[Short Story] Hunter

[Momogari]

Marl let her breath out slowly, wide-mouthed, not making a sound. Her eyes scanned the canopy above and below, slowly passing over each branch, vine, for a glimpse of changing light. Insects buzzed in a low drone and the calls of some animal echoed through the forest in the distance. A drop of sweat rolled down her brow. This was the location. She was sure of it. It would pass through here in the next few hours. Dozens of hours of tracking its passage had brought her here; she knew its routine.

Seeing nothing yet, she wiped her brow and ran a hand over her belt, feeling the safety latch of each grenade in turn. She took a sip from her canteen, closed it, returned it to its clip on her back straps, and began to inhale. Slowly.

This part of the Borai forest was more open than most. The trunks of the world-trees were thick here, two dozen paces in diameter as they twisted in graceful curves from the canopy below to disappear high above through the accompanying foliage supported in their branches and crooks. Plants grew in every direction, connecting the spaces in between, but no roads had been built here, no lifts spanned the depths. Marl didn’t know exactly how wide the Borai forest was, nor how far down it went, nor how far up. But she knew it was hunting ground for at least a dozen villages, some of them not within a hundred hours travel of each other. Which was why it hadn’t been strange that creatures previously unseen here might be roaming its depths.

Something caught Marl’s eye, and she twitched her eyes to the left and down while slowly turning her head. A second later, several hundred meters away, a small brown simian form leapt through the trees traveling lateral to her. A monkey. She dismissed it, slowly scanning her eyes back across the center of her view.

She stopped, staring intently at a particular place through the trees. It was dark, which told her nothing. But the dark shifted, and she felt her pulse quicken. The shadow was farther than the monkey had been and she couldn’t see what it was. She reached her right arm behind her back and unclipped the scope. This far away, she shouldn’t have to worry about giving away her movements—or should she? She slowed down, just in case. Slowly raising the scope to her eye, she peered through its plastic endpiece and scattered foliage leapt to her eyes. She kept both eyes open, the scoped side attempting to locate the spot her naked eye was staring at. Was that it? She braced her elbow on the solid wood vine next to her to try to steady her hand, suppressing her frustration with the device.

She found the spot—probably—and watched carefully. The darkness shifted again, and she watched in horrified fascination as the darkness crept slowly towards her.

In the forest, nothing is truly dark. Light abounds, drifting through the trees, clumping and fogging. Even in the most cavernous spaces, one would not be able to see more than a few thousand meters, the distances blurring through the clouds of light. Where the trees grew, the light grew also. Light was everywhere.

Except near darkspiders.

Marl had assumed this part of their legend was fictional, but now, seeing one for the first time, she saw the hazy blackness ebb and flow from the creature, making it indistinct, a splotch against the amber fog suffusing the green of the forest. Through the scope she tried to see its form but couldn’t. It was an unnatural black cloud. And one moving towards her. It hadn’t spotted her. It was traveling at a slight angle apart from her direction, and would pass under her and to the right if it kept its current bearing. Her lips turned up in a satisfied smirk even as she drew painfully controlled breaths and her heart beat forcefully against her ribs. She lowered the scope and shifted over to the edge of her island. Yes, there was a perfect place to bounce a grenade. She swallowed, settled back, and watched it approach.

This was not her job. By all rights she shouldn’t be out here. Damn Fergus for making her do this, but she would get what she wanted. The last several days were miserable in the hot jungle but the thrill of this moment, too, almost…no, Marl could tell with some surprise that she was enjoying this. She had no right to be, given that no matter what the stories said about darkspiders, one thing in common among all stories was that they were very big and very dangerous. It was an idiotic thing she was attempting, she knew. But she would get what she wanted.

She picked up her rifle and slowly checked it over. The ammunition clip and the propellent canister were securely fastened, the nat-bag clipped tightly to the bottom. It was not the first weapon she would use, but depending on how mobile the darkspider was when enraged, she may have to depend on it quickly.

Moments passed and she watched it slide slowly on, nearing the place beneath her tree.

Bringing the scope to her eye again, she examined it more closely.

Through the haze of its light-eating aura, she saw solid movement. Her breath caught as she saw its limbs were not spiders’ limbs at all: they were tentacles. At least a score of them, each thicker than her arm. She saw it bring its malleable appendages forward, gripping each branch and vine deftly and deliberately. This creature was made for this forest. So why did it seem so alien?

