Eternal Beasts

Altara

Two full moons, each half the size of Earth's Luna, hung in the dark night sky in a staggered formation, twin spheres of silver against a black velvet backdrop, their cold light washing the trees of the Kasidian below in a silvery effervescence, lending an almost otherworldly air to the scene. Nothing stirred, not on the ground or in the trees. Silence pervaded all as Midnight reigned.

Then, shattering the comfortable darkness and silence, a massive stag burst free of the trees to stand in the midst of a small glen, his sides heaving from heavy exertion, his hair matted with sweat. Anxiously the noble head turned this way and that, the ears pricked up to catch any sounds of pursuit. The wet nose twitched as it tested the night's cool air. On his head the stag sported a massive rack, several points darkened with fresh blood.

It was the blood of wolves. They had almost trapped him in a ravine a kilometer or so back with their ambush before he managed to gore two of them and burst through their line, their heavy jaws snapping at his powerful legs on the way by. But he had escaped, albeit barely. And now he was sure they were on his trail! But where? How far back were they?

Never before had the buck faced such a determined pack! The alpha must be blood mad! He took another hesitant step forward, his foreleg cocked up and his whole body trembling with anticipation. Again he scented for the wolves, his ears keen for any sound that they were coming, his big, brown eyes wide and staring off into the darkness. So engrossed was the buck in his vigilance for wolves, that he missed the sound of a hunter's bowstring being drawn back after an arrow was nocked.

The string hummed and the arrow flew straight and true, catching the big buck just behind the foreleg in the upper ribs. The great animal grunted with the impact, feeling the sharp head penetrate his heart. He took half a step, gasping as his strength left him in a rush. Then he was collapsing onto the ground, dead. Almost instantly into the silence that followed the buck's death came the sound of distant howling.

It was the pursuing wolf pack! They had caught the buck's scent and were in hot pursuit. Knowing they were close to their quarry, the wolves would literally fly over the ground, reaching the buck's body in mere moments, ready to feast. Knowing this, a tall shadow-wreathed figure quickly stepped out of the bush and trotted over to the fallen deer. Kneeling beside the still warm body, they inserted a long, wickedly sharp hunting knife into the buck's bellow just between the back legs. With an easy pull, the knife's razor-sharp edge opened the stag from stem to stern, his hot blood rushing out of the gaping wound.

Avoiding the blood, the figure carefully reached into a pouch on its belt, a thick camouflage cloak swirling about it with every movement, its gloved fingers reddened with the stag's blood. Those bloodied fingers drew out a piece of black fur from the pouch. Then, with the slightest of hesitations, it used the sharp knife to cut off all the hair from the skin. It then proceeded to cut the skin into small pieces as well.

Taking both, it scattered them over the stag's body, on the spilt blood, and into the open belly wound. It even pulled the gash in the belly open further to expose the animal's guts before liberally sprinkling hair and skin over them as well. Then, with a glance over its shoulder to make sure the pack hadn't reached the downed stag yet, it cut the arrow out and made for the brush.

It had no sooner concealed itself that several lean, powerful shapes loped easily into the glade, tongues lolling. But they pulled up short at the astonishing sight of their quarry laying dead in the midst of a pool of his own blood, still steaming in the chill air, out in the middle of the glade.

Cautiously two of the more courageous stepped stiff legged up to the body, sniffing hard while the others watched intently. It looked to be two-leggers' work, but they could sense none of their trace. The bigger of the two, a heavy, gray-haired veteran, snorted to clear his nasal passages of any irritants then stepped up to take a careful lap of the pooled blood. Still warm and very tasty. But none of the other wolves moved while they watched the gray for any reaction to licking the blood.