The Etherworld Giant

Hunters and the Hunted (part I)

       The Giant sat against a large rock, resting in the warmth of the afternoon sun. He was atop a small mountain overlooking the rolling foothills, searching for the best routes he could travel. He scratched his short red beard, which had accumulated over the past months of the war, as he pondered his next step. He needed food. He did not mind going a few days without food, for that had been a common occurrence times past. But he had nearly a month ahead of him before he would reach "home", and he would need all the strength he could get to travel safely and swiftly... assuming he could even find it. He cursed himself for his stupidity. "I should have brought Narri and the others," he said to himself. "They would know more about quicker traveling and finding food in these hills." Then, as an afterthought, "Are they even alright? They might be hated because of their connection to me." He could not afford to worry about them right now; he had his own problems. They would have to take care of themselves.

       He decided that he would hunt now while he was at full strength rather than later when he was really hungry. He would need some tools to help with that. His knife would not be enough; he would not be able to get close enough to use it. After a brief moment, he decided that a spear and (among his favorite things) rope would be necessary. He smiled as he thought of it. Oh, how he loved rope; it had countless uses, which matched his seemingly limitless imagination. That same imagination had got him into and out of many situations, and also afforded him his own quiet sanctuary to collect himself, just allowing his mind wander. "There I go again," he thought. "Letting my mind run ahead of myself." This scene revealed a great deal of his personality. Despite the reputation he earned as the Giant while among these people, he naturally was very childlike and peaceful in his demeanor. But he was less so now than before he joined the war. He continued to allow his mind to wander, closing his eyes, hoping to catch again the peaceful and enjoyable memories of the past. None came to him. He sighed and was about to open his eyes when Sarai's face settled into his mind. He almost laughed from the relief that came when thinking of her. Some of the most peaceful moments he could recall were when he would walk with her along the rolling hills of the low-lands, telling her of the many things he knew about the world and the stars, and also about his home-- "My home," he thought abruptly. A tear streamed down his cheek. "Why does it have to be gone?" Or, most correctly, why did he have to be gone from it. He did not understand the what or how of what happened, but neither did he believe he ever would. Those memories always brought tears, so he tried to avoid them. 

       Minutes later he was sharpening a freshly cut branch into a spear, taking extra care to make the head broad, yet sharp. After a half hour he declared his work finished, jabbing it at empty air to get the feel of it. He pulled out a length of thin rope from his pack, and began work on a bola. In his mind, it was like a laso, which he was familiar with, but one you did not have to hold on to. It would work well on bringing down a running animal, "Or person," he added observantly, long enough for him to catch. Minutes later, he finished. He practiced throwing it at a small tree, and then practiced some more until he was satisfied that he could hit a moving animal. He set off down the mountain side. "Now to find one...." 

       Not soon after, he was waiting in the brush near a small pool of water, fed by a barely trickling stream. A small clearing lay on the other side of the stream, allowing him an open view. The odds of an animal coming to this spot while he was waiting were not the best; so he had poured the bread crumbs from his empty food sack at the closest edge of the pond, hoping its smell might help lure an animal in. He waited. He waited longer. The sun began to set behind the western mountains, ceasing its warming rays to shine upon him. He began to get a little fidgity. He would not be able to see well in the dark, even if a full moon were out, making success even more unlikely. But he waited. He knew patience was an important part of hunting, even though his experience in his younger years was not with a spear and bola, but with a-- a twig snapped nearby. His alertness spiked, and blood rushed through his veins. A small deer (compared to him) cautiously poked its head from the brush across the clearing. It sniffed briefly, then slowly crossed over to the stream. It flipped its tail, signaling two nearly full-grown fawns to follow. The Giant thought over the situation, looking for the best option. If he killed the mother, the two fawns may not survive on their own. If he killed a fawn, it would provide only a couple days worth. "I am the hunter," he reasoned, "but I only need to kill one." One of the fawn apparently caught smell of the bread crumbs and stepped closer to investigate. No better opportunity. He slowly began to rise into a crouch, and then positioned the bola for easy throwing. One... two.... The mother's ears perked up, and all three immediately bolted away. James was so caught off guard that he did not manage to throw the bola. He stood, cursing himself inwardly for blowing his perfect opportunity. And then, he heard it: footsteps, coming his way.

       The group of twenty men gradually made their way into the small clearing, followed by the three robed women. "This is his trail," a man said," but I can't follow it anymore; his tracks must be too light, and it is getting hard to see." The woman in the black robe approached him and brought a slap hard across his face, knocking him to the ground. "Fool!" she screamed. "You said we would find him before night fall!" Another man cautiously spoke in his defense. "Milady, He can traverse these rocky hills more easily than we can; we thought he would stay in the valleys." The woman's rage subsided, and then hardened into an iron determination and a collective cool that often made others frightened of her. "We will camp here for the night," she announced in a collected voice. And then she hissed, to the two men who had spoken, "You will all rise before dawn, spread out, and search for his trail. If we do not find him by tomorrow, I will personally curse each of you to your graves! Understand!?!" "Yes Milady," they replied, horrified. The two men scurried off to the farthest side of the clearing. One of the grey-robed women came beside her.

"You do not need to be so brusque with them," she said softly.

"If I am not, then they will not listen," came the biting reply.

       The former smiled slightly, but knew better than to argue. The third came and joined them in a small ring, each facing toward the other two.

"Patience, sister," she said. "If we must wait a week, so be it. So long as we fulfill our part and bring the Giant with us back to Akaron, it will be worth it. Until then, we will need these men, so restrain yourself."

The one in black snorted in anger, then again cooled herself. "As you wish, sister." After all three nodded to each other in consent, they walked away from the stream, towards the newborn fire.

** Is the story so far too bland? Not enough detail? Too little dialogue? Please, any short comments are appreciated. Thanks.  (^-^)