The trio of Ion, Sax, and Char had pitched a tent to protect themselves from the relentless desert sun. The hunters sat in a loose circle, resting beneath the tent's canopy as they reclined on rugs and cushions. Laughter rippled through the group as they recalled stories of their most outlandish exploits.

  As the chatter lulled, Suio propped his head on one hand, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. He cast a glance at Lak. "Your turn, Lak," he drawled. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he added, "Dazzle us with one of your legendary hunts—I could use a good nap."

  Lak stared blankly, his expression calm and unaffected. "They're all the same," he began, his voice low and measured. "Find the trail of an animal—broken branches, tracks, or droppings—then follow it, studying its movements and patterns. Once you’ve picked a good spot for the hunt, preferably along its path, report back." He paused, considering whether to add more, then closed his eyes. "It’s always the same routine. Nothing exciting."

  Suio gave an exaggerated snort and jolted upright. "Oh, huh," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Already over? I wasn’t even deep in."

  Puty cleared his throat sharply, fixing Suio with a pointed glare. "Enough."

  Suio raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. As an apology, I'll regale you all with an account of my first hunt."

  Reclining once more with a mischievous grin, he began. "It was three cycles ago, back when Ion and Char were small, happy children," he said, nodding toward them. "I was sent into the forest with nothing and told I couldn't return until I’d hunted and brought back a beast."

  His arms moved animatedly, painting the scene in the air. "There I was—no food, no weapon... nothing! But did I panic? Of course not. I smiled and foraged through the forest until I found a long, dry branch. Then, I journeyed to the river in search of a sharp stone, and after finding it, used it to whittle the branch into a spear."

  Lak, who had been quietly observing, interrupted, "Then you tracked down a lone erythrokeros left behind by its herd," he said, finger tapping a brisk rhythm on his thigh. "Apart from tracking down the beast faster, everything was the same as the rest of us... nothing exciting."

  Suio bristled up as a wave of laughter erupted around the group. Ion quietly observed the hunters' interactions with one another, a slight smile on his face. His gaze drifted to the Hunt Master, who lay reclined on a fur rug, his expression calm and unreadable. Adjusting his position on a cushion, Ion momentarily hesitated before speaking, his voice cutting through the chatter. "What about you, Hunt Master? Do you have any tales to share?"

  The Hunt Master's eyes slowly opened. "Tales?" he repeated.

  Ion swallowed under the growing quiet, acutely aware of the hunters' collective focus. "Perhaps... your first hunt?"

  The Hunt Master let the silence stretch, his gaze fixed on Ion. Then, without warning, he sat upright and turned to face him fully. "I don't tell tales. I tell history."

  Puty chortled, his cheeks puffing as his head dipped. "What an embarrassing thing to say."

  A gruff chuckle came from the tent’s entrance. The Hunt Master’s gaze shifted right, past the flapping tent cloth, settling on Hutu’s hunched frame. His broad shoulders shook with laughter, clearly at the Hunt Master's expense.

  "What are you laughing at?" the Hunt Master exclaimed, his eyes narrowing as they flitted between Puty and Hutu. "It's your history too." He shook his head, then turned back to Ion. "Anyway, this was long before you were born—about twenty cycles ago." His gaze swept the circle, his expression distant. "Apart from Hutu and that old man Puty, none of you were even alive."

  "Tradition was the same back then," the Hunt Master said, scratching his chin thoughtfully, his words painting a vivid picture. "Well... with one key difference. Unlike now, when you're left to wander and track prey near or far from the cave, back then, the prospective hunter was put to sleep and carried deep into a part of the forest they'd never seen before. If they managed to kill an animal, navigate the forest, and make their way back, they were deemed ready to join the hunters."

  His eyes grew sharp, and his hands clenched into fists. "Many of our people died that way, and it’s because of those losses that we face the struggles we do now."

  Ion's breath hooked. His tongue licked his dry lips. He could barely imagine the horror he would have felt, experiencing such a horror.

  For a moment, all was silent. The air hung heavy as the Hunt Master steadied himself. "No matter," he said finally, his voice calmer. "Hutu and I were the same age and took the test together. They put us to sleep and left us in some random location."

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  "When I woke up, I first saw Hutu, already awake and busy sharpening a branch into a spear. He must have been up for some time—he'd even scouted the area."

  The Hunt Master straightened his back before stroking his beard with a slight smile curving his lips. "I didn’t want to intrude on the sanctity of his hunt, so I chose to part ways and begin preparations for mine."

  Puty raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Hah, you left because you didn’t like him. You know as well as I that your relationship back then wasn’t as good as it is now. Some historyteller you are, twisting it to suit you."

  "We were left in a rocky area with far fewer trees than usual," the Hunt Master continued, ignoring Puty's words. "So, like Hutu, I crept through the underbrush, searching for fallen branches."

