Hunted

Chapter 1: Chased

Kaspar tightened his gloves, settling his back against the trunk of a large oak. His senses picked out his pursuers as he took a moment to reorient himself.

Aside from the fact that he was rather enjoying the chase, they were good at tracking. His lips twitched in suppressed amusement as one of them cried off on a false trail he laid less than ten paces away. He chuckled quietly as the Hunter's companions converged and followed him.

"A fool's errand, isn't it?"

Kaspar smiled in the darkness. The dark violet gaze immediately located the speaker. Of course, there was always one who didn't follow the pack.

He took a moment to regret his lack of a hood. His silver-blonde hair did stand out, after all. "Not all of you are fools, I see," he replied, his eyes training upon the speaker.

The Hunter's white cloak shimmered in the weak moonlight, his blade drawn and held at a defensive level.

"Not fools, no. Perhaps they are overeager. We are all sworn to rid the world of the scourge of your evil."

Kaspar grinned. He was a young one, he could see. Wisps of his auburn hair fell around his face. The rest was pulled back into a tail and lay in the cradle of his thrown-back hood, but his clear gray eyes pierced the gloom between them with a cool intent that Kaspar could not help but admire.

"You are so certain of evil?"

"I know you for the Darkling you are. And you know me as the instrument of your deliverance."

The young Hunter advanced a pace, holding his blade with an ease that spoke of skill and experience. Kaspar held his ground, knowing he could move faster than any human eye could follow. He was intrigued by this one.

"You must understand. I didn't ask to be what I am. It was forced upon me, and I have lived with it as I can. We can all of us only play the hand dealt us, no?" The young Hunter's brow creased for a moment, and Kaspar smiled at him. "You see. Your people have taught you to seek my kind and kill us. Have they bothered to truly tell you the why of it?"

"You are a mockery of God's will," the Hunter intoned. "You are evil given form and must be purged for the good of mankind."

"Their words, not yours," Kaspar replied quietly. "Why do you hunt my kind?"

The Hunter stood silent, and Kaspar could see the wheels of his mind racing, yet he held his pose, blade at the ready.

Kaspar shifted away from the oak, moving toward the young man. "You don't have that answer, do you? It is not presented to you. You believe all they teach you, yet how is it you know them to be teaching you the truth, as it is. Perhaps it is truth as they would have you know it."

The Hunter held Kaspar's eyes. "There is only One Truth."

"No, my dear Hunter," Kaspar answered, his voice laced with silk. "Each of us, Hunter, hunted, peasant, or King, must seek our Own Truth."

"Your existence is an offense to God," the Hunter pronounced, holding on to his tenets.

"And when were you privileged to converse with God," Kaspar challenged," to know this to be so?"

There was no reply, as the Hunter sought the words he needed. Kaspar reached out and ran a finger down his cheek. He started, and danced back, raising his blade to strike. But when the razor edge fell, it cut only air. Kaspar paused several paces away, watching the young Hunter turn this way and that, seeking. With a smile he fled the area, knowing this night's Hunt was over.

***

"Gabriel! Gabriel, are you there?"

"I am," he answered. He sighed, sheathing his blade in the sheath slung low at his hip. He paced to the oak before him, searching for any small clues. He traced the almost unreadable steps of the Darkling as he advanced. He was settled on one knee peering beyond when his Brothers found him.