I need to make new shoes.
I propped my spear against a boulder and kicked off my worn cottle-skin boots. They reminded me of my first years as a Demon Hunter. I'd made them myself, wrestled the perfect golden-white she-cottle and everything. But they were falling off my feet now. I dropped them on the ground and leapt onto the boulder, spear in hand. I waited in practiced paralysis: still and quiet as the hard surface of the rock.
A skitter in the ferns. My eyes flicked to the shadows in and between the leaves. Black beetle eyes, weighing chances, and finally darting out across the forest floor. I hurled the spear and it fell limp. Personally, I didn't much like minkrats. I jumped lightly from the boulder and tied the kill to my belt with the rest of my catch. They were a touch too dusty. But the meat kept well.
Eight pieces seemed enough. I hurled the boots out as far as I could into the trees and heard a tussle as something large swallowed them. Softly I made my way back through the woods to the tree where I'd left the rest of my game, stopping now and then to sniff for direction. Fortunately, it remained untouched. I left my spear and swung up into the branches to cut the bag down.
As I worked through the knot, I felt eyes on me from the direction I'd just come. Demon eyes. I let my hair fall forward and cover my face, but kept working on the ropes as if nothing had changed. My mind spun furiously. I knew I should have stopped five minkrats ago. This much prey was only bound to draw attention, and the rest of the hunting party had long since dispersed by the falls.
I took a few calming breaths, closed my eyes, and sniffed the air. Relief washed over me. A single Felnix, and a young one at that. I smelled its hunger, but not much aggression. It probably thought me an easy target: a young female Cavulf without her spear. A common mistake. Patiently, I stalled, and then the beast came out like I knew it would.
Just when it was coming to the base of my tree, I threw the sack down at it with full force. It let out a yowl of surprise as over 100 pounds of animal flesh and blood knocked it to the ground. I snarled and leapt down at the demon, who was frantically detangling itself from the ropes. We threw ourselves at each other, me slashing with my dagger, it waving my spear wildly. I wrenched the weapon easily from its grasp and kicked it hard in the stomach. It screeched and tried to claw me but I sent it flying into a tree and then slit across its chest. Dark blood spread over the beige tunic. Suddenly it sprang at me and battered my face. I dropped the knife and slammed a fist into its side, then without giving it time to think, grabbed a heavy branch and rammed its head. It ran mewling back into the cover of the forest and I heard the uneven footfalls fade away. That demon wouldn't have lasted much longer anyways. It was much younger and smaller than I.
I checked for wounds - only a few scrapes, nothing serious - and gathered the kill. Now where did I drop my knife?
I heard the hiss only moments before something large and feral flew at me from behind and knocked me heavily to the ground. After wildly dodging a few punches I managed to twist on my back and kick the attacker off me, then reached for my knife and sprang to my feet. I lunged to the side to avoid a fresh attack - damn it's a fast one - and circled back to face them with my most menacing growl. Another Felnix, this one taller than me, with long fangs, sharp black claws, and a muscular build. And it had golden hair. I heard my father telling me years ago, "Look out for the ones with hair like the sun. They're the hard ones to beat, the fighters of their pack."
We faced off each other, both hostile and warning, and then dove forward in a dance of leaps, kicks, punches, and swipes. I concentrated with every ounce of focus, every drop of energy, every bit of training and strength in my being to avoid being skewered on those claws. One wrong move and I was done for; this demon was out for a kill. Neither of us could make a substantial move against the other. It clawed my arm, I stabbed its. I kicked, it dodged. And all this in a whirl of movement that I could barely keep up with. But somehow I anticipated it almost simultaneously, though the Felnix was undoubtedly stronger than I. And though I didn't want to admit it, I knew because, in truth, each move was what I would have done, each attack so very like mine, and then some. We backed off, panting, and my eyes met its aggressive ice blue ones. I sucked in my breath. I couldn't help thinking they were so like my friend, Mett's. That was my undoing, and before I knew what was happening, the demon had me pinned on the ground with my own knife pressed against my throat.
I breathed heavily and wondered if my people would find me or if some wild animal would eat my dead body first. Those blue eyes glared at me for what seemed like an eternity. Then the Felnix opened its mouth and tore my world apart.
"Don't touch my brother." That's all he said. Then he bit my cheek and disappeared into the trees. I never saw him go. I lay speechless on the soft ground and blindly watched the sun scatter patterns through the leaves.
