The snow is as bad as he can ever remember it. Thicker than he can ever remember anything being.
It didn’t matter how thick it was though, he had to get through to Benstilen, the village that was just a few miles to the
south of his own little village of Evans.
It was only his third time doing this sort of trip, going to get a doctor from Benstilen. The first time had been when
his wife was having their first child; the second was after an accident happened to a small girl who fell in the well in
town. The other village was much bigger, and had the only doctor within a hundred miles. Evans needed a doctor
bad, and Trody was going to get him.
The attacks had started a week ago. They were terrible, bloody affairs, the villagers said. Trody had never wanted
to see the remains once they were discovered. He hated the sight of death in a new sun. It had started with various
animals, chickens, a pig, and finally, a horse. It was rare for any of the local creatures, be it wolf or bear to attack a
horse, let alone succeed in killing it.
Two days ago, a hunter had disappeared. The man had gone out into the woods near the outskirts of the village,
hoping to find the bear that everyone assumed was doing the damage.
They all had heard the screams, but no one did anything, no one ran to see what was happening in the near by
woods. Finally, Trody arrived on the south end of the village, and was sat upon by the various gawker.
He carried a small deer over his shoulder, blood covering his hands and chest, but no one minded. They were
used to Trody, the great hunter coming back in such a state.
They quickly informed him of the other hunter, the one that Trody had always dislkiked. The man was always quick
to run at his mouth, but slow to actually do any real hunting. Trody often thought that if a creature didn’t run into a
trap set by the man, he would have never caught anything.
It only took Trody a few minutes to find the remains, which was just a large stretch of red snow, that seemed to go
on forever before disappearing into the woods.
There was no talk of sending a search party after the man. Everyone knew there was no point.
The loud moth was only the first victim. Less than a week later, a farmer was taken. His wife rushing outside at the
sound of their barking dogs, only to find her husband mutilated, missing an arm and a leg, both of which, everyone
guessed, had been eaten.
Trody made a show of searching for them, but he knew they would never be found. As he walked past the dogs, he
remembered how much he hated the way they barked all the time, robbing him of his sleep.
Whispers circulated around the town, what could do this? What could kill a man, and leave no tracks? Even with
the new snow they had during this time of year, tracks, at least blood trails, should remain. Something enough for
the Great Trody to use.
It was the third attack that finally sent Trody into the woods and snow banks beyond, to begin the hunt. This time, it
was a woman, one that Trody had known since she was a baby. At one point, he even thought he may have loved
her. She was working on a blanket, trying to clean dust off of it, but too close to the forest.
They had found nothing this time. Not even blood.
Trody stopped his mind’s wandering as something appeared in the snow ahead of him. Two red eyes, low to the
ground but moving quickly. He froze in place, trying to get an idea of how far the thing was. The snow, something
like a cold and moving fog bank, was making it impossible to guess the distance.
Slowly he lowered himself to one knee, the snow stinging in his face and eyes. In a smooth motion he pulled his rifle
from his side, and put it against his shoulder. His left hand, gloved but still very cold, cleaned off the snow from the
hammer. He wanted to make sure once he made a sound, and alerted the creature to his presence that a bullet
was soon to follow.
The eyes drew closer, stopping at times, moving fast at others. When it was within maybe ten feet, but still invisible,
Trody gently lined up his site, and pulled the trigger.
An empty click, like the sound of a hammer hitting a nail, was the only noise that emerged from his rifle. Trody
sighed every so slightly, as the eyes fixed on him.
Just as quickly, they moved to his right. Rushing past him, now seeming to bounce as they did. As his eyes
adjusted just a bit, Trody made out the high red tail of a fox, as it escaped into the night.
A small laugh escaped Trody, and he wished his little friend much happy rabbit hunting in the bad weather.
Bears were spotted this time of year, but not regularly. That was why the village had such a hard time believing one
would come out of hibernation and attack people. But then again, there was no accounting for nature sometimes.
Settling back into the camoflague he had created out of loose snow and forest refuse, he thought back to the words
of the woman’s husband.
