Michael

  Michael marched alone in the depths of an inhospitable yet familiar Rodwood Forest. It was around the middle of the day, and not far away, he could hear the waters of a river flowing by, hidden behind the dense foliage that saturated the area, and the legion of moss-covered trees that surrounded him. Some of the trees were bent or had fallen to the ground, victims of their own weight, and the moss that hung from their bodies seemed like long hair. To his eyes, they looked like old men burdened by their age, wrapped in their decrepit moss blankets infested with moths and beetles. He turned his steps towards the river.

  His family followed him behind, about half a mile of distance, he reckoned. They were searching for the creature that killed the Cromfield merchants, though they had found no trace of it so far, unfortunately. Eric and Natalia were distraught over the failed search, and both took out their frustrations on Michael, blaming him for not finding the creature they so desperately longed to find. Curiously, their despair did not seem to stem from a sense of heroism in wanting to locate the creature and thus stop it from claiming more innocent victims. Rather, it came from a sense of desire, as though they knew the object of their lust was about to escape from their fingers, and there was nothing they could do to prevent it. Michael was astonished and, at the same time, marvelled at such behaviour, for it was the first time he had seen his grandfather and aunt act in such a bizarre way.

  He came prepared for this expedition. He carried black clothes and leather boots, a rucksack with all the supplies and tools for camping, a couple of large knives, and a sword for defence. However, he did not carry any of his prized rifles with him. His grandfather had forbidden him to bring them, arguing that they would be of no use in what they were about to face. He fought this decision, considering it absurd, but his grandfather remained stubborn no matter what he said.

  Besides his equipment, he had a linen bag full of wild berries he had picked up along the way since early dawn. His feet started to sore from all the travelling from collecting the fruits and scouting the area. He felt his belly demanding a snack. He glanced at the bag in his hands, but held the temptation. The berries were for him and his family, but he first needed to wash them in the river before eating them.

  Suddenly, he stopped. At his feet, he discovered a small animal trail hidden among the undergrowth and bushes. He stood watching it in motionless silence, with the birds singing all about him and the river running in the background. There was something in the trail that had caught his attention. He placed his bag of berries and rucksack on the ground, then bent down to examine it more closely.

  He noticed animal tracks in it; some were cracked and covered with debris or grass, hinting at their old age, while others looked fresh—the smell of excrement in the damp air supported his observation. There were a couple of strange ones that he had never seen before, and it was these that had arrested his march. He unsheathed one of his knives and used it to cut through the undergrowth and clear the trail.

  The strange tracks were enormous, standing out from the rest like the red of a fly agaric mushroom over the black floor of the forest, oozing its poison. With the trail cleared, he now recognised them. An untrained eye might have mistaken them for bear tracks, fooled by the claws and shape. But not him. Not to an expert. Milton's teachings had made him a man of the woods, a Ranger. He felt proud of his discovery. It was the first time he had found that kind of tracks in the forest, though he had seen drawings of them in books, and Milton had told him countless stories about the beasts that made them.

  “Redmaws have returned to Rodwood,” he whispered to the ancient forest.

  Michael gathered his belongings and continued along the animal trail, looking for more tracks, until he reached the banks of the river, in a clearing large enough to camp. In the damp earth surrounding the water, he found more tracks of redmaws and other animals. To his right, he spotted the remains of a campfire: a circle of rocks with ashes and pieces of charred wood inside. He picked up a piece of the blackened wood and felt it damp and cold between his fingers. The camp owners had left long ago, but when exactly? He couldn't tell. He placed his things beside the circle of rocks and began to explore.

  With a long branch he had found on the ground, and more he snapped from trees nearby, he started to trace circles around the tracks he saw in the best condition along the clearing and the riverbank, and marked them by sticking branches into the ground like flagpoles, so his grandfather and aunt could easily spot them when the rest of the family caught up with him.

  He found scraps of leather and hemp rope not far from the old campfire, as well as a heavy, crudely made stone knife with a broken blade. The redmaws lacked the intelligence to work metal, and their rough, clawed hands afforded them little dexterity when crafting tools.

  Tangled in the bark of a group of trees, he found bits of black fur. They felt thick and rough to the touch. Behind the trees were piles of dried droppings, which told him that the redmaws had used the place as a latrine, and the trees to scratch their furry backs, as if they were bears.

  “How bold of them to camp near the river, not caring if anyone saw them,” Michael said.

  He came across a pair of strange tracks near an old log washed ashore, worn smooth by the ebb and flow of the water. The tracks were as large as those of a redmaw, but the beast that made them appeared to be wearing shoes.

  The tracks of a Fang? He thought upon seeing the print. If there's a Fang, then there must be a hand or two following behind. But where are the drag-wolves, then? I haven’t seen any wolves’ tracks so far. Did they come without their hunting companions?

  Michael returned to the old campfire after finding nothing else of interest. He took a wooden bowl from his rucksack, grabbed his bag of wild berries, and went down to the river to wash them. When he finished, he filled the bowl with some of the berries and put the rest back inside the bag, then placed it next to a large boulder that extended into the river from the bank, like a small jetty. He climbed onto the boulder, took out his boots and socks, and sat with his feet touching the water, watching the river flow by as he enjoyed the berries.

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  “These blackberries are really good,” he said.

  The sun hung high in a clear sky above the forest. It was a warm day, but the humidity from the river made it cooler. He felt the warm river on his feet and felt tempted to dive to wash off the grime that clung to his body from exploring the forest nonstop for days, but he had to first wait for his grandfather's word. He was unsure whether they would stop the march or continue with this ridiculous pursuit.

