Tanma

The Hunt- a short story

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I am a twisted little ape. Just throwing that out there.

Anyway this is another story of mine, unrelated to the other two I posted. If this should be in one topic, please merge them. (though the first is pretty old) Anyway before you begin I would like to apologize for my wicked flaws, my twisted visions, and my bad endings. So good luck, those that tread this path.

Roban stared at the rising sun, a swirling wreck of fire and light. The celestial orb climbed closer now, sprinkling her with light. The glowing sky ember danced across the land, illuminating the vines and trees of the Forged Mountains. And it was in one such tree she stood, gazing across the sky.

It was then that Jehn approached her ebony back, his spear slung over his shoulder. "Up here again?" he asked as he lay his hand on her shoulder. His emerald eyes clashed with his amber skin, along with Roban's crimson gaze.

She nodded, before drawing herself up to her full height. "You can see all the Forged Mountains for here," she whispered. "Can you just imagine it? Land carved out of the earth itself. Can you even imagine the hands and shovels that must have made these mountains?"

"If you say so." Jehn held out his hand for her to follow. "Come on, the others will wonder where you are, it's time for the Hunt. You know the rumors."

She nodded eagerly, and followed him down the crimson vines of the tree. Their gloves blocked the poisonous touch of the plant, though most of the villagers avoided it regardless. The plant of the redskin was not desirable to anyone, least their flesh burn.

"You think-" Roban began, "You think if we- I- if I do well, Melissa might grant me a wish?"

Jehn stopped and turned around. "Roban," her brother said, "You know I care about you. But one of these days you will have to grow up."

Roban stumbled at his words, nearly dropping off the vines. Carefully she bit her tongue, and claimed silence until her feet hit the ground.

"You okay?" Jehn asked suddenly as he caught her downcast face. She gave him a quick smile, before forcing herself upright. The two continued on, until they reached their village, half built into the caves of the mountains, half made of wooden tepees.

"You know you can talk to me?" Jehn asked, to which she nodded her head.

"I know." She stepped among the crowd of villagers. As Roban moved in the group she winced as their gazes reached her. Letting the stone eyes shove her Roban moved to the outskirts of the crowd, away from the others.

The village hounds were there as well, their eyes raised for commands. Beehives stood forgotten, neglected for this meeting. Standing before them the current chieftain stood, clasped in his hand a rare smelted spear.

"My children," Chief Brak proclaimed, "I have spoken to Melissa. It is as we feared. The brute carries the sickness of the gods, it will bring death upon us. To end this monster the whole village must hunt down the beast, and together we shall slay it. To this end, Melissa has agreed to join us."

The chief turned to face a hut at the top of the mountains, where Melissa lived. The shelter was simple, and rarely did the avatar require food. Usually Melissa would just lurk on his home, until the tribe need his words or power. But all in all he left them alone, to lead themselves until true danger came.

Melissa was the avatar of the guardian goddess of the Nehork Tribe, and their personal protector, the goddess of the bees, small insects that thought as one, and did as one. Creatures that thought for the best of their hive, dividing themselves up into what jobs they did best. Some said he could summon these bees from the past, others said he could assume their form. No one knew for sure, Melissa preferred to keep his power shadowed, as most of the avatars did before him. Some had been male, others female, all tinted with red.

The villagers dipped their heads as Melissa approached from his hut. His blood red skin splashed into their eyes, and his blue eyes glowed with an alien radiance. The tribe scooted out of his way, as he began to lead them down to the dense forests below.

Roban watched the exotic man closely, his naked soft form hypnotic to the eye. Glancing down she looked at herself in comparison, and a sense of desire overtook her.

Bringing out a smile she pushed against those thoughts, as a warrior jerkily handed her a spear. His eyes were hard, smashing into her like a club. Roban slowly took the spear, as her gaze scattered down.