Questions could wait. The darkspider entered her target zone.

She lifted the latch on one grenade, and tossed it with careful precision. Without waiting, she unlatched another one, waited a second, and tossed it too, slightly to the right. The first grenade arced through the air. It hit the sharply sloping side of the world-tree, and the CLACK echoed through the forest, suddenly seeming to be the only sound in the world as it silently bounced directly into the darkspider’s path. The sound had alerted it, though, and it halted a moment before the grenade exploded directly in front of it. Marl felt the buzzing vibration through the tree as she grabbed her rifle with her left hand, another grenade with her right, and watching raptly, ready to move at a moment’s notice. The darkspider thrashed, the rustle of foliage and breaking woodvines crackling and surfing like a windy gale through the forest. It did not cry out. Apart from its thrashing, it made no sound at all. The second grenade exploded in air some meters away from it—too far to do anything. And then it moved. It launched itself up the tree next to hers, climbing faster than she could have ever imagined. It dripped ooze and it registered to Marl that yes, it was wounded from the first grenade—but its speed and strength was frightening as it crashed through and around the canopy, climbing this way and that over the tree. It passed her and she realized that it hadn’t realized where she was. It crossed trees somewhere above her and she listened to its passage as it traveled to her left. Yes, it was looking for her. Still it made no sound. Was it voiceless? She slowly moved her head, daring to get a glimpse around the thicket above her head. No! It was moving away! She brought her rifle around, aimed, and fired.

Through the flash she saw the bullet hit home and it spasmed again, changing direction to come towards her again. She drew back behind the trunk and questioned the wisdom of shooting it.

She pulled herself as deep into her perch as she could, her hand gripping the latch on another grenade at her belt. She had two left.

She saw the light dim half a second before the tentacle appeared, gripping a woodvine that supported the thicket surrounding her. Ready, she threw the latch on the grenade and then jumped, sailing through the air into a soft landing she knew was below. Her legs still protested as she pounded the leafy embankment, but didn’t look back as she sprinted out onto the branch, her rifle on her back. The grenade exploded and she glanced back. The grenade had dislodged the creature but it was falling towards her! She stopped and stared in panic as it came down meters from her, its tentacles gripping at the branch she was on. She felt the barest motion in the thick branch as it the creature’s body hit the wood in a flurry of grasping tentacles, and the shudder of the normally sturdy branch sent her instinctively into a crouch. She watched in tense rapture as the creature scrabbled for purchase, but slipped on its own ichor and tumbled off the branch. Safe.

She put her foot onto a woodvine and looked out into the expanse. She saw it catch itself on the growth below.

“Not yet, you bastard.” She swung her rifle around and sighted. It was already moving towards a path upwards. She fired, and clenched her teeth at the miss. Bolt back, turn, forward. She fired again, this time hitting it on its side. It was almost to the other end of the branch. She unlatched her last grenade. Without taking time to think, she spaced her legs wide apart and waited two seconds as the darkspider climbed onto the natural bridge. She launched the grenade with a strong underhand throw and it exploded in front of the darkspider. It stunned it momentarily but with a horror she realized she hadn’t killed it. She brought up her rifle but with a whiplike tentacle it smacked it out of her hands, sending it tumbling into the canopy below. Feeling sense leave her, she turned and ran, thinking of nothing other than fleeing the shadowy cloud that voicelessly thrashed behind her. A tentacle caught her leg and she fell. Before she realized it she was sliding off the branch and with fleeting resignation she knew she was dead.

Falling off a branch in this part of the forest was certain death.

Her body swung wildly as she waited for the weightless drop, but the creature still gripped her leg and she dangled, her body jerking violently as it thrashed. She saw glimpses of the creature above her as it seemed to loom over her. It was again trying to maintain hold on the thick branch of the worldtree, but her own weight was dragging it down. The creature was likely five or even ten times her weight, but with inadequate purchase her weight was a lever unbalancing the darkspider. It almost seemed to forget it was holding her as its grip on the branch once again failed and now, only having been momentarily delayed, freefall began.

Dark tentacles swirled in the air around Marl as she died. What was this creature, really? The dark fog surrounding it had never let her see a face. What did it eat? Where did it live? Why did it follow a routine? Stupid thoughts. Why should she care? She should be thinking about… what was it? Her village? Her brother? Herself, and the life that she’d never have?

