Hudsonville: Tales of the Hunted

Chapter 4.5: Fresh Assignment

Above and away from the city of monsters sat the forboding Black Peak. This treetop settlement was home of the Rangers, Hudsonville's fearsome faction of perimeter guardians and protectors. Their interconnected jungle-gym homes of dark oak shacks and basalt walls were notoriously difficult to traverse, even for the most lithe and nimble of outsiders.

Young Initiates, normally selected at birth to enter their grueling training programs, excitedly gathered outside the base of the tallest treehouse, home to the illustrious and elusive Grandmaster. The encampment had been brimming with energy that morning—whispers spread like wildfire of an unspeakable scandal, one that trickled down from the canopies, from the tight lips of Scoutmasters to the eavesdropping ears of the ever-silent Scouts. Despite their oaths to secrecy and the shadow, it appeared as though the rumor mill did not stop for anyone.

Through the thick glade and across the grand bridge of rope came a pair of piercing emerald eyes, stalking the brush like a lioness on the prowl—Tanya, fresh off the capture of her boyish prey, had been called by the Grandmaster themself, a high honor for such a lowly rank as Scout. Gladly, she took the chance to prove herself during the lackluster performance of another—doubtless enough dedication to the cause will grant her the recognition she so desperately craved. Perhaps they had prepared an execution of the poor, temperamental bastard. Perhaps they would ask her to be the headsman. Her lips curled into a smile at the thought—what an honor it would be.

However, now's not time for smiles—she locked it away quickly as she approached the Grandmaster's hut at the top of the tall tree. The gathered Initiates looked excitedly between one another, reaching their hands out to the honored Scout, Tanya humoring the little rascals with a fist bump here and there. Still, she could not linger for long—various roots and vines sagged from the sides of the final wall, beckoning her, one more hurdle to overcome for the honor of seeing the master. As Tanya began her climb, her thoughts poured over with anticipation and excitement. Whatever could this monumental task be?

A deep breath in, a deep breath out, the hardened Elf stood at the ready once she'd reached the top. This was it. She braced herself as she spread open the beads to the tent. An assault of burning incense in her nostrils, Tanya peered through the low-lit room of bowls and candles. In the center sat a tall Fresni—this one was draped in decorative beads and bits of leather, silently meditating as their guest entered the room.

Rarely had the girl ever seen the Grandmaster—a reclusive type, one that prioritized their existence as a shadow, an unseen protector of the people, a shining example of what the Scouts should aspire to be. Ever watchful—ever silent—ever dangerous. It was so beguiling, then, when many would realize what the Grandmaster truly was, just...just a mere, harmless looking Fresni. It might have been absurd, but then again, it would be the last thing one would expect, would it not? And like her Elders always warned...

...Looks can be deceiving.

The girl took a seat on the ground, just across from her Grandmaster, closing her eyes and meditating on the scent which permeated the room. Lavender. A favorite of Tanya's, as the flower matched her hair. A harmonious feel achieved between the two squatters, the elder began to speak.

Like the rest of their kind, the Grandmaster spoke in a manner of incomprehensible chirps—the only sounds the Fresni were capable of making with their limited anatomy—though the Grandmaster had refined their language enough for their underlings to understand simple orders. Tanya awaited with baited breath, though as the encrypted language processed, the light seemed to drain from her eyes.

It began as routine as she'd expected, Tanya being praised for her successful hunt, her steadfast loyalty to the cause, to the protection of her people, but then...then came the order.