She walked away, the warrior's eyes stabbing into her back. But as she twirled the wooden shaft she grinned. It felt so good, much better than her stone knife. That blade couldn't harm a rat.

In the Nehork , society work was divided among the two sexes. Males hunted and foraged for food and relics of the gods, while women refined the artifacts and made clothing and food. Thieves and makers, with the oldest thief become the chief. That was how it had been for generations.

Roban's eyes flashed sad, before recovering to their normal shine. For a brief moment she had remembered one of the mutations of the village.

The sickness that had killed off the bodies of the gods had led to abnormalities in the bodies of the Nehork people. Most were minor, like an extra finger. But some were more serious, like legs merged together or the face being completely deformed. Those extremes mutations were killed off, in both mercy and necessity.

She could remember the child. Such a smiling face, its hands had been so tiny. And then they chopped its head off. Because it had...confusing body parts. Because it was not divisible.

Roban shook herself of that, before walking alongside as her village divided into small squads. As she settled into her section, she knew no dog would be joining them, for their path would be the treetops. It was not the path for a hound.

With her group she trekked on, moving though the jungle. The sick beast had to be found and killed, it was a remnant of the plague that had robbed the gods of their physical form, rendering them only as enigmatic forces and ghosts inside the bodies of their avatars.

The small squad walked on, creeping across the trees that covered the Forged Mountains. They stepped across the many branches, trying not to stray to the vulnerable ground, where any predator could devour them.

Roban suddenly froze, as a low growl echoed around them. In a bolt, a brute broke through the underbrush, clawing its way up the tree where they stood. It had yellow eyes and the body of one of the wildcats, but with the size and fierceness of a wolf.

The creature lunged into one of the group, raked into her with its claws. The women fell, just as the predator was speared by one of the guards. The beast swiveled around, before leaping into the attacker, the spear snapping from the powerful jump.

The predator rampaged into the hunter, as Roban and her fellows threw their spears. The stone-tipped spikes pierced into the beast, though they missed any vital organs. With a snarl, it turned around, leaping at the three survivors.

Roban ducked as the beast charged, before it ripped into another hunter. Quickly she reached into her belt, plucking from within a knife. The tool was intended to cut hide, from the crafting of clothing. It was not a weapon.

The brute turned on her now, as the other still-breathing hunter scaled a tree. As he fled she broke into a run, snatching up the broken-off half of the damaged spear.

Many creatures that had the sickness had strange abilities, and this one could keep going despite numerous wounds. Spears jabbed out of its body, and yet the energy pumping through its body kept it strong. Of course the predator had began to slow, weighed down by their weapons.

Quickly she threw up the broken shaft, blocking the beast as its claws slashed at her. Then with a clean thrust, she drove her knife forward, impaling the mutated predator in its eye.

The mutated cat collapsed, its breathing shallow. As she looked at the abomination, she stumbled at its twisted form. This was not just a big cat, this was a cat warped and stretched from its natural size. It was trapped, whether willingly or not.

She hesitated for only a brief moment before swallowing. Taking the stick she pushed the knife deeper into the beast's skull, penetrating its core. The creature whimpered half-heatedly, and then fell absolutely silent.

Roban stood back, just as the sound of whooping erupted behind her. Slowly she turned to see the bulk of the tribe, clutching their spears at the ready. She stood up, and gestured towards the bleeding dead mutant.

"You said the others had died!" Brak rounded on the runner. The sprinter hung his head in shame, casting his eyes deep into the canopy below. The chief shook, glaring over at Roban and the beast. Roban fought the urge to turn away, even as the other villagers joined in.

"Still," Brak grumbled, "At least the beast was brought down." He walked over to the slain mutant, eyeing the numerous broken spears impaled along its body.

"So the deed is done," Melissa said, coming into view. The scarlet avatar looked down at the creature, his eyes deep and heavy. Roban couldn't help but wonder at those eyes, somehow they were even more beautiful than the flaming curves of his skin.

