01 Hunting Party: Chapter 1

Chapter One – The Kill

Even though the four men went their separate ways over the years, the bond that they had made in their childhood and teen years remained well into their thirties. They celebrated their amity annually on a hunting trip, which was more about the camaraderie between them than the thrill of the kill. In fact, if the truth were known, Mal hated the thought of killing anything for sport and had never done so to date, something which his pals made fun of and joshed about him being a poor shot. But their annual trip was the only opportunity the four of them got together, so Mal kept quiet about his reservations and tolerated the practice from the others.

This year, Vic had booked them into a lodge, deep in the woods, away from civilization, and had agreed to drive the hired wagon, collecting them from a central point where they would all meet and leave their cars until their return a week later. They were taking plenty of beer but had agreed that they would eat what they caught, and Mal felt slightly appeased by this. Vic had only brought coffee and basic canned food so that if the worst came to the worst and they didn't kill anything, at least they wouldn't starve.

Vic was the main organizer and the one who approached the hunt with most relish. Excluding Mal, while the other two went along with his plans, and even took part in the hunting, it was not something that either of them would have chosen to do. Richard would have preferred something much more sedate. He was happier reclined on a sofa reading about the American Civil War or reference books, which he felt enhanced his knowledge. Greg enjoyed sports but preferred activities that would increase his stamina and strength. He prided himself on his physical appearance and fitness levels. Mal thought of himself as being more spiritual and believed that spiritual development and enlightenment should be a high priority in everyone's life. The others ridiculed his sensitivity, so he tried his best to keep his philanthropic thoughts to himself for fear of attracting ridicule from his peers.

The lodge that Vic had booked was basic but adequate, and they brewed coffee and fried off the steak that they had brought along for their first evening meal. Salad to accompany it was pre-prepared and the meat tasted especially delicious because the long journey had built up a voracious appetite in them all. They spent the evening catching up with each other's lives, asking about their various jobs and families, and all of them felt as if their friendship had only been interrupted briefly. They slept soundly in surprisingly comfortable beds, although the blankets were rough and scratchy; fortunately, this did nothing to delay sleep.

Three of them awoke to the smell of bacon and freshly brewed coffee and found Mal already attending to breakfast in the kitchen. Breakfasts aroma was enough to get them out of bed, and each of them eagerly followed their noses to the table. It wasn't long before the meal had been wolfed down, and after hastily getting ready, they set off for a day's hunting on foot, each carrying rifles under their arms.

It was a hot day, and it wasn't long before Vic had his first prey fixed in his sights. A wild boar munched greedily on grass, completely oblivious that it was to be its last meal. Seconds after the shot rang out, Vic whooped victoriously delighting in the thud of the dead animal as it slouched heavily to the ground. Touting applause for the first kill, Vic suggested that they continue to hunt and return for the boar later that day. They would feast well this evening.

The others acquiesced, but Mal would prefer to have returned to the cabin, or better still, go home. Watching the animal being slaughtered had sickened him, and he doubted very much if he would be able to eat it when it was served up to him as a trophy. The whole experience had left him feeling strongly that he may well become vegetarian from now on.

They carried on with their search for more defenseless wildlife to take aim at, and Mal decided that this would have to be his last hunting trip no matter how much he wanted to see his old buddies. Little did he know how prophetic his wish would turn out to be. If he had looked behind him, he might have noticed, camouflaged by trees, the green, dull eyes of the troll that hunted the group. It confidently tracking their footsteps and savoring the momentum building within it until the moment it would savage them and avenge the laws of nature.