  On the day of their departure for the forest, Eric gathered the entire family and informed them that he and Natalia had a vague idea of ??what had killed the merchants, but father and daughter behaved like foolish children and decided to keep the identity of the creature a secret. “It’s a surprise, son. I know everyone’s going to love it,” was his reply when Michael asked him. He needed to know about the creature they were looking for, so he could better guide the family through the forest, but Eric remained steadfast in his plan to say nothing.

  However, after days of pressure from Michael, and overwhelmed by the failed search, Eric finally blurted out a name reluctantly: Meatball. All that fuss and trouble, and all they could say was a ridiculous name. The father and daughter were more alike than they wanted to admit.

  According to his calculations, it would take them at least two days to get back home, provided nothing prevented their return, or Eric decided to continue the hunt. But Michael was sure it would end very soon. They didn't have much food left. They had packed supplies for about six days of travel, taking only the essentials so they could travel light and fast. They had to return home soon, or hunger would begin to cloud their minds, thus activating the family curse. At least they were alone in the forest, far from Rodford. It would be the animals who would suffer their wrath when hunger took hold of them.

  ?“Hey, don’t cheat and share!” Michael heard the roar and turned to look. Esther, his cousin and Julie's older sister, was approaching him along the animal trail. Julie was behind her. Both wore the same outfit as Michael: trousers, shirts, and black capes, as well as leather boots and rucksacks made of thick canvas. Esther and Julie were armed with shortswords and daggers.

  Seeing the two sisters together, there was no doubt that Agnes's blood ran strong in their daughters, for both inherited her green eyes and blonde hair, as well as her curiosity about other people's lives. Esther was like an older version of Julie, though she wore her hair short due to the Hunter family tradition. Despite being only fourteen, she already showed signs that she would soon possess a beauty capable of captivating and shattering the heart and mind of any man who crossed her path. Unfortunately, her sweet and beautiful face contrasted sharply with her severe personality. She was the complete opposite of the lovely Helena. Ice ran through her veins. To anyone she deemed a stranger, she denied all appreciation and consideration, and it was difficult to change her mind. Her innate affection existed only for her family. Michael liked to call her "The Captain" because she was always giving orders.

  “Hey, don’t play dumb!” Esther shouted again when she noticed Michael was ignoring her. He pointed to his ears and pretended not to hear her, then put another handful of berries in his mouth.

  Esther growled and ran towards him. She climbed the boulder and snatched the bowl of berries from him with a swipe of her hand. She and Julie then started to fight over the contents.

  Michael said nothing as he watched them. He had more berries in his bag, but he decided to keep it a secret and see how the sisters pulled each other's hair.

  “Stay still, or I won’t give you anything,” Esther said triumphantly, holding the bowl above Julie.

  “I know you want to eat them all. Give me my share,” the little girl said as she pulled at her sister’s clothes.

  After a while, they both made peace and divided the loot equally. They sat down alongside Michael on the boulder and began to eat. He took more berries from the bag and poured them into the bowl. Esther and Julie glared at him. He returned their gaze with a smile.

  “What are all those branches you stuck in the ground?” Esther asked as she ate.

  “You didn't step on any, did you?” Michael asked.

  “No. Are they important?”

  “Yes, they are tracks of—”

  “Hey!” A shout interrupted them.

  It was Helena, sprinting along the animal trail. She almost tripped when she noticed Michael's field of branches at the last moment. "What the hell?" she squealed, dodging the branches. She lowered her speed and walked cautiously towards the boulder. "Where's my share?!" she yelled at Michael.

  Helena had short hair and yellow eyes, just like her mother and brother, and wore the same clothes as her cousins. She was pretty, as expected of a Hunter, and not only in appearance, but also on the inside. Of everyone in the family, she possessed the purest and warmest heart, which was also her curse. What combination could be more dangerous to the soul of a naive and lovestruck man than a beautiful and enchanting woman? Unintentionally, her captivating presence had unleashed a tempest among the men of Rodford village and the surrounding towns, a tempest that only ended when Michael, Natalia, and Victor decided to put an end to the madness with their fists and kicks. But such a tragedy could not be attributed solely to her or to the lovers who longed for her affection. There was something about her that bordered on the extraordinary. According to Eric, she possessed a supernatural aura that evoked a feeling of warmth in every soul that came near her, a blessing also possessed by the founder of the Hunter family, the legendary ancestor. The most loving and kind man who ever lived on Sayrhma.

  “When there’s free food, animals come out to beg,” Michael said, watching her. Whether the aura was real or not, he didn’t know. Eric told him they were immune, and actually managed to suppress it; that was why it didn’t affect Elsa and Agnes, or any of the people who worked at Whitehill. Helena was training with Emma to learn how to control her blessing.

  Michael grabbed more berries from the bag and threw them into the bowl. “Grab some, it’s for everyone,” he told Helena.

  Helena placed her rucksack and weapons on the ground and climbed onto the boulder to eat with them.

  “Do you still have any left?” Esther asked, looking at the bag.

  “I have enough left for grandpa and aunt. I hope that will keep them off my back for a while. Where are they, by the way?”

  “We left them behind when we saw you picking berries,” Helena said.

  “You three need to learn what berries are good and what are not.”

  “Why? We have you, aren’t we?” Esther said, smiling.

  “You sound like Natalie,” Michael said, eating a berry.

  “What are the sticks for?” Helena asked.

  “That’s what I was asking him before you arrived,” Esther said.

  “They're to mark the tracks I found …” He paused. His eyes fell on the reflection of the trees upon the river's surface, and on himself, sitting on the boulder alongside his cousins. Only Victor was missing.

  “I have found tracks of redmaws,” he said after a while.