“Find her please, kill whatever did this, bring her home for a decent burial,” the unsaid words were what annoyed
him most. The man didn’t mention that he beat his wife, that he was so drunk he never heard her be taken. A man
like that, didn’t deserve the woman he had.
Something large caught Trody’s attention in the distance. A sound, like a boulder falling to the ground from a high
rock face, echoed in the snow. It was impossible to tell which way it came from. He lowered himself to the ground
again, thinking that if the bear came towards him, he would have plenty of warning just by the fresh snow crunching
beneath it.
This time he took a few moments to check his rifle, surprised at himself for not doing it before. Everything seemed
fine, and it should work. Just to be careful though, he pulled his hunting knife out of his boot. It was old, and in the
bit of light he had, it seemed rustier than he remembered it being. He really should clean it more often.
A silly thought, one that was distracting him from his own danger. He snapped the knife back in his boot, and
listened carefully again.
There was something moving alright, but just out of his range of vision. He knew he was near the mountains and
hills, so there could be many caves for the bear to be hiding in. But of course, he couldn’t see anything. The only
thing he could do was listen, but even that was proving hard.
The wind was picking up, creating a whistling in his ears that was confusing his sense. In addition his ears were
freezing, and starting to ache. Whatever might be out there, just beyond his site and possibly hearing, better be
slow moving, or he wouldn’t stand a chance.
He had been tracking this bear for three days, only returning home once. Arriving in the village just after the attack
that had now sent him searching for a doctor. It was his wife. Mangled so badly, the town didn’t even recognize
her.
She was unconscious when he left, unable to describe what had happened, thankfully. He left her in good hands,
knowing full well she would never wake up again, no matter how hard he hurried to the doctor.
That had been almost a day ago, and he knew she would be dead by now.
Other men had said they would go, but Trody said no. It was his burden, his mission. He asked the men to fix his
home, the door the bear had ripped off, the things it has smashed. He asked them to see for his children, who had
been at her mother’s cabin that night.
He told the men to spread out, to protect the village from anything that might come. To take his post in the watch
tower, he would handle this personal business, they should protect the village.
Protect the village at all costs.
Trody had a job to do, he was going to find a bear.
In the distance the sound returned. This time lighter, as if the boulder that had fallen had rolled on its side. More
noises followed, whatever was there was growing closer.
Trody raised his rifle again, but this time he stood straight up. A bear would be tall enough that he could fire into it
from that height, especially if it lunged. Besides, he needed to keep his legs ready to move, ready to pivot.
The red eyes appeared again, this time it was no fox, far too tall for that. Trody caught them out of the corner of his
eye. He turned and focused in on them, smiling as he took aim. There was no fear in him, there never was. Just
excitement, and eagerness for the kill.
When the bear finally appeared from the flurry, it was smaller than Trody had hoped it would be. What was worse,
was that when it saw him, its eyes didn’t glow red and full of hate like most animals Trody killed. Instead, it seemed
almost fearful.
Good, Trody thought.
A single shot ripped the night, breaking through the snow and fog. The bear, hit right between the eyes, fell to the
earth with a sad thud. A bit of a twitch from its paws, and then it was over.
Trody almost laughed, thinking how the victims suffered, not the bear, it went down cleanly with one shot.
Pulling out his knife, he realized now he hadn’t cleaned it properly at all from the last time, blood was still all over it.
Frozen now, far too cold in the exposed air like this.
The village was safe again. He would drag the bear back, and proclaim everything fine. His work was done.
One last task awaited him before he began the process though. He would cut the bear for warmth and use it for a
while to heat him, while the blood was still warm.
He liked being near the body when it was still warm. But the bodies of his hunt always cool too fast, and he has to
find more.
Winter was hard, because the bears hibernated, and it wasn’t easy to blame foxes and wolves for the new hunts he
liked.
Somewhere in the distance Trody heard a wolf howl. Smiling, he wondered if it had found one of the other hunts
Trody had left laying about the last few days. The arm and the leg of the man with the barking dogs, for instance.
He had left that out to feed anything that might come along.
Most of his prey was hidden well though, where no one, but a hunter such as himself, could find them.
Trody loved to hunt, and even more so how, hunting those problems in his life that walked on two legs.
