The Hunter

Looking through the scope of his high-powered rifle, he moved not a muscle. His prey, one of the larger beasts he had witnessed since finding himself alone in this strange new land, was covered in a coarse, brown fur. The thing stood upon hind legs, waving four other limbs about, seemingly conducting an invisible (and silent) orchestra. He knew that it hadn’t seen him, it couldn’t possibly have; his training as a sniper had been extensive. He knew how to appear as a stone, or a branch of a tree, blending into whatever terrain he found himself.

Deciding against taking the shot, he waited. The strange, six-limbed creature dropped down and lumbered away into the distance, towards a mountain range. Stealthily, he followed. It had been a strange set of circumstances that had led to his arrival in this place, with its slightly bluish sun that bathed the world in queer shades. He had been in a belltower, sniping enemy soldiers. He spotted the tank, one of the new Tiger models that the blasted Gerrys had come up with, a moment before it had blasted his sniper perch into oblivion.

When he awoke, he was in this place. Wherever this place was. The first thing that he assumed, naturally, was that he was dead. The pain from the tree roots digging into his back belied that assumption. His body’s need to relieve its bowels and bladder led him to think he still lived, as surely there would be no need for such things in the Afterlife.

He attended to the needs of his body. Upon finding that he still had his backpack and supplies with him, he felt almost as relieved as a moment before. His rifle and backup sidearm were still with him, as well as a reasonable amount of ammunition for both weapons. The wind whipped around him as he stood, taking in his surroundings.

The first thing he saw was a kind of rabbit like creature, hairless and green-skinned. It looked edible, and he realised that he hadn’t eaten since the night before the battle in that God-forsaken French village. Taking aim quickly, he ended the creature’s life, then set about quickly building a fire. Not bad, he thought to himself, chewing on the naked green bunny’s flesh. Not quite like chicken but close enough!

After his meal he settled in for the night, resolving to find some semblance of civilisation in the morning. He dreamed of home, of his girl, as he had done every night since leaving to go to war. Surely this Hitler chap had needed to be stopped, and he sincerely hoped that he would be, but when he awoke to a bluish sun rising over the horizon, he realised that he would likely be sitting out the rest of the war.

He heated up what remained of his dinner, covered the fire pit that he had dug the previous evening, and took stock of his situation. North of his position was a large mountain range, to the south endless plains. East and west both seemed equally barren. In the end, he simply shrugged and headed towards the mountains.

He spotted a herd of bizarre antelope looking creatures as he walked, though they seemed only to possess hind legs, upon which they bounded much more rapidly than anything he had seen before. Taking a sip of water from his nearly empty canteen, he decided that he needed to find a source of water before the day was out.

Trudging along for several hours, he came across a thorny bush. Examining it more closely in the hopes that it might be a sort of cactoid, he discovered an abundance of berries secreted within the spines. Reaching carefully inside, he was able to grab a small handful before the spikes slammed shut with impressive force, like a set of shark jaws around the air where his hand had been a scant instant ago.

Then, amazingly, the bush uprooted itself and ran off to the east, kicking up a massive cloud of dust as it did so. Stunned, he stared at the departing bush in wonder. Where on Earth am I? he mused. Then he looked at the handful of berries he had acquired, they seemed even more appetising than before.

Carefully, knowing that they might be poisonous, he gently bit into one. The juice that squirted onto his tongue was similar to that of a raspberry, sweet and slightly tart. Popping the rest of that berry into his mouth, he waited a few minutes to see if there were any deleterious effects. All that he noticed was more energy, so he popped another into his mouth and wrapped the rest in a handkerchief, carefully putting them in his backpack before moving on.

It was not long before he came across the large, six-limbed creature with coarse, brown fur. Dropping to his stomach, he carefully, slowly inched his Lee-Enfield rifle into his grasp, sighting down the scope. It had clearly not noticed him, but something disturbed it as it grazed on a patch of dark purple grass. A procession of ant-like things crawled over his hand as he watched and waited.

The beast began its conducting for a moment, then began loping off to the north with an odd, lumbering gait. A moment later, he followed. They were travelling in the same direction, after all, and he would likely catch up to it in time. Not that it worried him particularly, as it was too large a creature to be practical for his needs; he would end up wasting most of it. Best stick to the rabbit things, or maybe find another berry bush. Now that he knew about them, he’d stick the butt of his rifle in the thing’s mouth and prevent the jaws from closing around his hand as he harvested the entire bunch.

Traversing the strange, surreal landscape, he came in short order upon a small settlement. The people there were taller than he was used to, a good head and shoulders above his own. Covered in a soft, purple down, their eyes glowed green with a fierce light under the shadows of the ever-present hoods that all wore.

One of the people came up to him, jabbering in an alien tongue. “I’m sorry,” he told it. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying. If you’re saying words at all…” Turning away, he failed to notice the four arms sneaking out of the local’s robe to grasp him firmly, forcing his head to the side. Roughly, the local forced a gnarled digit inside his ear, wiggling it around and causing no small discomfort. After a moment, the local let him go.

“Can you understand me now?” The local sounded unimpressed. “Fucking newcomers always think they’re better than us. Can’t understand our language, so they start TALKING... SLOWLY... AND... LOUDLY... AT... US... BECAUSE... WE’RE... CLEARLY... STUPID. Figured I’d set you right before you made an even bigger arse out of yourself.”

“Christ! That hurt,” A thin trickle of blood leaked out of his ear, he examined some of it on the tip of his finger. “Still, thank you! I appreciate the thought.” He unwrapped the berries, handing half to the local. They disappeared into its cavernous mouth in no time at all, the local rumbling in pleasure.

“Thank you, sir.” The local’s attitude seemed to change completely. “At least you’ve figured out the Trapberry’s wily ways. Are you, by some chance, a hunter?”

“I suppose you could say that, yes.” He told his new friend. “As you’ve already observed, I’m new here. Could you lend me a hand?” The local glanced at the graspers on the ends of his own limbs, flexing the four digits on each individually. “Sorry, not like that. I’m just after a pub… a tavern, or inn?” The local shook his hooded head at the unfamiliar words.

“There is a Sleephut nearby, you can rest through the Dark in that. It is always free and available for use, though you may need to share.” The local paused, thinking. “If you can help with providing food for the village, perhaps we can build you a hut of your own. It depends on how long you plan on staying.”

“Is there any way that I might get back to where I was before this place?” The look on the local’s face was one of bemusement. He waved a limb at the gate of the village, beyond which night was encroaching. “Not out there, no; I meant before I came to this… oh forget it. Where is this Sleephut?”

Following his guide through the growing shadows, he was shown to a large round building, smoke rising from a hole in the centre of the roof. Entering, he found it sparsely populated; three people of the same species as his local guide and, surprisingly, another human. A blonde woman, shivering with fever and covered in a thick sweat.

His guide grabbed his arm, leading him well away from the woman and the local tending to her.

“This will be your own fate, soon enough. Newcomers must go through the sickness and become well again. That newcomer will be fine in a cycle or two and may choose to stay and help you through your own.”

He didn’t particularly want to come down sick with anything, particularly not if it looked as horrible as that poor girl across the central bonfire had. He could hear her whimpering as she thrashed. His guide bade him farewell, saying that he would see him again in the Newcycle.