"Yes," Brak stated, "The sick one has been slain. This patrol managed to bring it down by sheer numbers, though only two appear to have survived."

"Who had the final blow?"

Brak bit into his teeth and answered, "It did."

Roban's body tensed, her hand clenching itself into a hard knot. Then it was gone, like always. It was better that way. With a smile of relief that it was over, she turned away as the crowd walked away. Slowly she diverged from their path, and departed into the jungle.

Roban sighed once she was alone. "Why can't I be a thief?" she whispered to the gods, her faced breaking, "I hate the growths, the blood that spews. I can hardly make nothing beyond a simply knife. And it's just boring. It's a living death! I just, I feel like a bee. A grown bee that is still a larva. Why can't you give me wings." There was only silence.

As Roban made her way through the forest she search the ground, searching for stones. She would need a new knife, and she was the only one who could make herself a new one.

She shoved rock upon rock between her fingers, before shimmering up a tree. As she reached the branches she settled between a few interwoven paths, and began to smash stone against stone, banging the rocks in small thunderclaps.

Shards burst from the clashes, which she carefully looked over with her eye. Roban took a promising rock, and laid it in her lap. Gripping two thick chunks of stone, she held them like a hammer and a chisel. With youthful energy she cracked the stone, chipping off new flakes.

Finding a somewhat satisfying knife, she slide it within her belt. "I was wondering where you left for," a gentle voice washed over her, coming from the forest below.

Roban leaned down to see Melissa approaching, his azure eyes tinted with concern and relief. And something in between.

"Oh," she smiled, "I'm fine."

Melissa looked at her and said simply, "You wanted a wish."

"...Was it that obvious?" Roban's face fell to its natural state, her lips pounded into a frown.

"Your brother once asked for a wish," Melissa looked down, "For you. I was...unable to give you what you wanted. He did not take it well."

Roban slipped back under her smile, "Sounds like Jehn."

There was a pause, left only with awkward stares. Finally Roban ventured, "So...you can't make me a thief then?"

Melissa sat beside her and sighed. He finally spoke, "You know, the gods did not make these mountains. At least, not as they are."

Roban turned curiously as he went on, "They were massive huts reaching up into the clouds. I believe they were called skyscrapers, for it was as if they could tear though the heavens. They only became mountains after the gods died off, when the time of storms smashed dirt and rock into their huts. That was how the mountains were forged, coiled around a core."

"They made the sickness you know," Melissa sighed, "It was a side-effect of their greatest weapon. A weapon so strong that it disintegrated enemies on impact, leaving just burnt shadows."

Roban tilted her head as he went on, "The gods were incredible, they could even change someone from thief to maker, male to female, and vice-versa. But their time is passed, and only a few remnants remain."

"Could there be any of that power left?" Roban asked hopefully.

"I don't know," he sighed, "But I doubt it. It has been countless seasons since the gods fell. If they were gods."

Roban's eyes expanded as he looked down, "I can't give you that power, I can't help you. I can only tell you that the technology they used was complicated, and if it remained it is forgotten."

"So what do I do?"

"Your brother will help you," Melissa stated, "But beyond that I can do little. But if there was some ancient power...it might be in the deeper caves. Some of them were once rooms."

Roban dipped her head in thanks, disheartened. As Melissa walked away she clutched her head, trying to smile. But no grin emerged.

"I'm dying," she whispered, looking over her body. She shudder at it, holding up her knife. For a moment she wondered if she might make herself a thief, by carving off her twin growths.

As she stared at her chest and her knife, she remembered Melissa's words. Was he telling her to search for this power? And strangely, did it really matter if he meant to?

She stood up. She had to find the ancient power, the god's had given her this mission. At the least maybe she would find a better knife for skinning herself. Maybe Jehn would-

"No," she sighed, "They like him. I can't let him abandon the village. They would kill him too. I...I have to go alone." Forcing her smiling mask back on her face, she headed off into the mountains.

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