literature

Hunters' Thrill

Deviation Actions

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Literature Text

Jackson took a slow, deep breath and inhaled all of the information the forest could provide for him.  His ears twitched at every chirp and crackle in the late summer air.  As he crouched motionless on a branch of a dense tree, he created a mental list of any changes to the area.  He had no interest in the squirrels that scurried from tree to tree or the birds that perched themselves high above him.  Like the flowing stream near the forest's edge, they were just another part of the environment but not his focus.  With the hunting season drawing closer every day, he needed practice and the prey he was dealing with would demand careful concentration.  His timing had to be perfect; his execution flawless or failure was inevitable.  He ran through his timing estimations in his mind once again as he detected the first signs of his targets' approach.  Right on schedule.

"Five bucks says he's on the front porch in a chair, laughing at how he got us to trudge through this stupid forest for half the day."

The voice was still distant but Jackson could tell that its owner was drawing near.  Footsteps grew louder as well as a group made its way towards his tree.  He only hoped that his quarry would notice the gashes he left in the tree bark and the heavy tracks he made that would lead them to where he wanted them.

"So how 'bout it Bear Grylls?" came another, more sarcastic voice. "You said you had his trail.  Well, it's been hours and we haven't spotted him."

"That doesn't mean he isn't out here.  Keep your voices down and let's just get to the bridge.  We'll figure out the rest when we have the water to drown out the conversation." The reply was delivered calmly but Jackson sensed tension behind it.

"Ya know, I bet that was his plan all along.  Keepin' us out here like this.  I mean, once the sun goes down, we're as good as done!  Am I right?!" said the first voice.

Jackson perked up at this.  His brief concerns were suppressed not long after by a higher pitched voice from somewhere farther behind the others.

"Aw come on, man!  Don't say that!  That's not true, is it?"
  
"Of course it is.  If it gets any darker, which it will, his advantages will outweigh ours." the first voice replied.

There was a pause as the group let that realization sink in.  Jackson could sense their tension mounting and was all too prepared to use it against them.

"Chris is right.  We'll search for a few more minutes and then get out of here." said the boy with the calmer voice.  "Ah ha!  Look at this!  See the claw marks on the tree?  And over there we've got tracks.  Come on!"

Perfect.  Jackson thought.  The group was heading his way and he counted four different voices.  Wait, there were five of them when they started off.  They must have left someone behind to watch their backs.  Jackson quickly calculated how this would factor into his plan.  The rear guard would have to be taken care of but he knew he would have to work quickly.

"Keep it quiet now.  Look out for anything that'll snap or crunch."  No sooner did the speaker finish his sentence did Jackson hear a burst of sharp, hollow cracks split the air.

"I'm sorry!  I thought I saw something moving!" said the youngest voice.  Jackson capitalized on the opportunity and leapt gracefully from the tree.  His legs absorbed the impact and he landed with a soft thump.

"Put your safety on.  We can't afford any extra loud noises." the calm teen whispered.

"You're jumpy as hell, Jimmy.  It was just a squirrel.  He'll sound much louder anyway."  Jackson grinned and silently took off through the woods, taking care to keep a good distance from the group.  As his paws dug into the soft earth and propelled him along, he kept his ears open.

"He's got the right idea though.  He's somewhere close now so don't hesitate to call him out.  And don't forget to watch each other's backs."

Then you should have given your rear guard a partner… Jackson picked up the scent of the lone teen before he saw him.  He crept along the ground slowly and flattened his body as much as possible.  However, as his target faced away from him, he had no idea that he was being stalked.  He was dressed in an old pair of olive drab hiking pants and a matching shirt.  His head was completely covered by a black helmet with a sun visor and clear goggles built in.  Two thick straps formed an X across his back.  One secured a small satchel containing three plastic tubes filled with orange spheres while the other strap acted as a sling for a compact paintball marker.

