Two Night Hunters

The winter had been long.

The first snows had come earlier than ever. The hunter had not been prepared. The fall was a time of preparations, and while they had not been neglectful in their practices for the coming snows when they came so soon, there was little to be done except to hope that the goddesses would be merciful. Then again, what did those mighty entities care for one lone hunter in all the world?

The night before last, it had snowed. From before the time the sun had set behind the pillars of trees that surrounded their cabin until late the next day. Luck was not on their side either, for the storm had passed and taken the clouds with them. Leaving the world below to suffer in the freeze that followed. Loath as they were to leave the safety of their cabin, and the heat of their hearth. They had eaten the last of their meat two days ago, and while they could survive on bread and dried fruit for the next little while. They had passed mid-winter nearly a month ago and if the season intended to continue for much longer that would only get them so far. Hunting was not a pleasure; it was a necessity.

While the first of the three moons rose into the firmament they put on their warmest furs, grabbed their old bow - it had been their grandfathers - stepped between the string and the well-worn stave, and stretched the sting into place in the groves on the ends of the stave. They pulled gently on the string with the tips of their middle three fingers. The resistance felt right in the now calloused pads of their fingertips. They had not heard the wind since the sky had opened up, but even so, they grabbed a downy feather and attached it to the top of the bow so that it would not interfere with the bowstring, with a short piece of hemp string. The hunter grabbed their quiver and just five of their handmade arrows before leaving the cabin and entering the small clearing that they had long called home.

They coughed as the frigid air filled their lungs. They smiled slightly despite the discomfort. There was something wonderful about the way a breath of winter air could make one feel alive in a way that was wholly unique to the season.

The night was bright. The first moon was full and sharing her brilliance with the world. In return, the newly snow-covered world reflected it back up at her as if in thanks. Not one who had ever given too much thanks to the goddesses of the world, the hunter gave a silent thank you to the moon. Tonight, they would gladly accept any help they could get.

The hunter started out. Moving as silently as possible on the frozen surface of the snow. It crunched satisfyingly, and they smiled. The noise would be of no help, so as they moved, they worked on stepping lightly. They were no more than a few hundred feet into the forest when they were effectively silent. The forest was in stark contrast tonight. Everyone always thought of the forest as being quiet at night. That as any individual skilled in woodcraft knew was a city-liver’s myth. The world was always awake. Something somewhere was always moving about.

Tonight, as they walked, they heard the sound of a far-off nightjar making its laughter like call echo through the forest. The hunter stopped for a moment, looking through the branches of the canopy above. Even in the bright night of the full moon, they struggled to make out any of the details above, but they hoped that the night hunters were watching from above. Religion and superstition were two different things, and while the former rarely applied to one who lived on the fringes of society the latter had come to mean a great deal. Those silently winged hunters of the night were said to bless the two-footed kind every now and again. Thus far in their, life this two-footed hunter had never been so lucky. They could use a bit of the forest's favor now though.

They continued moving on their silent feet towards a small spring that in the move vivacious seasons called many animals to it with its’ life-giving waters. Despite the cold, they imagined that even now some creature or another might be there looking for a drink. It would not be unheard of. Humans were not the only things to try desperate, reckless things in the dead of winter. It also had the added benefit of being less than half-an-hours trudge through the snow from their cabin.

The movement helped to keep the hunter warm. Their undergarments, winter clothes and even their bulky winters coat could only do so much to keep the cold from biting at them. Their breath quickly became a fog around their head as they moved through the forest. It made the details of the dark forest in the brilliant night harder to see. So, they grabbed the collar of their shirt and pulled it around their face hoping to mask some of the air leaving their body. It only helped for a moment before the moisture from their breath started to freeze the thick shirt to their lips.

They bit off a silent curse as they pulled the shirt from their lips. A moment later they added another silent curse to the sounds of the night as they smelled the all too familiar scent of iron from what had to have been rip on their lips. They sent more silent curses to the goddesses as they continued to the spring. Truly they did not care for one lone hunter who needed something to eat, in order to survive the winter.

Ahead, no more than twenty or so paces a pair of white foxes darted from behind a tree. One chasing the other. Their laughter echoed through the cold night air as the pair moved further away. Again, the hunter smiled, with their bow on their back, and all their arrows in the quiver they had been unprepared for the two little things. They would have made for a nice small reward for a night hunt, but they couldn’t be mad. Lovers should be left in peace, no matter the species.

Carefully the hunter slid the bow from their back and over their head. Then as quietly as possible they pulled an arrow from the quiver and set it above their hand on the bow. Holding the end lightly against the string.

They continued their march.

