Animal

The moon was full and hanging low on the sky when he first came across the car. Walking through the woods at a languid pace with the crunch of snow familiar beneath those large boots, the hunter did not mind the temperatures this night.

Despite the forecast of negatives, his body flushed with a warm anticipation. A dull thrum just beneath his left rib cage that reverberated up his spine to the back of his sunburned nape. It was prophetic, this feeling. And he came to believe that he too was a prophet of some sort to the universe.

His movements were fluid and seamless in the dark. The tall imposing figure floating noiselessly with a rifle slung over his shoulder and a bear trap pried open in the other.

The night had been uneventful.

A ritualistic day like any other as the woods solemnly witnessed the hunter make his way from one end to the other, setting traps and checking those whose teeth were clamped around the ankles of wolves.

The animals had been exhausted by the time he found them. Laying on the ground in a pile of misery, the life of hope in their eyes dimmed to an inevitable dread. Some had been dead upon his arrival, perhaps sensing mercy in their own suicide rather than waiting on the hunter to appear with his own game of malice.

Today however, there had been no victim.

No wolf whimpering in the jaws of death.

No panicky glint in those yellowed eyes as he descended upon them like nightfall.

Empty traps everywhere. And he did not mind it truthfully.

The hunger had not yet beckoned to him and plotted a path for him in the woods. Rather, the hunter took the night's silence as a time to walk around and admire the forest in all its glory.

The trees stood like sentinels with long branches that twisted downwards like arthritic fingers.

His breath plumed out then broke apart on his moving face.

Quiet snowflakes drifted down from the dark clouds and settled along the wide line of his shoulders which flexed beneath the layered jacket. A few dots of white dusted his long lashes.

The forest was an extension of the hunter. Something that had molded itself into the very flesh of him such that he did not know where he ended and the forest began. They had formed a symbiotic relationship of sorts.

He cared for the forest, protected it.

And in return, mother nature yielded its strength to him and fed him, revealing secrets and deep things no one knew of.

And today, despite having no catch, the forest directed his steps further from his usual spots and into the very edge of it. He walked and walked and walked, the length of it seeming neverending, the destination of no particular point in the horizon.

Yet still he felt that tingling in his rib cage, that soft press of wind like a palm against his back nudging in that direction.

The hunter did not question despite the niggling curiosity which tickled the back of his neck. His gloved hands flexed, long dexterous fingers straining against the leather, and made a mental note to pick up more winter supplies for his body. He had already outgrown the gloves he bought last winter among other things including weapons and traps.

There was always room for expansion, for needing more things.

The path before him cleared as the woods began to shrink farther behind until he realised where instinct had led him.

The I-56 highway.

A large structural tarmac that cuts across the country with hundreds of cars and trucks traveling along it. The highway was not far from the small town of Daed, and in the night the road was illuminated with street lights every few hundred meters apart.

Tonight, however, they flickered.

The hunter remained unmoving at the shoulder of the highway. His golden eyes took in the distance on both sides yet still he did not move. He watched as a figure lumbered from his left, a mass that was formless and without shape with two large glowing eyes that illuminated the space before it.

He did not blink or cringe back when the truck passed him by, the glaring lights like heat as the superstructure trembled beneath his feet. He watched the red tail lights fade into the distance before noticing the small strand of smoke rising on the opposite shoulder of the highway.

Interesting.

The hunter had not seen it before, but he did now. The roadside barrier had been cut through violently, and by looks of it, a car had done the damage.

His neck felt hot all of a sudden, a flush of heat and anticipation raising the fine hairs on his arms. He crossed the road slowly, like a predator setting its eyes on some unseen prey and the air turned electric.

The car's front had been mangled and crashed beyond recognition. It had slammed into a thick barked tree which seemed unharmed. From the likes of it, the hunter perceived that the car had rolled once or twice before slamming into the tree, it lay on its side like some haggard dying beast.

The structure seemed reminiscent of how his prey would be within the jaws of his traps, wounded and weary as life slipped from it.

How ironic, the corner of his mouth quirked in a humorless smile.

Shifting the rifle on his shoulder, he circled the car around, sharp eyes seeing beyond the veil of smoke that clouded the interior. From the estimation, the accident had occurred not more than a few hours, just after sunset, otherwise a few cars would have stopped and helped it.

But the trees hemmed the gruesome scene from naked eyes, choosing only to reveal its secrets to the one it trusted most.

Him.

From the back of the car he saw a figure then. The shape of her head slumped to the side unconsciously.

Interesting.

The tingling spread like a fever across his chest, this time he could not ignore the sensation as he approached, head tilting in growing curiosity at who evoked such foreign emotions in him.

You.

And there she was, half-dead and bleeding from a ragged gash across her temple. Her hair seemed to have matted at some point, the tentative rise and fall of her chest so vague he would have considered her dead had it not been for his sharp all-seeing eyes. She was slumped on the seat with the belt still suspended across her chest.

The hunter leaned in and raised a fist to the window.

He knocked politely.

Once, twice.

When she did not rouse, he grasped the door and pried it open with ease. The dents around metal should have locked it in place and had it been any other person, human perhaps, they would have waited for a tow truck or broken through the window.

But he was not just any other human to begin with.

The inside had a smoky carbon smell, yet beneath that fog her scent remained sharp and clear. Soft and sweet, something unfamiliar with a tangy threat of fear.

Poor girl, he mused with a fetched sigh as his eyes scoured the interior before landing on her awkwardly twisted arm. Straightening upright, the hunter glanced around the woods once more as silence stretched all around him.

The humming in his chest did not abate.

And his mind, for the first time, grew disquiet. A single thread of thought rose from the dark recesses, followed by another thought. They came unbidden, some dark, some twisted, some... merciful even. Was that a compassionate thought?

I could save her.

It was easy really, just reach in, unbuckle and sling her over his shoulder. Return to the scene another night and clear off what was needed, perhaps search through her items and whatnot, see who she is.

Who is she?

The back door creaked and groaned in protest as it tore open under his arm and, setting his rifle upright against the tree bark, he picked a backpack from the back seat. The contents within drew his attention like a moth to flame. A few thick books on physics and the motions of the universe, a topic about lycanthropy, a well-worn novel with its page still dog-eared from the last time she opened it.

In her wallet was wedged a few crisp notes, medical insurance card and at last her driving license.

Micah Rolloh, twenty-five years old from the state of Pentrat.

Her face, unlike the bloodied cold one, was beaming at the camera revealing a chipped front tooth. The curls of her hair falling short of her eyebrows and ears. She seemed happy, content and with so much hope in her eyes.

If she knew where she would end up in a few years or so, in a ditch with a wolf knocking at her door, would the glimmer of glee still flicker in those brown eyes?

Perhaps.

Tapping the card against his open palm, he hummed quietly into the night while gazing up at the moon in thought.

It seemed then that the forest had shown some compassion and revealed a much sweeter secret, a gift wrapped all nice and pretty for the taking.

And who was he to refuse.

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