Hunters

A standalone fragment from the Northsong Cycle (second epoch)

Sciito finally caught up, and recovered his breath, when Prowler crouched behind a snow drift as big as a hillock. The giant was still half-again Sciito’s height, or his sister’s.

Prowler sneered. The expression twisted his face to look like a bear-cat leering at its kill. “Time to prove your worth, young ones. I will wait here.”

Gwae snickered. “You might as well wait here with the lion-man, Squeaker.” She brushed betwixt Sciito and Prowler and bounded over the drift, spear in hand.

Sciito swallowed bitter words. What’s the point? He hobbled around the mound of snow and rock, deftly testing lesser drifts with his spear-butt.

I reckon I will hear its death cries afore I lay eyes on it—whatever creature Prowler has us stalking. But Gwae stood frozen near the base of the snow-hillock. She rested her spear across her shoulders and peered up at a shaggy mammoth-beast, which loomed over them from several dozen paces off.

Sciito shuffled to her side, keeping his good eye clear of her spear-point. He, too, stared up at the tusked behemoth, as best he could. His back and neck complained at the effort, but the sight was worth the pain.

“I must slay this beast,” his sister breathed.

“No,” Sciito countered sharply afore he knew what he was saying. “I must ride it.”