Hunt Race

By midday, the Guild had disappeared behind Kael.

The paved road gradually gave way to a dirt path lined with wheat fields that stretched toward the horizon.

A warm breeze carried the scent of freshly turned soil.

It was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Ahead, several farmers worked in silence, repairing broken fences.

As Kael drew closer, he noticed deep furrows carved through the fields.

Some crops had been completely flattened.

The damage hadn't been caused by tools.

Something heavy had torn straight through them.

He continued until he reached the largest farmhouse.

A broad-shouldered man stood outside, hammering a loose fence post back into place.

Kael approached.

"Excuse me."

The man looked up.

"You from the Guild?"

Kael nodded and handed over the wooden token.

The farmer examined it before returning it.

"So they finally sent someone."

"I'll handle the commission."

The farmer gave Kael a long look.

"...You're young."

Kael smiled faintly.

"I've heard that before."

The farmer let out a short laugh.

"I suppose I shouldn't judge."

He leaned against the fence.

"That cursed boar shows up every two or three nights."

"It tears through the fields, eats what it can, then disappears into Blackwood Grove before anyone can stop it."

"Has anyone tried hunting it?"

"A few."

"They scared it off once."

"It came back the next night."

Kael nodded.

"Has it attacked anyone directly?"

"Only when cornered."

The farmer pointed toward a barn.

"My eldest son got too close."

"He was lucky to escape with a broken leg."

Kael followed the direction of his finger.

The barn door bore a massive dent.

One look was enough to tell him the boar was far stronger than an ordinary wild animal.

"When was the last sighting?"

"Last night."

Kael crouched beside the damaged ground.

Fresh hoofprints.

Large.

Deep.

He pressed a hand into one of them.

The soil was still loose.

It hadn't been long.

"The trail's fresh," he murmured.

The farmer nodded.

"It won't stay away for long."

Kael stood.

"I'll track it before sunset."

The farmer folded his arms.

"Don't chase it too deep into Blackwood Grove."

Kael looked at him.

"Why?"

The farmer's expression grew serious.

"That forest belongs to the beasts."

"We farm the fields."

"They rule the woods."

"The smarter hunters never forget where that line is."

Kael glanced toward the dark tree line in the distance.

The entrance to Blackwood Grove was quiet.

Almost inviting.

He adjusted the strap of his pack and rested a hand on his sword.

"I'll bring your boar back."

Without another word, Kael followed the trail of hoofprints toward the edge of the forest, determined to finish his second hunt the right way.

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