Tark's First Hunt

Chapter One

Tark's First Hunt

Tark was born a Hunter. The forest of Minalo lay to the north of the Ardrene River. It also lay to the north of the heavily populated southern lands. This was the region where the Hunters ranged. Tall cone-bearing trees towered over the forest floor that lay thick with ferns and mushrooms. The thick old growth forests were havens to Hunters and animals alike. In Minalo, being born a Hunter was something special. Hunters are a unique race of people. They are born with stealth that would show-up even an elf. Although they are taller, they are as broad in the shoulder as a dwarf. The race of Hunters was in fact descended from both elven and dwarven roots. Most of the Hunters were dark haired, though every once and a while a light haired child was born. Tark was one of these. So it was no surprise that Tark never felt like he was a true Hunter.

Tark's mother, Marya, gave birth to seven girls before bearing him. Each sister was more beautiful than the one before. Matchmakers flocked to their home as the girls grew. Before the eldest was in long skirts, all seven of them were promised to young men of fine Hunter families. Then Tark was born.

The day of his birth was a joyous occasion for his Marya and Tarnen, his father, as well as the village. The whole of Meadowbend was celebrating the harvest festival. There were merchants from the city of Tyrbridge hawking their wares from brightly colored wagons. Entertainers had set up their booths in the festival square. Children danced and played around the stalks of corn and the barrels of apples. Tarnen stood on the square and gave everyone he saw little gifts, as is a tradition, for the birth of his first son. The tiny infant was paraded around the square, much to the baby’s dismay. He squalled over the din of the festival until Marya collected him for feeding. In the center of the square sat a crone predicting people's fortunes for a sum. Seeing Marya walk by with the child, she graciously gifted his parents with a foretelling.

"He will be an adventurer in his day." She said. "He will leave the place of his birth and do great things. He will not follow the way of the Hunter. However, his actions will save the Hunters from extinction." This last statement was received with scoffing and laughter.

"My son is from an ancient family of Hunters. Our line has continued unbroken for as long as there has been Hunters. No one in this line had ever wanted to be anything other than a Hunter."

"This one will." The crone raised her voice to be heard above the onlookers. "This one will do greater things than his forbearers. The fate of the land will rest on his shoulders." She predicted.

"It isn't possible," Tarnen insisted, "My son will be great, but a great Hunter."

Of course, if they had thought of Marya's ancestry, they would have worried. Marya's family came from the edge of Hunter's land near the land of the elves. It was much more common for these ones to become something other than Hunters. Tark's Great Grandfather, on his mother's side, had become a great mage and some of that magic had been passed down to him in the blood of his mother. Perhaps he was destined to follow another path than that of a Hunter. But his parents shrugged off the prediction and tried to raise their son to be a great Hunter.

On his fifth birthday, he got his first tiny bow and arrow set and his first hunting cloak. The hunting cloaks of his people allowed them to hide in plain sight, practically. The cloak blended into the background, no matter where they were standing. The cloaks were made of the hair of a Unicorn's tail, very magical indeed. His father was so proud of the fact that his only son was beginning his training.

"My Tark will be the Best Hunter some day. He comes from a great line of Best Hunters." His father would often boast.

Marya and Tark's seven sisters treated Tark with a sort of proud distance. Although he was only a child he was expected to learn how a man would behave, and no one "babied" him. He was treated as a man, as tradition dictated for the son of a Hunter.

Tark's training consisted of practice with the bow and arrow in the academy practice yard, as well as learning the sword, staff and a host of other weapons. Though his teachers were amazed at his skill in all the weapons, Tark grew most proficient with the sling. He could, at six years of age, hit anything he aimed at and throw a stone almost as far as his father could.

One day, in early July, Tarnen decided to take him hunting. He would not be allowed to actually hunt until his Naming Day, in September, but he could follow and learn what it took to hunt successfully. They prepared for the journey by packing food, donning their cloaks and slinging their weapons over their shoulder. They left the cottage before the sun had risen and were many miles into the forest before it peeped through the treetops to dapple the forest floor.

Though he was only six, Tark already had the stealth of a prime Hunter. He walked with the quiet of a primal cat and left no trail for anyone to follow. His father thought nothing of this for it came naturally to most Hunters. However, when he first noticed birds flitting about Tark and then landing on his shoulders and head whenever Tark stopped walking, he should have wondered. And when the smaller mammals, rabbits, squirrels, mice and chipmunks began to follow Tark, he should have started to worry. He, however, didn't notice, or noticed and thought nothing of it.

To Tark, this was nothing new. Animals had always been his friends. Growing up with seven sisters who didn’t want to play his games made him adept at playing with those available creatures. The frogs and lizards, squirrels and mice that populated the area around the cottage were his friends and always played with him during his free moments. When they stopped for their mid-day meal the animals shied away, for Tarnen held no spell over them and they feared him. They ate flatbread, cheese and apples, which they washed down with cool, clear water from a nearby stream. They spoke quietly while they ate, about the forest and the creatures they were searching for. When they had finished eating they started searching again.

Late in the day, Tarnen sighted a young buck, a stag horn, and he motioned for Tark to stand silently. The buck saw them and stood gazing at them while Tarnen sighted an arrow at the proud beast that was walking slowly closer to the pair. At six, Tark hadn't ever seen anything die. He watched his father line up the arrow and let it fly. It flew true and buried itself fletching deep in the heart of the deer. The deer held Tark's gaze for a few seconds as if imparting some final wisdom to the lad and fell dead at his feet. Tark's face showed first shock and then sorrow. To his credit, he didn't cry. He leaned over and put one hand on the muzzle of the buck. The buck’s eyes opened and it looked at Tark. A green glow surrounded the buck emanating from Tark’s hand. The deer’s flesh shivered and the arrow was pushed from its body. The deer stood and bounded away from the two Hunters. Tarnen was shocked, and then angry. Tark turned away and threw up. Black liquid spewed from his lips. Tarnen didn’t know what to do. When Tark finished he turned toward his father and pointed to another deer on the ridge. This deer was older and looked like it held one leg off the ground.
“Father, this one is ready to die. We can take him home.” The deer’s rack was enormous, at least 28 points. It looked strong and healthy, except for the broken leg. Tarnen took aim and shot it.
“Stay here; I don’t want you to bring this one back.”
“I won’t. This one was ready to come to us. The other hadn’t even mated yet.”
“How do you know that?” His father scowled again.
“I just do,” was Tark’s only reply.
“What did you do?” His father asked.
“I don’t know, I just wanted it to grow up. It wasn’t ready to die. This one is.” He gestured to the freshly killed and much larger buck.
Tarnen scowled at Tark. He was angered by loosing the first deer. He was puzzled by what he had seen Tark do. He didn’t like the way that Tark was talking. Animals had been put on the planet for the Hunters to eat. The Hunters didn’t domesticate their animals, they hunted them. The Hunters didn’t heal the animals; they killed them, cleaned them, ate them and used their bones and skins for their crafts. Tark was no Hunter. Tarnen turned his back on his son.
“Say nothing of this to anyone. You will go to your Uncle’s home on the border tomorrow. You will not be a Hunter.”
Marya tried to understand what had happened exactly but Tarnen wouldn't explain. His heart was broken though, and his spirit was broken too. Tark left his home the next day and never saw his father again.
The Next Chapter

Tark's Uncle