His face a grim mask of determination, the hunter strode through the blizzard, seeking any signs of his quarry. His long white hair fluttered wildly in the storm, and his piercing silver and blue eyes darted about energetically. He wore a striking blue cloak around his shoulders, tufted with white fur for warmth, and two swords hung at his sides. A long bow poked over his right shoulder. His snow white face was sharp and handsome, with two long pointed ears raised for any sudden noises.
Kendrin was his name, and he was one of the last of the Highborne, the people of the Tar. He was a master of blade and bow, but he used his skills humbly, content to hunt the threats that mortals were helpless to defend against- for a bounty, of course.
He stopped suddenly, his eyes trained on a bloody footprint in the snow. He knelt slowly and gracefully, reaching out to dab at the blood with two fingers. He sniffed at it tentatively. Wendigo.
Somewhere far ahead a great howling arose. The hunter looked up, pausing for just a moment before dashing off through the snow. His prey was close, and the scent was fresh. The time had come to purge the world of this foul beast.
For several minutes Kendrin trekked through the tundra, following the creature’s bloody footprints. Out of the snow a distant light appeared, and soon with it the shape of a house. As he got closer, he realized that the light came from a single lamp that burned in a sconce on the side of the cabin. He slowed to a cautious walk as he approached the place, warily scanning his surroundings. The cottage seemed to sit on the border of a great forest, dark and grey with snow. The bloody footprints led to the cottage door. It was cracked open.
Kendrin reached to his sides and drew his swords. They gleamed eagerly. He took one deep breath, and then kicked the door open.
Inside he was met with a grisly scene. Almost everything in the cottage was torn, tattered, and covered with blood. Three bodies were piled in the center of the room. But that was not the worst of it. Over the bodies feasted a creature of nightmares, the beast the hunter had hunted for the past month. Blood sprayed from its mouth as it looked up.
It’s fur was white and matted with dirt and blood. It hung off the creature’s slender, aggressive frame, and the monster’s ribs showed against its chest. A foxish tail waved methodically in the air behind the beast, and it glared at the hunter with sickly, glowing yellow eyes. It’s face was wolf like in appearance, yet somehow disturbingly human. Wendigos were created by dark, angry magic, a curse that infected those left helpless in the northern wilds. Kendrin had been informed that this creature had once been just a frontiersman, struggling to make his way in a harsh world. Then bandits struck, burning down the man’s house and leaving him homeless. He had not made it through the night unchanged.
Kendrin readied himself for an attack. A less experienced hunter might have taunted the tragic thing or tried to reason with it. Kendrin knew that there was no point in either.
The creature laughed, a vile, abyssal sound that sent an involuntary shiver down its enemies spine. “I… will feed… more…” The beast managed to growl. “More.” It grinned and crouched low, preparing to spring. Kendrin dove to the ground just in time to avoid its attack. The Wendigo launched itself over his crouched body, tumbling through the open doorway. The hunter rose, sprinting to where it lay. The creature was up in a flash, and before Kendrin could react it’s claws were scything towards his face.
He parried the attack with his right blade and slashed into the Wendigo’s flank with his left. It screeched and clutched at the wound, and he took that opportunity to thrust his parrying blade into its chest. He spun and sliced at the Wendigo’s head, but it was too quick. It ducked under his blade and pulled itself along the other sword and closer to the hunter. It gnashed its teeth hungrily.
With a shout the hunter pulled his blade free, showering the snow in blood. It poured from the creature’s wound and its mouth, and the monster clutched its torso in shock. Kendrin sheathed his swords, aware that the wound was fatal.
He reached for his bow. “Please,” Croaked the monster. Kendrin selected a silver arrow from his quiver, and in one merciful shot released the beast from its hell.
. . .
With three loud knocks the gatewarden started awake. “What time is it?” He wondered groggily. He sat up, wiping drool from his lip.
“Who goes there?” He shouted warily. He slid the door panel back and peered through. When he saw who it was, he instantly sat up straighter.
“Bountyman,” he said anxiously. “I dare say it’s been quite a while since we’ve seen you!”
“Never fear.” Said Kendrin with a nod of his head. “I always return.”
The gateman smiled. “And for that we are grateful.” He swung open the door and ushered Kendrin in.
The hunter walked briskly down the long, desolate street. The village of Ferryworth was larger than most of its cousins, but still small enough not to get lost in. It was a tiny oasis in a sea of danger: the wilds were all that surrounded it for tens of miles. It kept a low profile from the Capital. It was simply not an important place. Farmhouses made up the majority of the town, but a few shops and an inn broke up the sight of thatched buildings.
Kendrin knew his destination well, for he had been here many times for this exact purpose. He turned right when he reached the end of the long road, passing the mayor’s house. He made for the jailhouse. Several lamps hung from its facade, and a brightly lit counter stood out in the night.
“Evening.” Said the lone guard as Kendrin approached. He was reading a book and did not look up. In a room behind him Kendrin could hear the merry sound of gambling guards. “If you have a complaint to file, the leaflets-” He looked up and gasped. Kendrin’s blade was less than two inches from his throat. He dropped his book and sat up.
“Bountyman!” He said, his voice tense. “I am very sorry. If I’d have known it was you-”
“Don’t be, Wiccam.” Said the bounty hunter. “Sorry gets you nothing but death. And if I was someone less friendly to this little town of yours, you’d be dead right now.” He lowered the sword.
Wiccam gulped. “Of course.” He paused awkwardly, struggling to regain his composure.
“I am here on business, as usual.” Kendrin said when the other man failed to ask.
“Ah, have you taken care of the wolves that have been eating our sheep this month?” Said Wiccam with a smile. He reached for a small bag of gold.
“No,” Said Kendrin, stopping him in his tracks. “It is something far more deadly.” He reached behind him, and with one heavy swing he placed the Wendigo’s head on the counter. No flies buzzed around it- nothing would gorge on a thing so foul.
Wiccam recoiled in shock. “The Wendigo,” He spluttered in shock. “That monster had terrorized us for more than a year! You have done a great service to this town, bountyman!”
Kendrin smiled politely. “It was nothing. But I do have a price…”
“Ah, yes, of course!” Said the guard. He rummaged beneath a desk and removed a sack of gold so heavy as to make it hard to carry. “Will this suffice?”
“It is more than enough.” Said Kendrin. “That has to be quite a lot of money, for this village, wouldn’t you say?”
Wiccam smiled sadly. “It is most of what we have. But we must reward you somehow for saving us from that vile creature!”
“Keep half of it.” Said the hunter. “No man needs so much gold, but Ferryworth does. Just have my half delivered to my room before first light.”
Wiccam opened his mouth, speechless. “Thank you, hunter! Time and again you bring us favor. I must get the others! Then you can tell us how you killed the beast! Wait here!”
Wiccam dashed to the back room where his fellow guards sat. “Come quickly, lads! The bountyman is here, and you will never believe what he has brought with him!”
With a scrape of chairs all of the men stood up, Jostling to get to the counter. Wiccam hurried back out front.
“So how did you do it…” He started to say. The confused men looked around. The hunter was gone.