  "It would’ve been easy to catch a small animal by setting a snare or digging a shallow pit. Technically, I’d have been made a hunter if I returned with such a creature since it didn’t break any rules—but it was unthinkable."

  He shook his head, a wry smile appearing on his face. "There was no written rule against it, but to return without pushing beyond your limits... it would’ve been shameful. Back then, a hunter's worth was measured by the difficulty of their hunt—by facing a challenge greater than what they were accustomed to."

  "A different period," Lak commented thoughtfully.

  "A harsher period," Puty corrected, his expression somber.

  "Indeed," the Hunt Master murmured, his gaze growing distant and unfocused, his tone dropping as he shifted through memories. "I’d chosen my prey long before."

  Fafon, previously silent, leaned forward. "What beast did you choose?" he inquired.

  The Hunt Master's focus snapped onto him, eyes boring into Fafon. "The same we just hunted," he answered, his voice disturbingly low yet resonating clearly through the tent. "An elafiotéras."

  Leaning back, the Hunt Master coughed before clearing his throat. He looked to the tent's roof and continued, “I’d heard the hunters talking among themselves—a scout had reported a sighting. He’d seen it during one of his expeditions through the forest.”

  “And, as a rash youth, our Hunt Master decided to go after it,” Puty interjected, shaking his head slightly. His gaze turned pointedly toward the Hunt Master. “What was going through your mind? Did you want tales of your heroics sung long after you’d joined the ancestors?”

  "I can't explain it myself," the Hunt Master confessed, his tone introspective. "You could be right, or maybe I wanted to stake my claim as the next Hunt Master." He shrugged lightly. "We'll never know for certain."

  Fafon studied him, his expression unreadable. "You've never mentioned this story before."

  The Hunt Master glanced at him before turning away, practically dismissing him. "I've never mentioned this history before," he sharply corrected. "And no, I haven’t—no one before Ion has ever thought to ask me about my first hunt."

  "Hunt Master, please stay on point," Puty quickly injected.

  "Yes," the Hunt Master acknowledged. "After crafting a spear and a few small knives, I scoured the surroundings carefully, searching for an animal I could follow to a stream. After finding one, I tracked it patiently, waiting for it to need a drink."

  "It didn’t happen immediately—the animal was cautious, so I had to remain still for long stretches," he continued. "But eventually, it led me to the Tachyroís River."

  "I climbed a tree and followed the river toward the location the hunters had mentioned," the Hunt Master said. "But I made a mistake before I found it. I got too excited and slipped off a branch."

  Puty sighed and shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

  The Hunt Master ignored him, continuing, "I tumbled from bough to bough before landing heavily on the ground."

  "Were you hurt?" Char asked, his eyes wide with attention.

  The Hunt Master shook his head. "Just a few bumps and bruises, nothing serious."

  "The ancestors favor you, Hunt Master," Lak remarked, his head lowered.

  "Yes, and since I didn’t want to lose our ancestors' favor," the Hunt Master replied. "I quickly got to my feet despite feeling quite embarrassed."

  "Then what happened?" Char asked, his voice rapt with curiosity.

  "Then..." The Hunt Master trailed off, his expression darkening, as though a shadow passed over his thoughts.

  The hunters shifted uneasily, weighted by his heavy pause. All eyes stayed fixed on him, waiting for the next words.

  But suddenly, the Hunt Master coughed, breaking the moment. He lightly touched his chest as he cleared his throat.

  Hutu growled from the entryway, his head turned toward the gathering.

  "Are you all right, Hunt Master?" Puty asked, his concern evident.

  "I'm fine," the Hunt Master said, straightening up. "The desert air's getting to me." He gave a rueful laugh and smiled slightly. "I must be getting old."

  Puty scoffed. "If you're old, what does that make me?"

  "A walking corpse," the Hunt Master shot back, drawing peals of booming laughter from the hunters.

  Once the laughter settled, the Hunt Master looked around before standing. "Well, just know I made it back—with a beast of an animal slung over my shoulders."

  He thrust his arms into the air, and thunderous cheers erupted, rolling out into the open air.

  The Hunt Master threw his head back and laughed uproariously. His gaze swept across the tent before landing on the quiet, withdrawn Sax. The sudden attention caused the man to shrink further into his shell. "Sax, bring the smoked elafiotéras," he commanded, then turned to the hunters with a booming cry. "We feast!"

  The men responded with a piercing roar, their excitement filling the space.

  While the hunters reveled in their merriment, one among them remained level-headed. His sharp gaze lingered on the tent’s entrance, where he noticed Hutu rise suddenly and slip outside without a word.

  SPLASH! Moments later, a loud splash echoed from beyond the tent.

  Yet none among the men noticed—save the watcher. He momentarily lingered, his mind tangled with conflicting thoughts, before slowly returning to the festivities, joining the hunters in their feast.