Memories of the Reaper

Chapter Twenty-Three

Derek Grey had been tracking the ashlin for three hours, staying downwind as he crept through the forest undergrowth. He paused when he saw the creature, standing over the corpse of a small bunny, its mouth slick with crimson. Its body was the color of dark smoke, masculine and beefy, with sharp teeth and even crueler antlers.

Derek felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned as Victor nodded to him. Good work.

The fledgling let out a slow breath. This was the first time he had tracked a creature on his own successfully. Derek knew that the victory had saved him from a lengthy speech about precision, accuracy, and decision-making—not to mention the physical beating he would have taken had he lost track of another animal.

Derek slid a throwing knife from his sleeve into his hand.

The reaper raised an eyebrow. Are you ready? the reaper asked without speaking.

Derek nodded. He descended from the top of the hillside like a ghostly shade, masking his approach with silence. The fledgling never took an eye off of the creature until he was within twenty feet. He stopped and hid behind a thick ash tree. He breathed in and back out, closing his eyes to track the animal with his ears and nose.

Derek steeled his nerves. He had been given a chance before to kill and had missed both times. The fledgling would not miss again. The fledgling grabbed his knife by the hilt and readjusted his grip as he calculated the distance. He rushed from cover and threw the knife, watching as the blade arced through the air toward its intended target—the throw was too high. Instead of embedding itself in the neck, the dagger passed through its antler, cutting it in half.

"Shit!" the fledgling growled as he rushed forward, drawing another blade as the ashlin darted through the trees. Thunk! Thunk! The next two knives slammed into the trunks of trees, but the third caught its front leg as it charged over the hill. It baled as it fell to the ground, slamming against a tree and breaking a leg.

Derek chased it over the hill, hesitating as it kicked frantically, trying to escape on two of its four legs. The fledgling felt a wave of pity course through his body as he approached it, putting his hands on its side as he tried to calm the creature down. "Shhhhhh. Hey, it's okay. You're going to be okay," he lied, trying to make the words sound as smooth as possible. The ashlin's eyes darted frantically, and it lashed out at him, trying to catch his flesh in its teeth. Derek pulled out another dagger, pushing it deep into the beast's throat and pulling across to the other side, severing the trachea and the esophagus as blood spouted from the wound. Derek could tell how its heart beat by the way the blood flowed: quick at first before slowing and finally stopping. The ashlin shuddered, its body seizing in the throes of death before falling still.

The fledgling blinked. You can eat as much meat as you want, but until you kill the animal yourself, you can't appreciate the sacrifice, he thought, recalling Hazel's words. "I... I'm sorry," he whispered as he felt the life leave the beast.

Victor approached him, holding out three blades and an antler. The fledgling took them without a word, still staring at the ashlin's empty eyes. "I-I killed it."

"Killing's not easy, is it?" the reaper asked, kneeling beside him as he wrapped the creatures front and back legs together with rope.

"No," Derek whispered. "That's the first time I've killed something before."

"Not as glorious as you expected it to be?"

Derek shook his head.

"Good." Victor smiled, approving of his feelings. "Life is a cycle of death, fledgling. Things must die so others can live. If we didn't eat, we would die, so we must be thankful and appreciative of this creature's sacrifice. Though we must kill, reapers are protectors—we perform our duty so that others don't have to. That is how it has always been and will always be." Victor slapped him too hard on the back. "Regardless of how you feel, you did well, fledgling."