The Hunter of Hawk and Wolf

Crunch.

Sevha trudged through the Labyrinth Forest, where the snow lay deep. With every step, his boots sank, sapping his strength.

His face was a mask of irritation.

This damn snow fell days ago. Why won’t it melt?

The blizzard had swept through the County of Anse three days prior… which was the same day Sevha had hunted the Brown Queen.

The weather had warmed slightly since, but in the forest, the snow had barely thawed. The great trees, packed so densely they blotted out the sky, denied the sun its work.

Wish I could rest another day at the Hunter’s Rest Stop.

But patience was a virtue a Hunter of Anse was forced to learn. Grumbling to himself, Sevha pressed onward.

He didn’t stop when snow tumbled into his boots.

He didn’t give up when his hands went numb clearing a fallen tree from his path.

He didn’t rest when a cascade of snow rained down from above as he scrambled up a steep embankment.

“Whew…”

As Sevha reached the top of the hill, a white cloud of his own breath obscured his vision. When it dispersed, the sight he had longed to see finally came into view.

Beneath a brilliant blue sky lay a wide plain dotted with winter flowers. In its center, encircled by a double brick wall, stood Anse Castle. A flag hung from the outer gate, bearing the crest of the Dan Anse family: a hawk made of arrowheads.

The first time I’ve seen the sky in days…

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Sevha walked at a leisurely pace. As he drew near the castle, he heard the voices of children playing before the outer gate.

“Anse! I can no longer go to the world below, so you must go in my stead! Go and hunt the sinners!”

“Kee-eek!”

“What’s with the noise?”

“Anse is the Goddess Diaka’s hunting hawk, isn’t he? So he has to cry ‘Kee-eek’!”

“But Goddess Diaka turned Anse into a person, so he can… It’s Master Sevha!”

The children swarmed him the moment they spotted him.

“Master Sevha! Where have you been for three days?”

“The Labyrinth Forest? The Great Road? The Frost Mountains?”

“Play tag with us, like you promised!”

Before Sevha could answer, they were all clinging to him. The sudden movement made the wounds from his fight with the Brown Queen throb, and a groan escaped his lips.

The children pulled back at once, their faces etched with concern.

“Are you hurt?”

“We’re sorry.”

Seeing their crestfallen expressions, Sevha felt a pang of guilt.

But unwilling to comfort them openly, he demanded in a sharp voice, “What is the name of the standing army in the County of Anse?”

“The Hunters of Anse.”

“And who is their leader?”

“Master Sevha is the First Hunter.”

Sevha feigned a shout. “And you think someone like me could get hurt? Are you insulting my honor?”

But the children were just relieved he wasn’t in pain because of them.

Grinning, one of them shot back, “If you’re not hurt, then you can play tag, yeah?”

“What?”

“Or are you hurt?”

“No…”

“Master Sevha’s it! Run!”

Without waiting for a reply, the children scattered through the outer gate.

Sevha stared blankly after them, then muttered, “Damn it.”

With no other choice, he followed them into the castle town.

Losing sight of them in the crowd, he vaulted onto a fence, then leaped to the roof of a log cabin. The entire town spread out before him.

A wide road stretched from the outer gate to the inner castle. Midway along it stood a square with a large wooden statue. On either side, log cabins were crammed together, their roofs reaching all the way to the castle walls.

The villagers were shabbily dressed but worked with a rugged energy, butchering game and tanning hides.

Where are the kids…

The castle town was as loud as it was lively, and Sevha couldn’t pick out their voices from the din. He broke into a run, leaping across the rooftops.

“Master Sevha! Welcome back!”

“Playing with the children again, are you?”

Villagers called out friendly greetings as he passed.

“Don’t just stand there gawking! Get back to work!”

Sevha returned each greeting with a gruff reply, never missing one as he continued his rooftop pursuit.

Then he heard it—the faint patter of small, light footsteps to his right.

He instantly pictured the town’s layout, pinpointing his own position on his mental map and eliminating the area to his left. He leaped toward a roof on his right.

Thud!

He landed with a deliberate, heavy sound. As expected, he heard the children scatter in the opposite direction. Instantly, Sevha crossed off that area on his mental map and leaped again, following the sound of their escape.

Thud! Thud!

Every time he landed, the children fled. And with each thump, Sevha eliminated another section of the map in his head.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

His mental map shrank and shrank, until it could shrink no further.

Swoosh!

Sevha dropped from the roof, sliding to a halt in the alleyway between two cabins. A moment later, the children rounded the corner and ran right into him.

“Caught you.”

With their path blocked, the startled children tumbled backward onto the ground. Then they burst out laughing.

“He got us!”

“Now it’s our turn to be it!”

“The game’s over! Go home and get stuffed with lunch instead!”

At Sevha’s feigned anger, the children just laughed again, extracting a promise to play later before running off.

The moment they were gone, he leaned against the wall of a cabin. He clutched his side, his face contorting in pain.

“Damn brats…”

Then, in the distance, he heard their laughter. A faint smile touched Sevha’s lips.

He straightened up and looked behind him. Beyond a few rooftops stood the inner castle gate.

After passing through it, Sevha found himself before the old, gray-brick keep.

“Fire!”

