Winds whispered to the hunters as they waited on the lower ground. Many of the whip-necks sat on the ground as their riders watched for any predators. Cuganwa watched as well seeing nearly a dozen blood-manes fly overhead before leaving toward the mountains.

  ‘So many blood-manes. By his shine, how don’t they have the blood-mane symbol,’ The boy thought remembering the emblems engraved into the hilts of their ivory knives.

  Cuganwa smirked at the thought until he looked at the ground seeing several ants taking apart a large moth. One of its wings was crushed keeping the insect grounded and falling prey to the swarm. As the moth beats its remaining wing, a few ants were flung with every flap only to return later.

  “I think we could,” someone whispered. The boy then looked back seeing two hunters speaking to one another.

  “A second village? You still think we have the resources or time?” Selsaj asked.

  “Why not? The village has grown. Only the training areas don’t have huts. Soon we’ll grow larger and moving the gates will take away too much time,” Iogda stated.

  “All that digging for a second village makes more sense than all the digging it would take to expand what we have?” Selsaj turned with narrowed eyes at Iogda.

  Iogda’s eyes widened. “If we keep expanding, the huts that are too far out will be exposed to the storms. They’ll just be taken away. A second village just makes more sense.” His hands flailed about to emphasize his point.

  “A wall sounds better than anything else. Why separate? Do you want two chiefs?” Selsaj glared at Iogda.

  “No. But why would that be a problem?” Iogda looked at the man confused.

  “Same reason there aren’t two families in a single hut. No matter how large, they’ll fight for space, authority, and resources.”

  Iogda turned to face Selsaj. “How do you know that? Two villages and two families aren’t the same things.”

  “I’ve got siblings and we fight. I’ve seen families, not connected,

  fight. If there are two villages, they will fight. Either for resources or the chief’s blade and the elder’s rings. There’s gotta be something to respect in the other village. People who want to get away from each other will separate and that’s where feuds will get worse. If everyone isn’t stuck together to learn to work it out, you just have enemies and sides. A second village won’t work.”

  Iogda stared at Selsaj, silent. “You sure”

  “I fought my brother,” Selsaj then scratched at his forearm turning it to Iogda to reveal a long scar going from the middle to his elbow. “Fights can get bad if there isn’t a way to work together. Under your glow, I will protect. I will aid my kin.”

  Cuganwa listened to the senior hunter’s words as he turned back to the captured moth. One of the wings was already taken off as the other flapped frantically. He looked at the dark brown circle in the middle of its wings resembling an eye. The witch then came to the boy’s mind making him wonder if the witch were the same. His father warned the boy to never take a life unless it was a threat but, two men died trying to attack her.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  ‘Is she not a threat now?’ the boy wondered. A sudden caw called the boy’s attention to the sky. An eager blood-mane circled the area once more.

  “Something on your mind, Cuganwa?” Odaru asked.

  Before the boy could speak, loud trumpeting rose from the distance. Everyone grew silent as they looked out into the planes. Two whip-necks rode parallel to one another in front of a large adult heavy-horns charging after them. The rear archers continued to pelt the beast’s face with arrows that fell to the floor unable to pierce its hide. As the hunters continued, the drivers spotted the blue rags on the floor and grew further apart as they led the beast. Cuganwa looked at the hunters’ work as his fingers dug into the dirt. His throat grew dry as he watched.

  Once the whip-necks passed the markings, the lumbering heavy-horn continued. A thunderous crash and cracking sounded through the area with a distinct trumpet filled with pain instead of rage. Cuganwa’s grip tightened as he looked at wallowing clouds of dust revealing only a hazed silhouette of the animal. Its trumpeting was replaced with whimpering grunts. The other hunters started to move as with axes and tarps at the ready.

  Cuganwa climbed onto the higher bank as well making his way to the pit. It did not take long for the gentle breeze to carry away the dust revealing the large red beast stuck within. The boy looked at the mangled animal trying to remember that it was game like anything else despite the wounds it suffered. Its front legs twisted to the side and skewered by the hidden bones acting as spikes. Blood spilled into the dirt. Part of its head stuck out of the other side thanks to its large tusks only for the left pair to have snapped off colliding with the pit wall. Its trunk lay limply over the ground. The beast continued to breathe slowly as its large eyes remained half-open still fighting to live.

  “Stay back!” one of Lamoy’s hunters commanded. “Until it stops breathing, a flick of its trunk can still send you flying.” The hunters watched as its stomach rose and fell with fading strength until it lied still. The hunter then waved to everyone that they could continue. First, were the axes to break through the tough hide as some climbed into the pit to retrieve the fallen tusk. Others placed large water bladders beneath the animal’s neck and created new wounds and collected the blood for other materials. Cuganwa started thinking back to the ants as he hacked into a layer of muscle around the ribs, blood splattered onto his tunic.

  ‘We collect and hunt together. What hunts us?’ the boy wondered as he hacked into the spine of the beast as instructed by another hunter.

  They skinned the animal and started to separate several layers of fat, muscle, and then dozens of ribs sitting in layers of the beast. Other hunters took off the heavy-horns legs as others took the trunk. Only an hour or so had passed, and they managed to take most of the animal’s remains before burying it to keep the scent of the kill from lingering. Only the blood-manes that witnessed the harvest would stick around to dig up the carcass biding their time.

  “Cuganwa, what’s on your mind? You look confused by something,” Odaru said.

  Cuganwa’s brow then furrowed as he looked toward Odaru. “I’m just wondering about the hunts. We take on the other animals in groups but, what hunts us?” Cuganwa asked.

  “Hm. You sound like the elders, Little Charge-horn,” Odaru stated with a smile. “I don’t know. The monsters we have rarely care for us particularly. Maybe the witch.”

  “I just wonder if she ever really would or are we going to attack thinking she would.” Odaru furrowed his brow as he looked at the boy. “Deyunca is gone but, he won’t be the only one, right?”

  The older hunter shrugged his shoulders. “Not likely” Odaru then looked to the ground as he squinted one eye and closed the other. “I think Lord Kelvert has a plan for all of us. It’s good to ask but, we will know later. Remember, his light guides us.” Odaru looked at Cuganwa with a smile before turning away to pet Muga’s neck. The two then waited as the same pair of whip-necks ventured out into the tall grass to lure another heavy-horn.

  ‘Great Lord, why hasn’t the witch hunted us? Will that make others still hunt for her?’ Cuganwa questioned. As Cuganwa watched the hunters race off into the distance, his thoughts dwelled on the witch’s feeling. People have tried to kill her out of fear or anger. ‘If I faced that and survived, I think I’d look for revenge. What stops her?’