A half hour was not a long time, but it was long enough to feel like a small eternity had passed when the hunter finally arrived at the small spring. It was not much to look at honestly. In fact, if they hadn’t known that it was there they might have walked by in the night completely unaware that water ran from less than fifteen paces from them. Even so, the hunter found a nice vantage point, leaned back against a tall coniferous tree, and settled in.

There are two kinds of hunters. The first were the chasers. These will find their prey and then give chase, until either they or their prey grew too tired to continue the chase. The second were the watchers. The hunter tonight would belong to this group. Find a spot where your prey was likely to come to and wait. This practice often did not pay off as often as they hoped but there would be no running through the snow to catch anything tonight.

The hunter took long slow breaths as they waited. Not only to keep themselves calm, but to help to stop their body from shivering in the cold. There was not much to do as they waited but focus on each deep breath and listen for the sound of any approaching thing.

It did not take long for their mind to begin to wander. They thought of the last day of the fall before the snows had fallen. The forest had been gilded by the ghostly aspens that made up most of the forest they called home. It had been a warm day for the season, and they had imagined that they would have a good three weeks before the first snows. So instead of chopping wood, or going on their final hunt of the season, they had ventured to a small lake that was fed by the spring. In any season but winter, the trip was short enough that it took less than a day to get there and back. So, they had set off, taking a small picnic with them. Little more than a loaf of bread and some cheese they had traded a few badger skins for earlier in the season.

No one had been around, and as anyone might, before enjoying the meal they had stripped and gone for a swim. The water had been cool, but not cold and the swim was as close to a bath as they had had in a few weeks. They took their time, enjoying the moment they had found themselves in. Then without knowing why they had felt as if they were being watched. It did not take long for the keen-eyed hunter to find the eyes that had fallen on them.

One of the villagers from the town they often traded in. A young woman with hair like the earth and skin the color of pine bark. Despite themselves, they had invited the villager to join them. That had turned the day from great to memorable.

A flash of golden brown drew the hunter from their reverie. The thing had flown just above their head. Close enough that had they had the reflexes they might have reached out and touched the bird in flight. It took just a second for the hunter to spot the bird on a nearby tree branch. The owl sat there with its’s wings tucked close to its body. The heart-shaped ring around its face made its two big eyes stand out as they reflected light back out into the world in a haunting shade of green. The hunter watched it for what could have been a minute or more before the bird looked right back at them. It tilted its’ head to the side as if waiting to pose a question to the hunter.

Without warning the bird let out an ear-splitting screech. Not once taking its’ golden and green eyes off the hunter.

‘What do you want?’ the hunter asked of the owl in their thoughts. Then immediately their attention was drawn to the left where a lone bull elk entered their field of vision. The cold air puffed around its nostrils as it breathed quietly.

The hunter had to take a long deep breath to stop from shaking, although from nerves or the cold they could not tell. There were plenty of elk in the forest, but they moved like ghosts through the forest hardly ever breaking a twig on the ground with their hooves or scraping their antlers on a passing tree unless they intended to. They had only ever seen them across a vale, or from a hundred paces away or more. To be so close to one now was awe-inspiring.

It was a true king of the forest. With antlers that added some three feet to the things already incredible height. The dark brown of its fur on its head and neck was like a thick mane, and the soft brown of the rest of its body was very nearly the same as the wings of the barn owl that stood watching the scene with inscrutable eyes.

The hunter turned slightly. Doing their dead-level best to not make a sound as they adjusted their upper body to take aim at this ruler of the forest. They looked to the down feather hanging from the top of their bow. It hung motionless. Then in a practiced motion, they lifted their left arm and aimed the fine metal point of the arrow at the elk.

The barn owl screeched again. Drawing both the hunter and the elk's attention. The two animals stood looking at one another and the hunter sighed softly. They had not been so jumpy in ages. Turning their attention back to the elk, they gripped the bowstring with the same three fingers they had used to test it earlier. Two fingers below the arrow shaft and one above.

Another deep breath and the hunter pulled on the bowstring drawing it to their face. They pulled until their thumb rested on the side of their face right in front of their ear. Took a heartbeat to aim the arrow and released the string.

It happened too quickly for the eye to see. In one second the arrow was in their hand. The next the elk leaped forward and turned to look wildly around it. The hunter sat motionless. Unable to see their arrow they did not want to move and scare the poor thing. Then without preamble, the elk knelt on its front legs and then sat on the white snow. It continued to look around for a moment then laid its adorned head on the ground.

The hunter looked to the barn owl, which was already focused once more on its’ flightless sibling, its head still cocked to one side in that silent question. The hunter bowed their head in silent thanks, and the owl took to the skies. They hunter watched as it vanished into the night. While the hunter moved to go about the next part of their task, they could not help but to think that maybe the goddesses did care for one hunter after all.