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Final Reward
Christmas Carousel
Job For Life
* * * * *
ECHOES OF A HUNTER
* * * * *
It was Midwinter. The snow lay thick and gleamed in the late afternoon. The sun shone from a cloudless sky giving no comforting heat, only illuminating the white desolate silence.
He walked slowly at the forest edge where the snow was thin and patchy. At this boundary between the brightness and the gloom of the dense woodland, was the place to hunt. That momentary hesitation before entering the darkness or stepping into the light could prove fatal.
The hunter seemed unaffected by the biting cold. Discomfort kept at bay by an all consuming hunger. Days had passed since he had eaten anything substantial. The need for food took primacy over all else. He stopped in mid stride. The light breeze into which he walked brought a mixed signal. Hope and danger carried in the trembling air the unmistakable smell of blood.
A fresh kill was nearby. He would show proper respect as a stranger must and parley for a small share. If rebuffed he was prepared to fight. To die fighting was better than starving to death. Quickening his pace he approached a small settlement near the forest edge. The smell of blood was now overpowering.
Every door was shut tight protecting those inside against the stiffening breeze and falling temperature. Thin grey smoke rose from holes in the shallow pitched roofs. It did not rise far. The breeze blew the smoke across the walled yard where he knew the carcass waited. He felt uneasy. At this time of year light was precious. Men did what could be done until day gave way to night.
Then from the far side of the settlement, hidden by the buildings, he heard a scream followed by wild cheering. Some sport he thought. Breaking from cover he hurried towards the yard. His mind made up. If the kill was small enough he would take it all before he was seen.
The enclosure had held several cattle, a pile of feces gathered in one corner bore witness. The cows had been inside for some time. There were no hoof prints in the snow only the marks of passing human feet, one set was very small. The small prints only went into the centre of the enclosure where the carcass lay. He knew he should leave this place without delay but curiosity won the day.
Silently he advanced to the centre of the enclosure and looked down at the lifeless form. The child lay on its back. The head had been beaten to a pulp, a red halo had spread in the snow. The blood filled air was rent by a savage scream. He spun around. The entrance to the enclosure now blocked by two men. Their eyes were filled with hate and death. One's hands were already covered in blood.
As they guarded the exit, other men entered and slowly began to encircle him. All were carrying knives or axes. They all had the same merciless look in their eyes. Before the ring of sharpened steel was completed, he raced madly through the gap and cleared the wall.
To reach the safety of the now darkening forest he would have to run in a semi-circle around the enclosure wall. Instead, in a blind panic, he ran passed the closed dwelling doors and headed across the open rolling ground. Outside the settlement a man hung by the neck. From the waist down he was naked. His manhood had been hacked off and nailed to the crude gallows post.
The sight of the mutilated corpse gave him added imputes. His stride lengthened and soon his breathing synchronized with the fast pace. Then he covered the ground as if without effort. Even the constant gnawing pain of hunger forgotten in the joy of speedy flight. The large red sun now squatted on the horizon. The distant forest now no more than five miles away.
Redoubling his efforts his arrival at a dense thicket sheltered by a stand of tall close packed trees, was witnessed only by the full moon floating in the cloudless star spangled sky. The ground beneath the thicket was soft, nearly dry and thankfully sheltered from what was now a strong wind. His tired body ached as he relaxed. Tomorrow he must find food and a dry safe place to stay. Had winter ever been so unrelenting he would not have argued if told the world was dying. Sleeping, dreaming of the coming springtime, life wakening, a fresh start in the warm sun.
The first sound to reach into his dream time was the crack of a twig. The second was the hiss of the arrow as it sang through the air. The missile thumped into his body entering the left side of his rib cage. Fully awake he looked at the end of the feathered shaft and knew for him there would not be another time of warmth and plenty.
He gazed at the face of his triumphant assailant. Lips parted in a victorious grin exposing his broken yellow teeth, clearly seen by the light of the hunters moon. The bowman shouted with joy and drew his heavy sword. Again and again he shouted. With each call more and yet more eyes gazed down at the dying victim of their pursuit.
At last when all had gathered to bear witness, the tip of the sword was offered to heaven Each mans breath was held. The blade descended, biting into his neck. A hand grasped his hair and the severed head was held aloft. In the few seconds remaining as his brain burnt off his last breaths oxygen, the star filled sky, trees and snow covered earth whirled past as the trophy was waved to the cheering throng, as the executioner pirouetted in their midst.