Legacies || Hermitcraft

Chapter XXI - The Hunter and the Hunted

Timeline: December 2010 - February 2017

Word Count: 4.2k

TW: Mild blood/violence

Every family has its quirks, which goes without saying, but some are still arguably stranger than others. The Hermits were quite a good example of this, displaying very clearly how a mangled mess of different people with different personalities wasn't actually half as dysfunctional as it sounded. They were accepting, understanding and accommodating of each others' differences in spite of the many ways they clashed and frequently caused inconveniences, which was something not many other families were able to do.

It certainly was a skill far beyond the comprehension of one such family, a clan of hunters who resided on the outskirts of a dangerous tundra forest. In their eyes, a person's worth was decided only by their ability to kill and nothing else, and they took very unkindly to those who couldn't meet their standards. Little patience was shown to anyone who attempted to deviate from their long running traditions of hunting and blood-sportsmanship, whether it was by their choice or not, and one such example of this was Iskall.

Technically speaking, it wasn't Iskall's fault that they were considered unsuitable to be a hunter. They had never asked to be born the way they were, with only one eye and an empty socket in place of the second, yet no matter where they went, the words 'unfortunate', 'unworthy' and 'disappointment' always followed them. Matters weren't aided by the fact that they had little tolerance for what blood they were able to see, and typically went queasy and lightheaded upon encountering it. In spite of this, their family did all they could to try and make them the child they'd always wanted, teaching Iskall to catch, hunt and snare whatever they could in the hopes that they might be useful after all. Their attempts went about as well as expected, and only ended in more disappointment.

Iskall themself wasn't exactly happy with any of it either, having quickly grown sick of the consistent and unnecessary bloodshed that had overshadowed their entire childhood. At the same time, the clan leaders slowly grew more and more tired of Iskall's self-proclaimed pacifism, and one eventually came to the conclusion that they were nothing but a detriment to the rest of the group. In spite of this, Iskall was granted one chance to prove themself as more than a leech, lest they be cast from the clan altogether.

The task itself was simple.

"Kill a wolf."

But, given that tundra wolves were made prey by only the strongest of hunters, it was more of a death wish than a task for Iskall. Not that it mattered to the rest of the clan, as no matter the outcome the problem was now out of their hands and it was up to Iskall alone to decide which way that would end up happening.

"Kill a wolf." They repeated, their voice far quieter and shakier than that of the clan's leader. Standing at the edge of the forest, the trees loomed high above their head and an endless maze of darkness lay before them. Iskall had never ventured into the forest before, let alone by themself, and the axe clutched tightly between their hands provided little comfort. "No problem..."

There were, in fact, many problems that came alongside the task of killing a wolf, but displaying any kind of fear or reluctance wouldn't help Iskall's case whatsoever. Instead, they took a few hesitant steps forward, attempting to make out what lay beyond the wall of trees they stood before, but was unable to see anything through the darkness. A firm yet threatening hand was placed on their back, pushing them even closer to the edge. "You have one chance. Use it well."

Iskall slowly shuffled forwards, their grip on the axe so tight that they feared it might splinter. The forest's canopy was thick and dark, letting little light through, and the snow on the ground eventually dispersed as they wandered deeper into the woods. Things scurried in the dark, every rustle of a leaf or snap of a twig making Iskall jump as they struggled to see through the masses of trees. They were far enough now that a cry for help would never be heard, let alone answered, and whether or not they would survive their mission was up to them alone to determine.