Jackson's muscles tensed before he took a breath and bolted forward.  He bounded over a low bush but his target swung around at the sudden noise.  The teen gasped and reflexively brought the marker to bear on Jackson.  As he fired, Jackson nimbly dodged the volley and continued his charge.  Before the teen could adjust his aim, Jackson closed the distance and swiped at his left leg.  His padded paw caught the boy's shin and dropped him to the dirt with a low groan.  Jackson's momentum carried him forward but he soon stopped to change direction.

The boy propped himself up on his elbows.  Through the goggles' lenses he gazed into his assailant's amber eyes.  Though his face was obscured, Jackson imagined a sly smile forming behind the protective mask.  "I should've seen that coming.  But you know the rules.  Limb strikes aren't fatal!" With that he raised his marker and opened up on Jackson who ducked back into the brush.  "He's back here!" he heard the teen call out as the marker fell silent.  Instead, Jackson heard the group crash through the underbrush to aid their comrade.  With a grin of satisfaction, Jackson returned to watch his quarry and overhear their course of action.

"Hey!  Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Which way did he go?!"

The group was quick to ask several questions and with every one they grew more uneasy.

"Where'd he tag you?"

"Left leg.  Listen, don't bother with me.  He didn't tag me out because he wants you to waste time trying to move me.  He's counting on that.  By the time you drag me to the bridge, it'll be dark."

The boy with the calm voice nodded. "He's right.  It's an old tactic.  Take out one guy and group moves on but if you wound him then the group slows down to treat him."

Chris' brother Jimmy, the youngest of the group, replied instantly. "We can't just leave him here!"

"Look, the rules we agreed on say I can still use my other leg and anything else that hasn't been tagged.  I'll be fine.  Just give me a mock bandage and then run for it."

That's it.  Run and get spread out.

"You sure, Ryan?" the calm boy asked.  Jackson hid behind a wide tree and raised his head to unleash a deep howl.  To him it was nothing but empowering but he could almost sense the group's stress grow like a fire.

"That sounded close!  He's close!  He's close!" Jimmy began to panic.  He waved the black barrel of his marker around wildly, causing the paintballs in the auto-feeder to rattle as he scanned the woods for a target.

"Go now!  I'll cover you as best I can from here.  I can buy you some time if he shows himself.  If you hear me shoot, you know what that means!  Now go!" Ryan shouted as his four friends took off towards the bridge.  It didn't take long for Jackson to race ahead of them and find a suitably dense tree that would conceal him.  He scaled it effortlessly and waited once again.  Soon enough, he spotted the first of the four boys.  They were dressed similarly to Ryan with protective masks and earthen colored clothes.  Unlike Ryan, none of them carried their markers on slings and by the sound of their panting; running with their equipment had grown tiring.

"My dang mask is foggin' up!  I can't see a thing." Chris said. "Cover me while I clear it up."  The group stopped and formed up around him.  Every direction on the ground was covered, but with their sun visors limiting their vision, none of them thought to check the trees.  Jackson saw his chance and seized it.

His powerful legs launched him through the air and absorbed the shock of his landing in the soft dirt.  All Chris saw when he donned his helmet again was a dark brown blur before he was tapped on the chest and collapsed to the ground.  Jackson immediately dashed behind the protection of the surrounding trees as the group realized what happened and filled the forest with frantic marker chatter.

"Oh my good…Did he just get Chris?!  Wasn't anybody watching?!  Where did he even come from?!"

No one answered as Jackson prepared himself to make another pass.

"We can't stop like this.  What we're gonna do is leapfrog in a triangle.  Pick out a tree and run to it.  When you're there, turn around and provide cover for the next guy.  We'll keep this up until we're out of the woods!" Jackson found it interesting how this boy was trying to organize the remnants of his group to escape.  He'd never hunted anything that not only fought back but also reasoned and adapted its strategy.  He bared his teeth in an intimidating smile and howled with excitement at the thought.

"Can you explain that again!?" Jimmy asked.

"No time!  He's close!  Move!"  Paintballs tore through the air and made hushed snaps as they zipped past Jackson.  Those that burst on the trees gave off a slightly acrid aroma from the biodegradable liquid inside.  However, the more visceral scent came from the survivors' mixture of fright, courage and determination.  They were going to make Jackson earn his victory and he wouldn't have preferred it any other way.