Huh, she thought. I guess I don’t really care.

And she hit.





Poll Belvedere pushed the door into the ombud’s office, and his father looked up from his desk.

“Hey dad, the lads and I are going to Elf Lake.”

The balding older man’s frown deepened slightly. “I thought you were helping the Lesters with their home expansion today?”

Poll spread his hands. “It’s done.”

His father grunted. “Alright. Have fun.

Poll turned to leave but stopped before closing the door. “Hey dad, how long does it take to get to Haversly?”

Fergus took a halting, hesistant look at Poll before schooling his face into a nonchalant expression. Which for him, was just a lighter form of dour. “Forty hours just about. Thirty-five if you hurry. Not planning on going, are you?”

Poll’s face darkened as he did the math. The boy was plainly worried. But to Fergus he said simply, “No. Just wondering. See you later, dad.”

As his son left, Fergus sighed and tried to concentrate on the letter in front of him.




Elf Lake, a 2 hour walk from the village of Killigan, was a small natural lake fed by a small riverfall. Nestled in a dense part of the forest, it was composed of three levels of twisting coves, each level having several waterfalls into the level beneath it. The riverfall was thin, closer to a trickle than a roar, but it twisted down the trunk of a worldtree in winding rivulets, sometimes passing through air as it fell only to collect and run down the smooth tree trunk again before settling silently into the upper level of Lake Elf. Situated along the main road leading into the city, the park was the pride of the town where visitors were concerned. Among the townsfolk, it was often visited on holiday, or for weddings or the like. Poll’s own wedding was planned for the town square, however. It was too much trouble to ‘traipse down to the lake with all the fixings of a good and proper wedding’, as his mother said it. Standing on the bank now, his feet in the mud, Poll wasn’t sure he wanted his wedding here either. As pretty as it was otherwise.

A head broke the water as Egan came up for air. He raised his arms and yelled loudly at the canopy, causing trees and bushes to rustle as critters hid. “Ah! That’s sky cold!” He looked at Eric and the other two young men on the bank. “Well come on, get your warts in here.” Egan was young and strong, with a muscled chest and black hair that now clung to his head, dripping down his back. He smiled heartily at the others.

Not waiting for Kem or Eric, Poll grinned, took one step back and launched himself into the water. He felt his breath catch as the biting cold of the lake enveloped him. He surfaced with shock and took quick, gasping breaths as he paddled. As he adjusted, he ran a hand back through his own dusky brown hair and laughed shallowly back at Egan’s grin.

“Shit that’s cold.” Poll turned to see Eric behind them, probably having jumped in just after. He held his arms close to his thinner body and looked like he was shivering.

“Get your ass in here, Kem!” Egan called.

The portly man stood on the bank grinning, his shirt still on. “Oh no, I’m just around to laugh at you fools, I’d thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

“You think so, huh?” Egan said. He waded towards the shore. Grinning malevolently, Poll followed him.

Kem put on face of mock shock. “My god, haven’t you? I didn’t know you were so bad at figuring. My condolences to your mother.”

“I have nothing but thanks for your mother, Kem. But she told me you needed a bath, right Poll?”

“Yes, I was there last night too,” Poll said nodding with an attempted straight face and he could hear Eric behind them laughing.

“Oh no,” Kem said. “You won’t get me in there. Just you try.” He reached down and scooped up big handfuls of mud and as he readied himself to run, threw the mud patties at Poll and Eric before sprinting off. Egan dodged his projectile but Poll felt the slap on the side of his face. He wiped it off and ran with tall strides the the remaining two meters to the shore and bounded up, maliciously determined to dunk Kem now, shirt or no.

Kem was faster than he looked, though, and he sped up a tree in leaps and bounds and onto another. Where Kem used only his feet, Egan and Poll both grappled the vines with both hands and feet as they vaulted after him. Poll’s wet skin began to chill bitingly as he felt the wind of his passage. Kem was above the water on a thick branch now, well ahead of Egan. Eric was knee-deep at the bank now, picking up piles of clay and launching them at Kem, who deftly dodged every one. Then a pile of dirt hit Egan’s face, who spluttered, surprised, and with a dooming glare jumped into the lake and began swimming full speed towards Eric.

“Oho! I’m sorry,” Kem said ahead of Poll and he turned to look. Kem had broken out onto the main road and had apparently almost bumped into someone. Poll moved to join him, interested in meeting a visitor.

