The Hunter's Song

Chapter 1: Stalker (Mourning Crow)

"When the rain falls, death is coming. When the rain falls..." The refrain looped perpetually on my lips. "Let the rain fall, let it fall... Let me fall..."

Was the ritual over? Were they all finally dead?

Everything around me was drenched in blood. Or maybe it was just the leftover acrid scent overwhelming my throat and nose. I couldn't recall a time when the air didn't reek of death.

Had there ever been a before, or was that just another withered dream induced by manic lack of sleep?

"Where are you off to little whelp?" Red Spider's grizzled voice thundered from across the bloody bog.

No, it wasn't over. One still lived and the sky really was raining blood.

I unclamped my hinged sickle and let the adjoining chain slide through the palm of my free hand.

"Come now, little one," the old hunter cackled in the distance, raising his titanium bow up to his pupil-less silver eye. "It's time for one of us to claim their prize."

I closed my eyes and let my innate senses take control. There was danger in letting go, but at this point, there were no more innocent bystanders to worry about. Just two killers and a few seconds before one of them died.

...

"Oy!" A heavy brown boot kicked my shoulder. "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!"

"What...?" I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "Oh, yeah. I'm going." I heaved off the old wooden bench tucked away in the back of the bar.

"You play a good tune there, Bard," the barkeep waddled around the empty tables, bussing up the empty mugs. "Come back tonight, it's the end of the week. Both our purses will be bursting, so long as you keep that hood of yours cinched up tight."

I took a deep bow and then cocked my head up quickly, tossing my speckled leather hood loose off my pale head.

"Gah!" The barkeep winced. "Those ears. If'in you ain't an albino goblin, what in the blasted endless stars are you?"

"I am a Razkur, dear friend," I spread my grin wide letting the pudgy human behold my pale crystal teeth while slinging my guitar's strap over my shoulder.

"Yeesh," he shook his head. "The fates must have an awful sense of humor, pairing a nightmare mug like that with the voice of celestial seraph."

"On my homeworld of Menthla," I splayed my long floppy ears wide and raised their pointed tips proudly towards the ceiling. "I was often told my appearance was quite fetching."

"Well, my alien friend, that was there and this is here. And here, you is one tall pale scrawny freak," the sweaty human guffawed, letting slip a sour quacking fart as his body shuddered. "I mean no disrespect Mr. Mourning Crow. Just speaking honest."

"Miss."

"Huh?"

"My people rarely use gendered honorifics, but since we are, as you say, here," I explained. "I am a Miss, not a Mister."

The human couldn't contain his laughter. "You're a..." He had to put down his tray and wipe away a stream of tears. "A lady! HAHAHAHA! But you're so tall?!"

I crossed my arms, while trying not to openly roll my eyes waiting as I made myself comfortable atop an empty table.

"I stand corrected, Miss," the barkeep had trouble catching his breath. "The fates played no joke on you, you are outright cursed."

I could only smirk. "Well, there's no arguing that."

...

The daylight hours tumbled by as I roamed the quiet hamlet streets. I told myself it was to listen and watch for any clandestine signs, but mostly I was circling to avoid the church.