"Brandon, you're up!" called the leader.  He sprayed a short burst into every cluster of bushes in sight, challenging Jackson's ability to maneuver on the ground safely.  Jackson dared himself to peek around a tree.  The other boy took off at a full sprint as the leader spotted his head and peppered the tree with another burst.  It appeared as if his only option was to retreat and find another direction to attack from because this boy had him suppressed.

The leader managed to force a barely audible chuckle in between shots.  "You just stay put now!  We'll be back for you soon enough."  Then it's too bad I'm coming to you.  Unable to expose himself on the ground, Jackson scampered up the tree.  His quarry hadn't caught on to his trick yet and he hoped it would tip the odds back into his favor.

"I made it!  We've got you covered!" Brandon shouted.  From high in the branches, Jackson watched the leader take a few final shots before he sprinted towards the forest's edge.  As soon as he did, Jackson followed suit.  Although he normally wouldn't travel through the trees, he was nearly as surefooted high above the ground as he was directly on it.  Every sense felt even sharper than usual for him as his heart beat and adrenaline coursed through his body.  He couldn't remember when he'd ever felt more alive.

"Why did I agree to this?" Brandon asked as his friend took cover behind a fallen log.

"I may have been a little too good in talking you into it." the other teen replied.

"Well I'm glad you did.  Hey, no hard feelings about the jokes earlier?"

"Yeah, just keep your eyes open for Jimmy's run.  He's somewhere behind us but watch out.  I've got a feeling something's up."

You got that right.

"You're clear, Jimmy!"

Jimmy ran again but before the boy could find another piece of cover, Jackson locked onto him and dropped down directly in his path.  Jimmy stumbled backwards, too stricken with surprise to react.  Jackson towered over him as he stood on his digitigrade hind paws and bared his teeth with a menacing growl.  He took a step forward and tagged the frozen boy on the chest.  He fell on his back and began to holler.

"Not again!" the leader shouted as he spun around to catch a glimpse of Jackson evaporating into the woods again. "How's he even…?"  He struggled to maintain his composure as he and Brandon ran over to their panicking friend.

"Hey!  Calm down!  You're not supposed to talk if you're out!" Brandon said as he hushed the unharmed boy. "Just take a seat by that tree and we'll finish this thing, okay?"  The boy nodded and offered Brandon his marker.  He gladly accepted it and awkwardly tucked the compressed air tank at the rear of the marker under his armpit. "You watch the front, I'll watch the back."

His friend leaned closer and tried to sneak a whisper past Jackson's ears.  "He wanted to waste time.  So that's what we'll do."

In the dying light of the day, Jackson howled once again but the last two survivors weren't intimidated.  Instead, they responded to his haunting call with their own rapid-fire retorts.  They moved with their backs to each other and scanned the scene with their markers raised.  The markers gave them the advantage of range and speed but that was only when they were loaded.  Jackson always had the advantage of speed but his weapons required him to be close.  It was time to subtract another factor of the equation.

As his opponents made their way to the bridge, Jackson began to circle them.  With trees and shrubs between him and the teens, he increased his speed until his heavy footfalls were loud enough for them to hear.

"On your right!  No, your other right!" Brandon shouted as Jackson rushed past his field of vision.  He waited for his target to complete his circuit and raised both markers.  He squeezed their triggers and sprayed the projectiles into the woods.  Jackson felt a paintball streak just above the fur on his back and yelped as another brushed through his white-tipped tail.  Too close.  I hope their aim doesn't improve.

"Lead the target!  Lead the target!" the leader advised, the excitement in his voice almost palatable.

That can't be good.  Time to change it up again. Amid a constant stream of incoming fire, Jackson grounded to a halt and headed straight for the teens with the setting sun at his back.  They leveled their barrels at him only to catch the blinding radiance of the sun directly in their eyes.  Jackson catapulted himself over both of them as they wasted more of their ammunition firing at his last position.  When Jackson landed, he wasted no time in rushing up behind Brandon and tagging him on the back before escaping again.