“Wait, you’re Poll’s…” Kem started.

“Yes…” the stranger said sardonically. “Hi.”

Curiously Poll pulled himself up onto the road and with shock he recognized the dirty unkempty hair. “You’re back! How was your trip back home?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Who told you I went home?”

Poll frowned. “My dad. He said you had gone to Haversly.”

She snorted. “I can believe that.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your reunion,” Kem said pleasantly, “but what in sky hell is that?” he pointed to the large package strapped to her back.

She unlatched the strap at her front on one shoulder, grimaced in pain, then undid the other. The gray mass thudded onto the solid wooden road with a soggy squelching noise.

“That’s the head of a darkspider,” Marl said.



Marl was limping—apparently she had been for the 50 hours traveling, and so Poll supported her as Kem, having lost in rock-paper-scissors, shouldered the grisly chunk of Marl’s kill as they made their way back to Killigan. On the way Poll questioned Marl about why on earth she was carrying a darkspider and where she had been—but got no answers.

“Look, Poll, you’re a nice guy and all, but I’d rather just wait until we get to the village.” She heaved a sigh but it made her cough once. “We’ll settle things then,” she replied grimly.

He frowned concernedly but didn’t ask for more.

“Granted,” she said after a while, a bit lighter in her tone, “I might just want a bath first.” She shook her head. “Now that I think of it, I guess I should have just jumped into the lake with you.”

Eric and Egan glanced back at the two of them. Poll fought a blush. The other boys—like him, at least yet, were unmarried. The Ombud’s son carried enough weight that he was bound to marry first. He held his friendships well though, and his status didn’t affect his other relationships. The thought of Marl wet and dripping, however… well, Poll was sure he wasn’t the only one with the image in his mind.

Marl…at least when she was cleaner, was red-haired and, if not slim, then strongly proportioned. She was taller than most women in Killigan, but still half a hand shorter than Poll—roughly Egan’s height. Kem, an all-around big fellow, was the taller one, and brown-haired brown-eyed Eric was average in every way possible. He had grown a thin beard and mustache because he said it made him look sexy…but without the fullness of his future prime or the smoothness of skillful grooming, it was average too.

At last they neared the town and the first to see them coming up was Ansel, an 8-year-old girl, and Henriette, who turned at her daughter’s exclamation. Poll nodded respectfully to Henriette, who nodded back and began to smile but it seemed forced, her glance on the undoubtedly shocking mess that was Marl, walking side by side with him as he supported her. They passed without a comment in either direction, though.

“So will you want to get a bath first after all?” Poll asked.

Marl sighed. “I suppose I should. Heaven knows I won’t be credible like this.”

“You should see a doctor, too.”

“That can wait.”

“We should make sure it’s not permanently damaged before you do anything else.”

She half turned her face towards him. At any other time, he might have looked away, embarrassed to be so close to her face, but with stained and matted hair, scrapes and bruises and a tired limp, she had no womanly charms at the moment. “It’s waited for over 50 hours. I think it can wait one more,” she said without humor.

He wanted to roll his eyes, but didn’t. “We’ll take you around back so that you can slip in and wash.

“And that thing?” her eyes pointed briefly to Kem, laboring with the darkspider head behind them.

“What about it?”

“I want it kept safe.”

Poll grimaced skeptically. “Safe from what? I doubt anyone’s going to take it. You still haven’t told me why you dragged that thing all the way here. Especially limping as you are.”

“I made a deal with your dad. I…intend for him to honor it.”

“A deal? What kind of deal?” Poll felt a little disgusted hearing of things going on behind his back. His annoyance abated slightly as he saw Marl’s face dim. She actually looked guilty. He sighed. “Alright. I don’t get what’s going on, but I’ll watch it for you.”

“You shouldn’t… I…” she lost her words, then gave up. “Yeah. Fine. Thank you.” She paused and Poll focused on matching her pace as they made their way to Poll’s house. Eric and Egan normally would have parted ways by now, but they led on, as if they were some sort of honor guard. Poll laughed internally. They probably wanted to see what was going on just as much as he did.

“I’m sorry,” Marl said quietly.

“What?” Poll wasn’t sure he heard her clearly.

“For making you be the one keeping it safe. I… I’m sorry.”

