckoning him closer.
He'd seen this before.
This wasn't the first time crimson flowers had bloomed from a hunt. They always appeared the same way, vibrant and enticing, as if daring anyone to reach out and touch them. The first time it had happened, years ago, he'd been younger—curious, untrained, and foolish. He'd been mesmerized by the flowers, their strange beauty unlike anything he'd ever seen.
But Henri had stopped him.
Despite what Henri said, Astria had seen his grandfather touch the flowers before, and not just once. It wasn't often, but on a few hunts—when the blooms had grown too large, or their glow lingered unnaturally long—Henri had knelt beside them and plucked a single flower. He did so with an unshakable calm, his weathered hands closing around the petals without hesitation, as if the warning he had given Astria didn't apply to him.
The first time he saw his grandfather do it, he'd felt the words bubbling up inside him—Why can you touch them? Why not me?—but the look on Henri's face had silenced him. His grandfather's expression had been unreadable, a strange mix of focus and detachment, as though handling something both delicate and necessary, yet something he loathed.
Astria hadn't understood at the time, Henri's tone had brooked no argument, and the memory of that moment stuck with him. Over the years, he had seen the crimson blooms sprout again and again, always on kills like this—creatures twisted and strange, yet not something unusual to them.
Astria never questioned it.
Each time, the flowers grew quickly, spreading across the corpses like a creeping fire. Their glow, subtle but unmistakable, gave the air around them an almost dreamlike quality. It was tempting, even now. The petals seemed to ripple gently in the breeze, though there was none.
"Don't linger," Henri's voice cut through his thoughts, grounding him.
Astria blinked and turned to see his grandfather watching him with a knowing look. Henri's expression was calm, but his eyes held that same sharpness as before. He gestured toward the flowers with the tip of his knife, the blade catching the faint light.
"They'll wither soon enough," Henri said simply. "Leave them be."
Astria nodded, his grip on the antlers relaxing slightly. He glanced back at the flowers once more, watching as they continued to spread, the corpse of the deer slowly disappearing beneath their vivid blooms. For a moment, the urge to reach out flickered in the back of his mind, unbidden and persistent. But he pushed it down, turning his attention back to the path ahead.
The sweet scent lingered as they walked away, the flowers' glow casting faint shadows across the trees. Astria didn't look back again, even as the aroma clung to his senses, stubborn and alluring.
The clearing around them, stained with dark blood and strewn with shattered tree limbs, seemed to shrink as the fog thickened. Astria glanced once at the carcass, now stripped of anything valuable, before falling into step behind Henri. The quiet crunch of their boots against the snow and the faint rustle of their packs were the only sounds as they began their walk back to the town.
The forest loomed, the shadows between the trees deepening as the last light faded. Here and there, strange shapes moved at the edge of Astria's vision—branches swaying without wind, faint whispers curling just beyond the range of hearing. But he said nothing. This was the way of things.
The two walked in silence for a long while, the routine rhythm of their steps oddly soothing. Finally, Astria broke the quiet. "Do you think we'll see another one soon?"
"Maybe," Henri replied, his tone unchanged. "Maybe not. Best not to dwell on it. The forest gives what it gives. And we take what we need."
Astria nodded, satisfied with the answer. His thoughts strayed briefly to the fight—how the creature had healed itself, how its laughter had rung like a human's, how its eyes had glowed with malice even in death. But these thoughts slid away like water through his fingers, replaced by the familiar satisfaction of a hunt completed.
By the time the village lights came into view, the weight of the encounter had already lessened, fading into the same space as a memory of bad weather or a long day's work. They passed the first cottages, their windows glowing faintly in the mist, and exchanged brief nods with a man carrying firewood. The man's eyes lingered for a moment on the glowing bag Henri carried, but he said nothing, his expression placid.
As they entered the village square, a woman at a market stall waved cheerfully. "Another good hunt, Henri?"
"Good enough," Henri replied, his tone light, as if returning from a routine errand.
Astria hesitated, glancing at the faint glow seeping from Henri's bag, but the woman didn't seem to notice—or care. She turned back to her stall, humming softly.
"Go on home," Henri said, gesturing toward Astria. "I'll take care of this."
Astria nodded, his limbs still heavy with exhaustion. As he walked toward their house, he passed children playing by the well, their laughter ringing high and carefree. He noticed one of them holding something—a bone, jagged and dark, still streaked with blood. But no one else seemed to pay it any mind.
By the time he reached home, the strange details of the day had faded almost completely. Another hunt, another success. That was all.
Henri stayed behind, watching the villagers bustle about their evening routines. His gaze lingered briefly on the glowing heart in his bag before he closed it firmly. The fog thickened around him, shrouding the edges of the square in a gray haze, but no one seemed to notice.
"Just another day," he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the town.