Hellwalkers

In Deep Shit

Blitzo let the broken trap fall to the floor with a loud groan. "Fuck, not again!" 

The Imp kicked a nearby rock towards the rest of the sprung or otherwise unusable traps he'd placed along the forest floor. He just couldn't wrap his finger around it. Nighttime is supposedly the best time of the day to hunt the nocturnal hellbeasts, but so far he's seen no trace of any. And yet, all of his traps had been sprung!

If the hellbeasts aren't around, what—or who—is sabotaging the traps?

Perhaps it's Travers. Yeah, it must be him! He knew Blitzo could potentially become a better hunter than him, so he makes sure that he(Blitzo) would never be accepted into the Hunter's guild.

"That stupid, show-off dickhead son of a bitch with his beautifully majestic horse! Just you wait, Travers Avarro! One day, you'll be sucking on my— oh shit!"

He didn't see where he was going and his foot got caught in a tree, sending him rolling down a small hill. Blitzo cursed under his breath and got back to his feet in-between growls of pain. 

Then he spotted something inside an opening on the tree a few feet away. As Blitzo got closer, his eyes went wide open.

It was an impling, about nine years old, tucked inside the tree. 

Blitzo looked around, but there were no adults in sight. "Hello? Anyone there? You left your kid behind!"

Blitzo turned the impling over by the shoulder. He was asleep, or so it seemed at first glance. His breathing was rapid and shallow.

Just who the fuck would leave an impling alone in the forest in such a vulnerable state? Didn't they know hellbeasts patrolled the area? Leaving a child out here by himself would have been wishing death upon him. 

...What if that's the intention?

Blitzo felt sick to his stomach. It's not uncommon for Wrath Imps to abandon their weaker offspring to fend for themselves so have one mouth less to feed in times of famine or just so they'd 'man up.

The most worrying thing was that, no matter how hard Blitzo shook him, the impling wouldn't wake up. He wasn't wounded, but he was definitely in some kind of trouble. 

Against his better judgment, Blitzo decided to bring the impling back to town. Who knows? Maybe his parents were looking for him?

He was hanging the boy's limp body over his shoulder when he heard a series of growls behind him. 

Blitzo slipped out his pistol with a big grin. "Christ on a stick, I guess there is a god up there!"

The hellbeast—a cub judging by its small size—charged at Blitzo, teeth bared. 

PAM!

The growls became shrieks of pain as Blitzo pulled the trigger and the bullet pierced through the hellbeast's shoulder. It wasn't a blessed gun, so it wouldn't kill it, but it'd be enough to scare it off. Indeed, the hellbeasts disappeared into the darkness with cries of pain. 

"Ha! That's it, you better run, you little pussy beast!"

He felt something scurrying down his back. Blitzo shifted the impling into his arms and saw a bleeding wound on his shoulder. That's odd, that wasn't there before.

Or he just didn't see it because of the boy's furry jacket, Yeah, that must be it. For the time being, though, Blitzo pressed a napkin into the wound to stop the bleeding.