Poll puzzled at this but shook his head. “I volunteered. It’s fine. Besides, I really don’t think anyone’s going to take it.”



Marl’s breath left her in ragged, painful breaths as she slipped into the bath. The hot water seemed to tear at each little scrape on her body and she had to lift herself out to escape the pain and then in again three times before reaching the bottom of the tub. Finally down, she relaxed and felt the heat loosen her back with sensations she couldn’t tell was pain or pleasure.

And she cried. She lay in the bathtub, tears streaming down her face and she silently sobbed. It wasn’t the pain. The pain was normal to her after the long road back to this village. She shut her eyes tightly and tried to understand her tears.

She had awoken face down in a tangle of foliage and vines. Beneath a layer of bush was hard ground. Her body had ached and she had coughed violently, something in her chest poking her every time she inhaled. The pain had been excruciating and for a time after she awoke, she had simply laid there, finding a way to breath without the pain wracking her body. After what must have been hours, she rolled herself over, gingerly pushing herself up. The viscous goop that covered the bushes she was laying in was scattered about, and she realized she was also covered in it. In those moments, she hadn’t believed she was alive. At first she didn’t see the darkspider, but after some looking it was a few meters away, unmoving.

Upon inspecting the branch that spanned 10 meters above her, her best guess as to why she survived was that she and the darkspider must have fallen together, but somehow she had ended up above it so that the creature’s body broke her fall initially, at which point she had lost consciousness. They must have fallen off the branch at that point, their bodies separating, her landing face down in the bushes and the darkspider’s corpse a short ways away. Twenty paces from her was another cliff, dropping off untold miles into the world below. In any case, it was a miracle she was alive.

In her broken and battered state, it had taken hours to make camp, find food, rest and heal. She only slept once and after waking decided she would take a part of the darkspider and find her way back to Killigan. She had not expected to die on this journey—or come close to dying—even though she knew it would be dangerous, but after a fashion, she had achieved her objective. She might as well take the sky-damned thing home. From her campfire she had eyed the hazy black corpse with rueful victory.

When it came time for her to cut up the darkspider, she had revolted. She stepped closer to the thing, each step standing for full minutes before coming closer. She knew the thing was dead, but her mind rebelled at coming near as if it kept thinking, what if it’s not? Finally steeling herself enough to stand near it, she examined it more closely. With sudden strange curiosity she noticed the black haze was significantly weaker. It was as if the 12 to 20 hours since life had left the creature, the light-eating properties of its flesh had slowly weakened, and was weakening still. The creature was actually not black, either—it was gray. She could see its main body, and it was covered in hair—no, as she got closer, she saw that they were soft rubbery spines that looked like hair from any distance farther than a meter but were clearly thicker and tangible once close. At first the body looked simply like a lump, the long tentacle arms seeming to merely peel off the body like an orange. As Marl walked around the thing, wincing with each step on her clearly sprained and bruised leg, she saw features on its otherwise globular body, spaces where the spine-hair grew short and then disappeared, the skin beneath wrinkling into ridges and then, carefully lifting a stray tentacle, she saw orifices, though she didn’t know what their particular purpose was. Reasoning that this section of the body must be the head, she took her knife and with a grimace, began cutting along an area that might count as its neck, though her guess was as good as anyone else’s who’d ever seen one of these things up close. The yellowish oozy fluid spilled out onto her, but she was already more or less covered in it. She threw up once while cutting the skin clear away from the body, and then again when she had to separate the gut tracts within, reaching her arm deep into the beast and sawing frantically with her knife, begging it to come free and end this trial.

And, after binding the head and fastening it to straps, eventually she began her long, painful, triumphant, regretful, grim journey back to Killigan. She never found her rifle, but her pack had made the fall with her. She had her knife, her canteen, her compass, and altimeter. That was the minimum she needed for survival. It had taken her ages to find her way back to the road, but her tools had proven themselves well and she found the Treyon-Killigan highway approximately 30 hours after breaking camp, having slept twice in that time. 20 hours or so after that, she had arrived at the Lake outside the village, where she had met, of all people, Poll.