"Are you hit?" Jackson heard the leader ask.  His friend's silence made Jackson grin.  It was just the two of them now.  "Alright!  You want me?  Come and get me!"  Several random barks from the marker sounded off but after the fifth, the noise of compressed air alone filled Jackson's ears. "Shi-"the leader began to curse as he dropped his empty marker and scrambled to pick up his fallen comrade's in the hope that it was loaded.  The wide footbridge to the outside of the forest was not far and he knew it was his only chance.  Jackson trotted well behind him as the teen tore through the underbrush in his desperate attempt to escape.  However, in his hurry, the teen did not notice a tree root hidden beneath the leaves and tripped before he could reach the bridge.  Jackson heard his prey's only defense crash to the floor of the wooden bridge after it flew from his hands.

The boy knew Jackson was coming but he looked over his shoulder anyway.  His assailant drew closer on four legs.  His ears were low against his head and he tried to pin the boy to the ground with his gaze.  Despite this, the boy spotted his marker and began to crawl for it.  As the final moments of the afternoon's encounter approached, Jackson felt the rush of a hunt nearing completion.  All he had to do was finish off this final survivor.  The boy stopped crawling when he reached the lowest step of the bridge, his marker still out of reach.  He would have to stand up to retrieve it but he knew that to do so would only elicit his opponent's strike.  Jackson shared his thoughts and stopped.  He sat back on his hind legs and waited.  Moments passed in silence as the two hunters stared at each other.  Suddenly, the boy made a leap from where he sat and reached the marker.  Jackson closed the distance in an instant but that instant was all it took for the boy to aim at his tan chest.  Jackson brought himself up and effortlessly balanced himself on his hind legs as he felt the cold metal barrel poke his stomach.  No!

The marker went off at pointblank range from Jackson and took him by surprise.  However, when he looked down, there was no mark or bruise as the compressed air blast never propelled a paintball.  Jackson's opponent stared in disappointment at the jammed marker in his hands before lowering it and looking up at Jackson.  He stood a foot taller than the teen and saw his white and brown muzzle reflected in the goggles' glass.  For the first time during the encounter, Jackson spoke in a growling, gravelly tone.

"Well played and hard fought, my friend.  But I win." He raised his paw but the boy only held up his hand.  Beneath them, the flowing stream muttered vigorously.

"Are you sure you're not forgetting anybody?"

A chill ran down Jackson's spine and came to a discomforting stop in his tail.  In the thrill of the chase he had overlooked one loose end.  The sudden realization of his lapse in memory made his eyes go wide as his ears swiveled to the sound of a marker's bolt locking back.  Though the rushing water had prevented Jackson from hearing footsteps and the scent of the leader had occupied his focus, the sharp clack sounded like it was meant to get his attention and easily carried over the sound of the stream.  When Jackson turned, he barely had time to register the figure of Ryan leaning on a makeshift crutch as he fired three paintballs into his chest.

"Better late than never, huh Ryan?" the leader shouted as Jackson stared down at the orange paint that had already begun to drip down his fur.  Ryan allowed his marker to hang by its sling as he threw away the large stick he had tucked under his left arm.  With the game over, he was free to walk on his "injured" leg once again.

"I'd like to see you hop around on one foot and still get back here in time." Ryan replied.

Jackson made an odd combination of a bark and a laugh as his friend approached the bridge. "I should have tagged you when I heard them leave you.  I won't make that mistake again!"  He ran a paw through the paint and wiped it off on Ryan's shirt.

"Hey, watch it!  Besides, fair's fair!  I followed the rules and had to crawl around lookin' for a good walking stick because of you.  I owed you a shot or two if Nathan didn't get you first." Ryan replied wryly.

"He wouldn't have." Jackson said.

"It looks like I almost did." Nathan retorted.

"'Almost', doesn't count."

"Yeah, like how you 'almost' took us all out?" the teen joked. Jackson gave him a dismissive look.

"Three and a half is still pretty good." he replied gruffly.

