Hunting was in Connor's blood.
He had learnt the art of hunting from his father. It had always been easy for him to know exactly how tense the string of the bow had to be or just how much poison to cover the arrowheads with. The beasts never stood a chance when Connor and his father roamed the fields searching for them.
He truly never knew how or why, but he had always been able to tell the exact spot where one of the beasts was going to be. He would feel it in a corner of his mind, and thanks to that he had led his father to a clearing in the middle of the Northern Woods.
"There, by the pond," Connor said, stopping in his tracks to point at where he knew the beasts would appear. His father nodded and adjusted his grip on the bow, as he started walking as stealthily as he could. Connor followed him stepping on the same spots his father had and sniffed the air. His father had taught him how to decipher the secret messages the air had, and for a brief second, he closed his eyes. The beasts were close; he could smell the musk of their fur and fresh blood that wasn't theirs. He sniffed again and he could tell that the victim had been a doe. Filthy beasts, he thought and came to a halt when his father lifted his fist.
There they were. A new pack. Their bodies were covered in white fur and the moonlight silently bathed them. They must have known that Connor and this father were there because one of them was patrolling the area back and forth. His father tensed his bow, aiming it directly at that beast. Connor watched him do it and noticed the grin on his father's lips. He lived for the hunt. He readied himself for the tell-tale whistling sound of the arrow, but it never came.
He looked at his father and noticed that his hand was trembling. He lowered his bow and muttered a word that Connor recognised as a name. Not just any name. A name that he had heard countless times as his father would tell him stories of his Mum.
"Bianca..." his father said, his whole body trembling like a leaf. When Connor followed the direction of his gaze, he felt his blood freezing in his veins. Where the patrolling beast had stood, now a beautiful woman was standing and looking directly at them. Her long blonde hair covered her torso and she was completely still. The rest of the pack was as still as she was, but none of them had shifted to their "human" form. None of them were ready to attack. They were just either looking at the woman or at Connor, their haunches on the ground, their ears lowered.
"That's Mum's name," Connor whispered and his father nodded slowly. "But she...she is dead. That's what you told me!" his voice got a little higher, causing some members of the pack to lift their ears. His father looked at him for a few seconds that felt impossibly long and nodded again.
"Her pack was going to flee the kingdom...that's what she told me...you were just a baby when she left you at my door..." his father muttered and started trembling, "I...am sorry Connor," his voice broke and he fell to his knees, covering his face as he sobbed uncontrollably.
Connor felt his entire world breaking in half. He had hunted those beasts for as long as he could remember. He had rejoiced when his arrows pierced them. Killed them. He had learnt to skin them long before he even knew how to read. He was wearing a piece of white fur on his shoulders right now.
He gripped his bow tightly and stared at the woman. Her arms were open and she was smiling. The members of the pack were wagging their tails. Connor placed a hand on his father's shoulders and smiled.
Hunting was in Connor's blood.
His heart was now beating steadily as he shot a single arrow at his mother's chest. She was a beast. And so was he. He heard his father screaming and the surprised growls from the pack, but he was faster. He uncorked the small vial with poison and took it to his lips. Without a second thought, he drank it dry.
He was a hunter. And he would kill every beast he saw.
Including himself.