In the castle courtyard, men and women dressed like him—the Hunters of Anse—were firing at targets.

Among them, a man in plain clothes was throwing a short spear.

He had the same ash-gray hair and golden eyes as Sevha, but the resemblance ended there. The man’s body was massive and brawny, his face as rugged as a block of stone abandoned halfway through sculpting.

Whoosh! THWACK!

The spear, thrown with casual ease, punched clean through the target. Sevha marveled at the man’s strength as he approached.

“Sevha dan Anse, reporting from duty,” Sevha called out formally.

The man simply stared back, his expression one of silent disapproval.

Sevha understood instantly and clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I’m back, Brother Edgar.”

Only then did Edgar, the Count of Anse, break into a smile.

“And your report?” he asked.

“I hunted the Brown Queen. I’ll give you the location where I left the body, so have the villagers retrieve it. Jerome and Della’s bodies are there as well. Bring them back, too.”

Edgar’s lips pressed into a tight line, his grief plain at the news of the hunters’ deaths. “I will have them prepare a grand funeral.”

“A grand funeral? For two fools who let themselves be hunted by their prey?”

As Sevha disparaged the dead, Edgar gave him a light rap on the head.

“What was that for?”

“It is one thing for a hunter to lie to his prey. It is another for a little brother to lie to his big brother. That deserves a knock on the head.”

Sevha’s expression went blank, his tough facade crumbling to reveal the grief beneath.

Seeing his brother’s honesty, Edgar clapped him on the shoulder and changed the subject.

“I have a favor to ask. How are your injuries?”

Not wanting to refuse, Sevha lied. “I took some hits, but I’m fine. I rested for three days at the Rest Stop.”

“You were injured by the Brown Queen and you’re fully recovered after only three days?”

Seeing Edgar’s disbelief, Sevha unslung the white bow from his back. His gaze shifted past the targets, locking onto a wooden barrel filled with spears atop the inner wall.

In that instant, his expression turned to ice. His right hand became a blur.

Pluck, nock, draw, release.

The motion was as smooth as a spring breeze and as swift as lightning. A moment later, an arrow was embedded in the barrel.

“Ooh!”

The other hunters let out a collective gasp.

Anse Archery was a style of rapid-fire that sacrificed precision for speed, forcing an archer to close the distance to their target. But Sevha could strike from afar even with the Anse method.

“Believe me now?” Sevha asked, brimming with confidence.

Edgar replied with even greater certainty. “If you were truly unhurt, you would have hit one of the spears in the barrel, not the barrel itself.”

Unable to argue, Sevha could only pout.

“How many days until you’re properly healed?”

“One—”

“Sevha.”

“Two days!”

“Good. Elise will be here in three.”

The moment he heard her name, Sevha’s pout vanished. “Eli’s coming?”

“Yes. She’ll arrive at the Right Wing Fortress in three days, in the morning. I want you to go meet her.”

“Alright,” Sevha replied nonchalantly and turned toward the keep’s main gate.

Glancing at his brother’s face, Edgar gave a wry smile. “Lying again.”

Sevha didn’t reply. He simply opened the gate.

Creeeak—

And at dawn three days later, Sevha emerged from the rustling trees.

His expression was impassive, but his steps were light. Before him lay a road, wide and paved seamlessly with bricks—a road that had no place in a forest.

As he walked, he passed a stone monument by the roadside, centuries old. Carved into it were words in the Old Continental Language: The Great Road leads to all places.

Next to it stood a newer wooden signpost, which indicated that the Right Wing Fortress was in the opposite direction of where Sevha was headed.

I’ll just meet her on the way, he thought, eager to see her early. He continued walking away from the fortress.

The pre-dawn light gave the road a desolate feel, yet to Sevha, it seemed to shine. It stretched on so far he could not see its end, yet to him, it felt far too short.

That illusion, however, was about to be shattered.

Hee-iiing!

From down the road came the clatter of hooves and wheels. Sevha’s hand went to his handaxe as a cargo wagon raced toward him.

The merchant driving it saw Sevha’s green scarf, pulled his horse to a halt, and shouted, “Are you a Hunter of Anse?”

“I am. What is it?”

“Bandits! They appeared out of nowhere and attacked a party of nobles traveling behind me!”

Sevha froze. “Their family crest? The one on the carriage?”

“It was a bear!”

Sevha broke into a sprint, shouting over his shoulder as he passed the wagon, “Get to the Right Wing Fortress and report this!”

As he ran, the road ahead seemed utterly transformed. Now, it was a bleak path to a deathbed. It stretched on, endless, as if he could run forever and never arrive.

He ran on, his speed fueled by a growing dread.

“Aargh!”

Hearing a scream, Sevha veered off the road and into the woods. Keeping to the cover of the trees, he moved toward the sound.

A scene that reeked of blood came into view.

In the middle of the road, a carriage lay overturned. Soldiers and maids were strewn about, dead or dying, as a group of men in mismatched armor systematically finished them off.

It was a gruesome sight, but Sevha’s eyes were fixed on one thing: the banner hanging limply from the carriage.

On it was a bear rearing on its hind legs.

Sevha thought of the girl who used that crest.

Eli…!

He scanned the massacre with the eyes of a hunter.

Cold and calculating.