Liam May || Issue 14 || February 25, 2025
The knight picked up his stick and shifted a log in the fire patiently awaiting the stranger’s monologue. The ranger sized up the knight one last time before beginning his analysis. “You must be skilled in battle, otherwise you wouldn’t have accepted a Hunt this difficult. You’re not overconfident, your mannerisms disprove that.” The ranger gestured to the knight’s shield, “You’re on the younger side for a Crested Knight, so you must have done something heroic to earn that.” The ranger paused, “Unless it isn’t your Crest because it isn’t a rooster rampant, it’s a Cockatrice rampant.” He smiled, “How did I do, Knight?” The knight folded his arms across his chest. “Fairly spot on.” The ranger’s grin widened, “Now a better question is why a knight Sworn to the Order Cockatrice is helping some poor village get rid of a beastie.” The knight shrugged, “They offered some money, and I was in a pinch.” The ranger lowered himself to the ground, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the log. “What a coincidence,” he muttered. He cracked open an eye, “Your turn.” The ranger frowned as the knight had paused mid-movement, the warrior scanning the tree line with careful and smooth motion. The ranger tilted his head, listening, but the only sound besides the crackling fire was the soft rustle of pine needles in the chill breeze. The horse shifted nervously, pawing at the ground. The knight slowly shifted into a crouch, coiled like a spring, his body taut with potential violence. The ranger didn’t move his head but silently picked up his bow and arrows. As the archer quickly tied the quiver to his belt, he whispered, “What is it?” The knight focused his senses and inhaled deeply. The air hung heavy with the scent of pine smoke and damp earth, tinged with the faint grease of the rabbit they had eaten. And yet there was the fainter, predatory musk scent of a Hunter. He couldn’t quite place the exact location, but it
was enough for now. When he opened his eyes, his hazel irises almost glowed amber in the firelight, something savage flaring deep in the pupils as he drew the mace from his belt. “We are surrounded.” And the warrior bared his teeth in a grin for the first time that night.



