That Which We Live For

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A grizzled man sat on the porch of a rundown home, staring absently into his palm. The leathers he wore were dirty and torn, held together by the meagerest of repairs, and the skin on his hands and face were equally cracked and caked with mud. His beard was long and unkempt, with broad shocks of grey throughout. Tired eyes stared out of deep sockets, sparing attention for only that which he held in front of him; a silver, heart-shaped locket, immaculately polished so that it glinted in the setting sun, reflecting its shape back onto his weathered face.

The home he sat in front of was not his. He was not sure who it belonged to, though he was sure that it didn't matter. People had not lived in neighborhoods such as these in almost five years, not since it had become dangerous to live outside of the city. Food and water were scarce if you didn't know where to look and the people who did choose to live in the wilds were not the kind who believed in brotherly love. As for the grizzled man, the wilderness suited him just fine. He was a hunter by trade and wild game was more plentiful than ever before. The rivers and springs around were clean enough, despite the opinion of those controlling those few cities. Certainly, none were toxic enough to make you ill as they claimed. Most weren't, anyway. As for the dangers of other people, well, the grizzled man was prepared for it. He had a certain reputation, and if that failed to convince people to give him a wide berth, one look at his grim, hard face usually did.

He was on a hunt now, in fact, though his quarry had given him the slip for the time being. He lost the trail just before sundown and there was not enough daylight left to keep searching. The grizzled man was unconcerned though; he would pick up the trail again soon enough. it was only a matter of time. All he needed was some rest and time to calm his mind. He held the locket gingerly as if cradling a newborn chick. The sound of the locket's small clock brought peace to him over the years, helping center him when he needed to still his mind. Caressing one side of the open face absently with his thumb while watching the seconds tick by, he let his thoughts wander from his plans come sunrise to the sweet thoughts of home and back again, drifting to sleep with the quickly fading sunlight.

Suddenly a noise to his right broke his trance. He was instantly alert and, with a practiced deftness, closed the locket while reaching for the sidearm he kept on his hip. Another rustle in the bushes saw him draw, springing off the porch to keep the source of the noise in his view. It was almost dark, but enough light remained that he could hit his mark if he needed. The grizzled man sat still as stone, barely breathing. The rustling had not been loud, but he hadn't survived this long by being complacent. Hearing nothing further, he inched forward. If his luck was in, it would be nothing more than a small animal, and he could nab himself something for breakfast. He was around the corner of the house, almost to where he figured the noise came from, when the creak of wood warned him of another presence, albeit too late. The grizzled man whirled around, barely in time to catch a glimpse of someone silhouetted against the setting sun, before something blunt and heavy crashed into his head, bringing darkness and silence.

The grizzled man awoke with a start, light filling his eyes as they snapped open. Blinded, he clenched them shut again, trying to regain use of his other senses. The throbbing in his head kept him from thinking straight, but he worked by instinct, straining to hear, feel, and even smell what was around him. Smoke from a fire was first, the crackling of logs falling in place with the heat on his face. His hands and feet were bound but he could feel that the ground was damp from dew. He cracked his eyes open, letting them adjust to the firelight. He was laying on his side, facing a neat campfire, with someone on the other side watching him intently. It was hard to make out his face right away, but once his eyes adjusted, the grizzled man felt anger spring up in him. It wasn't the first time he had been bested by his prey, but for this particular quarry to do so caused the grizzled man to feel a shame he had not felt in many years.

"Well now. Good morning." The man sitting across the campfire said, with a voice hoarse and gravelly. He sat with his back resting on the same porch the hunter had been earlier, the hunter's rifle across his lap and sidearm at his feet. He was not a young man, but he held the face of one, and many a person had fallen for its false innocence. He was immaculately dressed, wearing a dark coat over shirt and vest, with pants that seemed ironed to an impossible crispness. The man's hair was freshly slicked back, and his face clean-shaven.

"I was hoping we could have a chat, but I was afraid I hit you a bit too hard. I'm so very glad to see that is not the case." His voice might have been rough, but it held a mirthful friendliness that was hard to hate. Still, the grizzled man only glared back, cold fury in his eyes blazing almost as brightly as the fire.

"No need to look at me like that now, friend. I honestly don't mean you any more harm than is necessary and right now, how much harm that is relies solely on you." The grizzled man made a low, annoyed growl deep in his throat, but the friendly man drawled on, unabated. "See, I've been racking this brain of mine, trying to figure out why the Great Manhunter himself was pursuing little ol' me. Anybody would wonder the same, right? What could I have done to rouse such ire? Surely a man of my standing could be approached amicably by any I may have wronged before needing to resort to such a drastic measure. So, I did myself a little digging, and can you guess what I found?" The friendly man reached inside his coat pocket and produced a small, silver, heart-shaped locket and let it dangle on its chain, twinkling in the firelight.

The grizzled hunter strained at his bonds upon seeing the locket, wordlessly voicing his rage around the gag in his mouth. The friendly man pointedly ignored the hunter's outburst.

"What a peculiar keepsake to find in these times. And in such condition! You must have gone to great lengths to keep this here pendant as well as you have. Oh, but the best part," the friendly man paused for emphasis, "is what's inside!" The friendly man clicked the locket open and gave the inside a familiar grin. "This is her, isn't it?" He asked, turning the locket around and pointing at the picture kept inside. The grizzled hunter froze, sparing but a glance at the woman's face in the locket before fixing his gaze back at the friendly man.

"I'll take the venomous looks as affirmation, then." The friendly man said sardonically. "You know, I had almost forgotten what she looked like. They say you never forget your first, but after so many others like her I'm not so sure." The friendly man paused, looking at the young woman's silver-framed face for a moment. He appeared to be weighing something in his mind. "Tell you what, my friend." He said finally, slapping his knee as he made to stand. "It's clear to me that, in this situation, you are the wronged party, and I would be remiss to kill you and tip the scales further in that direction. So, listen carefully. I'm going to give this back to you," the friendly man tossed the locket to the hunter so that it landed between him and the fire, "and take my leave." The man's voice dropped low, full of menace. "Be careful, now, not to mistake my mercy for weakness." The friendly man picked up the hunter's rifle strode over to him, bending over to get as close to the hunter's face as he safely could. "If you choose to continue to pursue me over a petty motivation such as revenge," he made the word sound as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, "I will personally see to it that you die in a way that makes what happened to your girl seem a kindness. Certainly, even with the world as it is, there are more important things that a man can live for." With that, he brought the butt of the down on the hunter's face.

The grizzled hunter awoke some hours later, the sun already high in the sky. His bonds had been cut and his belongings neatly stacked, save for his weapons, which were missing altogether. He pushed himself to his knees and immediately snatched up his locket, inspecting it for damage. Relieved to find none, he moved to sit on the porch of the run-down home, absently caressing the picture of the daughter he missed so dearly. Taking a deep breath, he watched the second hand make its journey around the locket's face, planning on how he would pick up his quarry's trail. It was only a matter of time.

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