"Okay, guys.  We can talk about it later.  For now we've gotta call the others back." Ryan interjected.

Brandon, Jimmy and Chris trotted out of the woods when they heard that the game was over.  They removed their helmets and smiled at Ryan.

"So we won?  You really got him?" Brandon asked.  Ryan and Jackson nodded.

"Is everyone okay?  Anything broken?" Jackson asked his friends.  They all shook their heads.  "Good.  You have no idea how careful I had to be to not seriously hurt any of you!"

The group of friends crossed the bridge and set off across a field of tall grass as the last rays of sunlight vanished from the maroon sky and a radiant full moon peeked out from behind a lazily drifting cloud.

"Yeah, we totally appreciate that.  You've got excellent control.  To be honest, that was my biggest worry when we came up with this idea." Chris said.

"I still can't believe your parents let you do this, Jack." Nathan added.

Jackson laughed.  "My parents?!  I'd love to know what you guys told yours!"

Nathan looked up at him.  "Easy.  We just told them we were going out to help a friend get ready for something important.  And if you can more or less take on five armed guys like us all by yourself, you can definitely handle some elk with your family.  You'll do just fine on the hunt."

"Thanks." Jackson replied. "Hey, what do you mean 'more or less'?  I had you all at one point or another."

"Well now you know what you need to work on!  Not leaving a wounded but still dangerous hunter in play is a start." Ryan said.

"Don't worry; I'll be sure to remember that.  Next time…" Jackson gave Ryan a devious stare which Ryan met with a defiant face.

"Next time?  Sounds to me like you want a rematch."

"Tomorrow?" Jackson asked.

Ryan looked over at Nathan.  "Guys?" Nathan asked as he searched his friends' faces.  With as much fun as they had the first time, they felt willing to give it another go. "Count us in.  But don't expect us to go so easy on you!"

Everyone chuckled as Jackson's house came into view at the top of a hill.  The moon shone down on their path as they headed inside for the night.  Although Jackson could just as easily hunt in the dark, the truth was that he did feel tired.  Even though he didn't win, he was still grateful that he had friends willing to support him.  With all of the emotions and the excitement he felt earlier, it was only then that he realized the hidden joy behind the hunt.  He noticed it in himself and his friends as they hunted each other and felt the same tension of fighting for their survival.  Twitching at every sudden noise, noticing every sign of movement, desperately thinking on your feet to outwit the other party, and the ultimate surge of fear and courage that came with fighting for victory.  Instinct and preparation fusing together in a moment of extreme emotion that is seldom matched by any other experience.  He thought they would not understand what it felt like, but the smiles on their faces proved otherwise.  They too had enjoyed the chase, albeit in their own way.  Jackson smiled, baring his fangs as he did, content with knowledge that his friends had joined him in spirit.  The thrill of the hunt is too great a sensation to be enjoyed by a lone wolf.  As with many experiences, it is best when it is shared with the pack.
My entry for :iconwerewolvesatheart:’s latest contest.

The theme for the contest was “The Thrill of the Hunt” and it was a ton of fun to write.

Hundreds of pounds of natural power. Senses heightened well beyond the norm. Generations of instinct meeting advanced and complex thought processes. Adaptive and swift, the combination of intelligence and ability make werewolves perhaps the greatest predators in the world. However, when tactics are equaled and ability is compensated with technology and numbers, the relationship between predator and prey is subject to change at a moment’s notice. The outcome will be decided by any number of factors but one thing is certain: Nothing beats the thrill of the hunt.

Edit: Took second place.
© 2012 - 2024 WanderingGoose
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micheal65536's avatar
Ignore what everyone else is saying about about the non-lethal aspect of the hunt being revealed too soon. That's what made this story fun to read. From early on, the reader knows it's not about werewolf hunters trying to stalk werewolves with silver bullets or werewolves trying to maul humans that think straying into a werewolf's territory is a big joke. There are too many werewolf stories like that. This is clearly about a werewolf having fun with a group of friends, and that's what gives it the lighthearted feel that I enjoyed, while keeping the "hunting" aspects (stalking, strategising, and so on).