As she sobbed, she realized why. She had died. She had faced death as she dealt death, far from civilization, and had plummeted to her death where no one would ever find her. And she hadn’t cared. Grim determination to get back to Killigan kept her from thinking about much until now, but sitting in a hot bath—how on earth could they have hot water so quickly, by the way—she felt luxury that was leagues away from everything she had not bargained on experiencing when she had spoken so rashly to the village Ombud. What was she thinking? She was a single girl—woman—in an unforgiving world, and she thought she could take on a beast that the hardest hunters speak fearfully of. Moreover, she hadn’t cared. She hadn’t cared that she was dying. What the sky hell was that? Who was she? What was she? What did she want? What mattered, and why is she here? Thinking back, she realized she didn’t really have a thought as to what came after she was free. She had been nothing more than a child screaming against the world, and it had nearly cost her life.

Eventually her tears stopped and she breathed deeply in the bath. It really was a luxurious bath. If she stayed in Killigan, could she have a bath like this? It was a nice thought.

Eventually she cleaned herself, washed her hair (twice), and in the process, perhaps figured out what to do next.



Marl, Poll, Fergus, and Poll’s mother Helga occupied the sitting room. Marl’s hair had returned to its natural red color—still voluptuously wavy, if a bit frayed and dry now. Helga stood with her arms crossed, her deeply concerned face almost matching her husband’s stern dour one. Marl and Poll sat in individual armchairs facing the couch that Fergus occupied the center of. Eric and Egan had wanted to attend as well, but at a glare from Fergus they had politely excused themselves. Kem had gone home to wash his back but had returned. And so Poll had no doubt that all three of them were listening outside the window. When Marl exited the bath and dressed in fresh clothes that Helga had provided, she had had the boys—Egan and Poll, this time, put the head on a tarp and carry it into the sitting room, where it now sat in the center of the room.

The silence drew out as Fergus and Marl stared at each other. Poll wondered what was happening between Marl and his father, but waited patiently.

Helga was less patient. “Well? Will one of you tell me why there is a…thing on my floor? What is it, anyway? The thing is ghastly.”

“It’s a darkspider. Well, part of one,” Marl said.

“Part of… sky above, child, where did you get it?”

“I killed it,” Marl said confidently, still staring down Fergus.

Helga took a deep breath, her eyes full of concern. She then turned on her husband angrily. “Well, Fergus? I can tell you had something to do with this. I won’t hear that you put a woman up to hunting monsters.”

“Of course not!” he answered abruptly but to Poll he looked extremely uncomfortable. “She… we… had a misunderstanding. She may have taken things out of context.”

Marl’s eyebrows rose high above her head. “Excuse me?! We had a deal. I won’t let you get away without explaining it.”

“It was nonsense! You opposed the…arrangement and I said there’s no way, that it stands.”

“And it’d be another story if I was suddenly a man,” Marl shot back sarcastically.

Fergus gestured wildly at her bulging chest. “You are obviously not a man. You never will be.”

Marl leaned back, grim. “But you’ll accept me as one. That was our deal.”

Fergus shook his head. “It is ludicrous. Any simpleton could tell that was a joke. You are not, nor will ever be a man. That will not change no matter how many carcasses you bring into my living room. This is obscene, by the way, you shouldn’t have brought it in.”

Poll listened to this exchange with growing consternation. He turned to Marl, who was trembling with anger at his father. She then noticed him looking at her and turned away, embarrassed at his glance. The room stood in silence until Marl sighed and faced Poll.

“Your father said that the only way we’d call the wedding off is if I was suddenly became a man.” Poll let the statement process, the silence stretching while Marl went on, “and I got him to agree that if I killed the darkspider that the hunters rumored about seeing lately, he would accept me as a man.”

“Which is idiotic. It was a joke,” Fergus supplied. “She’s nothing but a woman.”

Poll looked into Marl’s eyes and she looked back into his, ignoring Fergus but still obviously uncomfortable.

Poll finally nodded. The fact that Marl didn’t want to marry him was a surprise to him, but he didn’t blame her. Nor did he blame her for going to his father to get out of it. He was the one who arranged it, after all.

“Well dad,” Poll said, resigned, “she did kill a darkspider.”

Fergus drew back defensively and sought for words. “How do we even know if that’s what this is? This could be a chunk of any fell beast in the deep woods for all we know.”

Helga smacked him. “You don’t get out of this that easily. I’ve never seen any darkspider, but that things creepy enough to be one, sure as light. Girl comes in here all battered and bruised and you have the gall to doubt her? You be quiet now Fergus, I’ll handle this now. In fact, both you and Poll go buy some carrots for dinner.”