Trody was a great hunter.
It didn’t matter how thick it was though, he had to get through to Benstilen, the village that was just a few miles to the
south of his own little village of Evans.
It was only his third time doing this sort of trip, going to get a doctor from Benstilen. The first time had been when
his wife was having their first child; the second was after an accident happened to a small girl who fell in the well in
town. The other village was much bigger, and had the only doctor within a hundred miles. Evans needed a doctor
bad, and Trody was going to get him.
The attacks had started a week ago. They were terrible, bloody affairs, the villagers said. Trody had never wanted
to see the remains once they were discovered. He hated the sight of death in a new sun. It had started with various
animals, chickens, a pig, and finally, a horse. It was rare for any of the local creatures, be it wolf or bear to attack a
horse, let alone succeed in killing it.
Two days ago, a hunter had disappeared. The man had gone out into the woods near the outskirts of the village,
hoping to find the bear that everyone assumed was doing the damage.
They all had heard the screams, but no one did anything, no one ran to see what was happening in the near by
woods. Finally, Trody arrived on the south end of the village, and was sat upon by the various gawker.
He carried a small deer over his shoulder, blood covering his hands and chest, but no one minded. They were
used to Trody, the great hunter coming back in such a state.
They quickly informed him of the other hunter, the one that Trody had always dislkiked. The man was always quick
to run at his mouth, but slow to actually do any real hunting. Trody often thought that if a creature didn’t run into a
trap set by the man, he would have never caught anything.
It only took Trody a few minutes to find the remains, which was just a large stretch of red snow, that seemed to go
on forever before disappearing into the woods.
There was no talk of sending a search party after the man. Everyone knew there was no point.
The loud moth was only the first victim. Less than a week later, a farmer was taken. His wife rushing outside at the
sound of their barking dogs, only to find her husband mutilated, missing an arm and a leg, both of which, everyone
guessed, had been eaten.
Trody made a show of searching for them, but he knew they would never be found. As he walked past the dogs, he
remembered how much he hated the way they barked all the time, robbing him of his sleep.
Whispers circulated around the town, what could do this? What could kill a man, and leave no tracks? Even with
the new snow they had during this time of year, tracks, at least blood trails, should remain. Something enough for
the Great Trody to use.
It was the third attack that finally sent Trody into the woods and snow banks beyond, to begin the hunt. This time, it
was a woman, one that Trody had known since she was a baby. At one point, he even thought he may have loved
her. She was working on a blanket, trying to clean dust off of it, but too close to the forest.
They had found nothing this time. Not even blood.
Trody stopped his mind’s wandering as something appeared in the snow ahead of him. Two red eyes, low to the
ground but moving quickly. He froze in place, trying to get an idea of how far the thing was. The snow, something
like a cold and moving fog bank, was making it impossible to guess the distance.
Slowly he lowered himself to one knee, the snow stinging in his face and eyes. In a smooth motion he pulled his rifle
from his side, and put it against his shoulder. His left hand, gloved but still very cold, cleaned off the snow from the
hammer. He wanted to make sure once he made a sound, and alerted the creature to his presence that a bullet
was soon to follow.
The eyes drew closer, stopping at times, moving fast at others. When it was within maybe ten feet, but still invisible,
Trody gently lined up his site, and pulled the trigger.
An empty click, like the sound of a hammer hitting a nail, was the only noise that emerged from his rifle. Trody
sighed every so slightly, as the eyes fixed on him.
Just as quickly, they moved to his right. Rushing past him, now seeming to bounce as they did. As his eyes
adjusted just a bit, Trody made out the high red tail of a fox, as it escaped into the night.
A small laugh escaped Trody, and he wished his little friend much happy rabbit hunting in the bad weather.
Bears were spotted this time of year, but not regularly. That was why the village had such a hard time believing one
would come out of hibernation and attack people. But then again, there was no accounting for nature sometimes.
Settling back into the camoflague he had created out of loose snow and forest refuse, he thought back to the words
of the woman’s husband.
“Find her please, kill whatever did this, bring her home for a decent burial,” the unsaid words were what annoyed
him most. The man didn’t mention that he beat his wife, that he was so drunk he never heard her be taken. A man
like that, didn’t deserve the woman he had.
