Das Jaeger Und Hexen

Jaeger Und Hexen

The hunter let out a soft sigh as he lowered his musket to the ground that followed with his eyes. The huntsman has been out since early dawn on the side of a mountain range traversing the inner basins and slopes looking for prey. Usually deer could be found in the deeper ranges of the mountains, but to no avail had he even spotted any large game. 

In the past twenty years he had resided in the small village of his birth and at his doors of home industrialization had crept up in his home of Germany, stretching to the border of Switzerland which was where he was hunting. German engineering had been booming, transcontinental railroads now ran through the major cities of Europe, crisscrossing Germany with people and manufactured goods. Perhaps it wouldn't have been such a travesty if it wasn't for the fact that with the increased mechanization of the land, it drove wildlife away from the now dense urban centers. Villages expanded, people moved and bred and created metro's for commerce and trade, people changed and so did legends and traditions. 

Otto, the huntsman's dog had usually always accompanied him on his hunts, but today Otto hadn't been as perky as he use to be.  Earlier, when the huntsman has unlatched the door the dog seldom moved from the dark corner of his habitation. When he had his dog along, he has felt the energy. The primal, beating curving of his mind and soul to survive like his dog felt on the hunt. The way the dog veered it's head and locked it's eye's was extraordinary, remnants of it's wolf ancestors. 

The huntsman lay down in the shrubbery , clutching his bore musket at his side while moving his hand back and forth as if he was stringing a guitar. The sky has begin to become tinged orange, this far in the hunt and nothing was likely to come out even as he had to begin to make the trek back to his place. With one final sigh, the man got up and began walking the barely visible trail through the thick forest. Although with the pollution and deforestation of the current years, the forest had become a sanctuary for dense vegetation, even when he was young he couldn't recall a time when the forest has been so dense, it blotted out sunlight and kept noise in. The forest was so rugged and dense, he recalled how many Roman Legion Unit's through antiquity had been ambushed by Germanic Tribes, the only people who had mastered these lands. 

In the distance he began to hear queer little banter and quips echoing, the sound being broken by the thick tree trunks. Immediately he stopped, he knew he was tired and this wasn't uncommon in the mountains. Often simple sounds were transfigured into odd things through the large open and small spaces. The sound wasn't enough to phase him and he kept his musket at his hip. Again though he heard them, repetitively like a wounded animal making the same cry. He wondered if an old bear trap had caught an animal.  The more he walked and tried to ignore the animal, the more he was drawn to the pleasant cries which began to sound more like moans and grunts. An animal that was wounded now in heat? A final chance to copulate before death. Sex and death are heavily correlated, the drive for reproduction was hastened by impending doom. How sad the hunter thought that our most intimate and pleasurable experiences are drawn out in our most macabre moments. A gross, weak last chance for hereditary. 

The huntsman pushed through thicker shrubbery, mesmerized by the chanting. Even though the hour grew late, he reasoned with himself that he ought to go investigate it. After all a wounded deer or bear could provide meat. If Otto had been along, he would have sent him after the noise rather than himself. The banter grew louder and louder, it now didn't appear to be an animal but it wasn't something human either. It was fast paced whispering, but the whispering began to pinch and hurt his ears almost as if it was burning. The huntsman lay low on his stomach, peering through the lush leaves. Something beyond him, in the front was creating this awful bellowing and groaning. With delayed confidence he began churning forward on the ground, then suddenly the sounds stopped. The lack of noise began to feel, somewhat miserable almost as if the chanting and moaning hadn't hurt his ears at all. 

After a few moments, the moaning began again but this time it was much softer. It rang through his ears as if he felt it inside of him. It was distinctly more feminine and less animalistic than the original. It was beckoning rather than pain or grunts. The huntsman, toyed his thick chestnut colored beard.  Then he spotted it, some anthropomorphic creature hunched with it's head turned. As he began examining it he began to feel light headed and his eyes began to blur. Whatever it was, it has an hourglass figure and from the sides it had a bosom. Suddenly, it became aware of the man and it's head turned. The face of the creature was something wicked, yet it was incredibly beautiful. The face of some cosmic celestial creature with a curved snout and fangs. It had long beautiful black hair though and two soft green eyes. Yet the mouth was dripping with saliva, some demonic force that he couldn't even comprehend.   The horror was so great he could feel the inside of himself struggle, he wanted to simply break down and cry. The man was so scared he could feel his testicles ascend into his stomach. Something so beautiful and so ghastly was in front of him, he didn't know if he was seeing the ultimate evil superimposed onto some magnificent woman. Although it's hands were claw like and visceral, it had the distinct mound of venus that any woman who had bled would develop. Was the man suppose to sit and comfort the creature, run or simply be had by it? 

The creature extended one arm out, revealing the bosom it has. It appeared normal besides the hue of the skin. Soft and round, fertile breasts that could hold milk for a child. Without hesitation, he felt his body move closer to the presence of it's body. It smelled neither of a woman nor of something organic. Closer he moved to the creature, it peered for the first time directly into his eyes. It rested it's hand down on his clothed side, testing the boundaries of the man. The man gazed into it's eyes, disgusted yet fascinated.  The huntsman couldn't stop examining it's female type body, picking out beautiful and ugly parts of its body. The man felt disgusted but then he reached out, without thinking. The man couldn't help himself, he watched from his eyes as his hand reached out and cupped it's breast. The beast felt something tender, perhaps something it hadn't ever felt before. Taking it's claws it rested them on his face. 

Then the man screamed, a screech that pierced even the deafest of creatures. The side of his face was burned to the skull. The creature hesitated, even shocked of it's own power. "You blasted bitch" yelled the man. The burn was so hot, no blood could even pour out of the skin. The heat was so strong it has melted the veins inside his skull, the side of his brain had dissolved slightly. Grayish pink sludge began to drip from his opened nasal cavity. Grunting the man leaped for his musket and fired it, the metal ball pierced through between it's breasts creating a misty spray of blood. The beasts still stood, withstanding a normally fatal blow. Most of the heart was destroyed, but it still beat. The man stood there for a few seconds gasping and then fell. The beasts bellowed and hauled itself to a tree. 

Was some higher god responsible for this beasts inhuman materialization? No, it was something far worse. It wasn't a God. no nothing that weak. It was a supernatural force, the encompassed the entire universe. It was all mighty but had no pure thought or will.  

The creature took a last look at the man, the plunged it's hand into the chest cavity crushing the last remaining bits of it's heart.