“I can handle my own affairs, woman!” Fergus said sternly.

“Clearly not when young women are involved. Carrots, now. You too, Poll.”

Fergus flustered. “Carrots?! What kind of dinner…is carrots?”

“It’s not just carrots, Fergus,” she said in a condescending tone, “we’ve plenty of meat right here.”

The three other faces in the room turned to her in disgust. Poll heard coughing outside.

“You’re not serious,” Fergus said, horrified.

“Aye, Fergus, you don’t know what I feed you half the time anyway, it’s no difference is it to you, believe me. There’s not any other beast in these woods I haven’t cooked before and there’s no beast can’t be eaten with the right spice. Now go. Fetch. Me. Carrots.”

Fergus rose. “Poll, you take that thing outside and get rid of it. Throw it down the canopy. I will go fetch carrots and pork for supper. I won’t hear another word of this.”

Poll, readily agreeing, hurriedly wrapped up the head and followed his father, dragging the tarp out the door and shutting it behind him.




When the men were gone Helga went to the armchair Poll had been sitting in, turned it around to face Marl, and sat. Marl breathed slowly and looked up at the woman.

“Are you alright, dear?” Helga asked.

“Uh…yes. Yes, I’m fine. I’m just…” Marl twisted and swallowed. “I think I already tasted some of that thing in the woods. I don’t think it would have been good for dinner.”

Helga’s eyebrows rose and she suddenly barked out laughing. “Heavens dear, I wouldn’t have touched that thing if a man gave me a gold necklace.”

“Oh. Me neither, I think. Except I already did.”

Helga chuckled and shook her head at Marl. “Really dear, are you ok? I saw you limping earlier. I imagine nothing’s broken or you wouldn’t have made it back here, but how can I help?”

“I…” Marl teared up. She hadn’t expected this kindness. “I’m fine. I probably just need to rest and heal for a while.” Once the tears started they wouldn’t stop again, and her tears fell into her lap.

Helga came forward and hugged her. Marl sank into the embrace. Helga smelled earthy, like part of the forest. Marl’s own mother had never been this comforting—well intentioned maybe, but Helga had a motherly wisdom that Marl deeply appreciated right then.

Her tears stopped and Helga lifted her up.

“Now, what do you want to do? I know Fergus made you this deal, and if that’s what you want, that’s how it’ll be. You can go home, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

Marl thought of going home and trying to explain this. She really didn’t like the idea. She shook her head. “The marriage was political. I can’t just go home.” Helga frowned and opened her mouth but Marl shook her head. “I made a decision in the bath. I didn’t know how to bring it up though.”

“Ok, let’s hear it.”

“I’ll… I’ll go through with the marriage.”

Helga cocked her head. “Dear, you don’t need to worry about a thing when it comes to our villages tying a knot. The marriage is as marriages always are. It’s not like we’re going to fight each other to the death over one lass deciding she doesn’t want to play ball.”

“No, I know. It’s not that. It’s just… it’s ok.”

Helga leaned back, scowling. “You go traipsing in the jungle hunting a deadly beast, nearly get yourself killed by the looks of it, all to avoid marrying a boy, then come back and say ‘oh well, I guess it’s not so bad a deal’ and marry him anyway?”

Marl laughed. “I guess so, yeah.”

“Marl.” Marl looked up at Helga. “If you’re going to be my daughter, then I don’t want you telling tall tales to yourself, much less anyone else.”

Marl smiled. “Thank you. No, really, it’s not like that. It’s just… in the woods, I almost died. I gave up. And it changed me. I don’t understand everything of what I want, but I know that marriage doesn’t have to limit me. Which brings me to the other part of my decision.”

Helga smirked and nodded, bidding her to continue.

“My role in the village isn’t decided yet.”

Helga hesitated. “Around these parts women only have one role.”

“I know. But if I extract anything out of Fergus for the chase he sent me on, I’ll get this. I will marry your son. But I will not be a housewife.”

Helga nodded slowly. “Very well. What will you be?”

“A hunter.”

[Momogari]

I welcome critique.

[unoduetre]

I will provide it after I read it.

[Channy]

[mention=6444]Momogari[/mention]

What kind of critique are you looking for? Anything in particular?

[Momogari]

No, nothing in particular. There is no critique that would be unappreciated, and I have no ego to harm. You can do anything you actually want with it.