Something large caught Trody’s attention in the distance. A sound, like a boulder falling to the ground from a high
rock face, echoed in the snow. It was impossible to tell which way it came from. He lowered himself to the ground
again, thinking that if the bear came towards him, he would have plenty of warning just by the fresh snow crunching
beneath it.
This time he took a few moments to check his rifle, surprised at himself for not doing it before. Everything seemed
fine, and it should work. Just to be careful though, he pulled his hunting knife out of his boot. It was old, and in the
bit of light he had, it seemed rustier than he remembered it being. He really should clean it more often.
A silly thought, one that was distracting him from his own danger. He snapped the knife back in his boot, and
listened carefully again.
There was something moving alright, but just out of his range of vision. He knew he was near the mountains and
hills, so there could be many caves for the bear to be hiding in. But of course, he couldn’t see anything. The only
thing he could do was listen, but even that was proving hard.
The wind was picking up, creating a whistling in his ears that was confusing his sense. In addition his ears were
freezing, and starting to ache. Whatever might be out there, just beyond his site and possibly hearing, better be
slow moving, or he wouldn’t stand a chance.
He had been tracking this bear for three days, only returning home once. Arriving in the village just after the attack
that had now sent him searching for a doctor. It was his wife. Mangled so badly, the town didn’t even recognize
her.
She was unconscious when he left, unable to describe what had happened, thankfully. He left her in good hands,
knowing full well she would never wake up again, no matter how hard he hurried to the doctor.
That had been almost a day ago, and he knew she would be dead by now.
Other men had said they would go, but Trody said no. It was his burden, his mission. He asked the men to fix his
home, the door the bear had ripped off, the things it has smashed. He asked them to see for his children, who had
been at her mother’s cabin that night.
He told the men to spread out, to protect the village from anything that might come. To take his post in the watch
tower, he would handle this personal business, they should protect the village.
Protect the village at all costs.
Trody had a job to do, he was going to find a bear.
In the distance the sound returned. This time lighter, as if the boulder that had fallen had rolled on its side. More
noises followed, whatever was there was growing closer.
Trody raised his rifle again, but this time he stood straight up. A bear would be tall enough that he could fire into it
from that height, especially if it lunged. Besides, he needed to keep his legs ready to move, ready to pivot.
The red eyes appeared again, this time it was no fox, far too tall for that. Trody caught them out of the corner of his
eye. He turned and focused in on them, smiling as he took aim. There was no fear in him, there never was. Just
excitement, and eagerness for the kill.
When the bear finally appeared from the flurry, it was smaller than Trody had hoped it would be. What was worse,
was that when it saw him, its eyes didn’t glow red and full of hate like most animals Trody killed. Instead, it seemed
almost fearful.
Good, Trody thought.
A single shot ripped the night, breaking through the snow and fog. The bear, hit right between the eyes, fell to the
earth with a sad thud. A bit of a twitch from its paws, and then it was over.
Trody almost laughed, thinking how the victims suffered, not the bear, it went down cleanly with one shot.
Pulling out his knife, he realized now he hadn’t cleaned it properly at all from the last time, blood was still all over it.
Frozen now, far too cold in the exposed air like this.
The village was safe again. He would drag the bear back, and proclaim everything fine. His work was done.
One last task awaited him before he began the process though. He would cut the bear for warmth and use it for a
while to heat him, while the blood was still warm.
He liked being near the body when it was still warm. But the bodies of his hunt always cool too fast, and he has to
find more.
Winter was hard, because the bears hibernated, and it wasn’t easy to blame foxes and wolves for the new hunts he
liked.
Somewhere in the distance Trody heard a wolf howl. Smiling, he wondered if it had found one of the other hunts
Trody had left laying about the last few days. The arm and the leg of the man with the barking dogs, for instance.
He had left that out to feed anything that might come along.
Most of his prey was hidden well though, where no one, but a hunter such as himself, could find them.
Trody loved to hunt, and even more so how, hunting those problems in his life that walked on two legs.
Trody was a great hunter.
Trody's Journey - by LL Adams
