For we once so loved the world by HowlingDarkness95

Chapter 34

The hunter stayed in the shadows where he had come from, his cold yellow eyes fixated on the river bank. His mistress had summoned him some time before – time was immeasurable down here in Niflheim – and delegated to him a task of utmost importance. Moments after receiving his orders, he set off for the plains, his senses attuned to his prey like a hunting dog to its quarry. He tracked his prey across the desolate lands of Niflheim, not that the hunter noticed, it was after all, his homeland, a terrain he was used to hunting in. Furthermore, its shadowy grounds provided sufficient cover for him when he needed it. He followed the trail left by his prey diligently, knowing that there was no need for him to rush when there was nowhere to run on Niflheim. He always caught up to his prey eventually. The bodies of the wolves were long gone, turning to dust that mingled with the ashy ground, but their stench remained. He touched the ground, inhaling deeply, the scent of blood and sweat permeating his olfactory system. Yellow eyes gleamed thirstily at the prospect of a hunt, and the hunter set off again, quickening his pace as the distance between him and his prey closed.

Now, standing under the cover of spindly branches splayed out above his head like skeletal fingers, the hunter watched and waited. His grip on his weapon tightened, remembering his failure at securing his prey. In all the missions that his mistress had entrusted him with, this was the first time a prey had escaped him. Never before had a prey escaped his grasp. They ran, yes, that was expected, but futile, nothing could outrun the hunter, and he always caught up to them in the end. All things considered, the hunter was efficient in his hunt, and when he cornered his prey, they wailed and screamed as he slit their throats, silencing them forever. They were easy to track, and even easier to kill, and he returned to his mistress with victory in his bag.

Naturally, he expected this hunt to be the same.

The trail was easy to follow, his prey not even bothering to hide the tracks, but when the hunter finally cornered his prey – in a matter of speaking, because the open field was hardly a conducive place for cornering – and moved in for the kill, his prey did something unexpected.

He fought back.

Of course, other victims had fought back too, if punches that seemed feather light against the hunter's skin could be called fighting. But no, this prey had fought back with all the ferocity of a seasoned warrior. The hunter, called so because of what he was meant to do, felt his inner beast awaken. The slumbering beast beneath ragged cloth and stretched skin rearing its head at the prospect of a true hunt.

The hunter had expected to come out top, naturally, since that seemed to be the recurring pattern in his quests. His prey had stood on equal ground against him, even managing to push him back, but ultimately, the hunter emerged victorious. And when the hunter had gone in for the kill, he remembered the feeling of sliding a sharp blade through flesh and cartilage, when his prey had thrown one last card, gambled, and won.

The hunter, for once in his existence, had experienced shock, his yellow eyes displaying the emotion for all to see even as his body dissolved into black mist, a bone-deep cold spreading throughout his body. When he had regained his senses enough to reform his body again, he found himself appearing where their last battle occurred. The hunter scanned the horizon with dispassionate eyes, gaze landing on a darkened patch of ash. He cocked his head to one side, interest gleaming in yellow eyes as he picked up the trail, tracking his prey to the river bank, where ash turned into water. There he waited until now, having no desire to deal with the parody of hunters that called themselves draugar. He waited by the river bank, knowing that his prey would cross back eventually. One with such a strong fighting spirit would not succumb easily to the useless corpses. And even if his prey fell to those creatures, he would still retrieve the wayward soul and bring it back to his mistress.