Chương 39

Hunter Ellen Even though she'd been warned, Ellen hadn't quite been prepared for how cold this winter would be. She wasn't shivering, at least. The layers of fur and cloth kept her mostly warm, but her fingers kept begging for the shelter of her cloak. She obliged as much as she could, handing off her bow repeatedly to keep one inside warming while the other held her weapon.

The scarf she wore might be crude, but it served its purpose of keeping her face warm, leaving just her eyes peeking out from under the cloak's hood. The bundling up was warm, but when on the hunt she needed her fingers free. Even with them unencumbered, the combination of freezing weather and the unwieldy wardrobe had made her shots more difficult. Getting an arrow off smoothly and quickly was certainly possible in these clothes… just not without more practice she didn't have.

Which was the entire reason that she was stalking through the forest on foot anyway. Her Tracking Perk was subtle, but she'd learned to detect when it was in use, when it was helping her. Her eyes just… noticed things more easily, leaping over unbidden toward the tracks, or spoor, or in this case… tracks and blood. Hunting the stag she'd found by waiting patiently in ideal conditions, but failed to kill with one arrow. So tracking was the next option. Ellen flinched as she heard the faint roll of thunder above.

That would be just her luck… stuck in a snowstorm, far from home, while trying to track her prey. It wouldn't be so bad if she could catch the injured stag before the storm broke. Once the snow really started to fall, hunting it down would be much harder. She stopped and brought up the Settlement Interface. Some of the others weren't sure if it was useful, but she'd been meaning to show them the very simple trick she'd learned.

She wasn't sure if it was tied to her being a Landkeeper or not, but looking at the display could show a rough map of the area… including where the viewer was, and sometimes where other Ellens were. Ellen wasn't sure why it only showed the others sometimes, but once she figured that out it would be even more useful.

"Oh… no wonder I'm so tired," she muttered to herself. Her legs were starting to ache, and seeing where she was that made sense.

"I thought this looked familiar." According to the display, she was much closer to the village than to Anroll. She'd been chasing this wounded stag for hours, she knew that much. She hadn't realized it had run out of the designated area for her hunting, and into where the villagers would be. She'd have to find it in a hurry, or some other hunter might be lucky enough to score and take home her prize. The entire day would be wasted. Ellen let out a soft sigh, muffled by the scarf. She hesitated to continue, now.

She'd lose the buck, but would not risk revealing herself to any hunters. If they saw an unknown Ellen wondering around, a perceptive hunter would start to ask questions, and as far as she knew only Lauren, Tobias, and just recently Pauley were in on the secret. Of course there was always the chance that it was someone who hadn't met Village Ellen's so-called 'sister' and wouldn't think anything of it. That was unlikely, though.

After another moment of debate, Ellen tightened her scarf and kept moving after her prey. With her hood and scarf, only her rough build could be determined. She'd just be a mysterious hunter. Gossip-worthy, yes, but nothing that a little smooth-talking from Merchant and Village couldn't handle. Bundled up as she was, her hair was hidden, and that was the only part of her that was distinctive. Redheads were rare in this region, and she was the only one she'd seen among the villagers.

But if all they saw was a bundled-up hunter… that was curious but nothing special. Anyone who glimpsed her may not even think to talk about it, if she did nothing unusual. Her footsteps crunched softly on the layer of snow, lending an audible sense of progress to her pursuit. The deer couldn't have gotten much farther with this amount of blood loss… she was surprised it had managed to make it this far. Clearly, her arrow had not gone as deep as she'd thought. She paused.

The winter had left the forest quieter than usual, with the occasional slide of snow from branches or the groan of a tree settling its weight under the carpet of white. In the distance, she heard a crow, and dismissed it as unimportant. Too far away to matter. There. She heard it at last. The sound of something crashing through the undergrowth, much like a deer staggering on its last legs and foregoing even the attempt at stealthy flight. A desperate last attempt to escape pursuit.

Shifting from her more careful gait into a run, Ellen bolted toward the sound. She wasn't sure if it was her experience, or some passive and unlisted ability of the Landkeeper Class, but she felt even faster on the snow than ever before. If not for her boots, she could have run even faster. The durable but heavy leather felt clumsy on her feet in these moments of leaping and striding across the snow. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Over the crashing noises through dead and dry undergrowth, she heard a panicked cry. A human cry. And just after, some shrill porcine squeals. That was not her deer. Ellen leaped over a now-familiar stream, landing hard and angled to the side. Her boots slid on the frozen ground, skidding down the barely-visible trail to end at a long, flat portion. The slight ledge gave her better visibility to see what was going on. A young villager was running for his life, she could see that.

He was wheezing and out of breath, and not dressed for the winter. No, wait… Ellen corrected herself. He had been dressed for the winter, but the young man was now flushed and panting, down to just his lower layers. Those weren't things someone wore out normally. Behind him, gaining rapidly, a boar had a scarf tangled on one tusk. The charging beast snorted and squealed angrily, and Ellen really had no idea what the man had done to pull such focused rage upon him.

He'd clearly tossed his coat and scarf away, trying to distract the boar… and the fact that he was still alive said that it had worked, at least for a little while. Just not long enough. Ellen didn't hesitate. She drew an arrow, nocked it, and drew her bow. She led the boar just enough, she hoped… because she needed to make a deep wound for it to even slow down. The eye was too small a target, armored by the skull around it, so she aimed for right behind the neck.

The arrow was loosed directly at the running youth, but by the time it completed its flight, it buried into the boar behind him. She'd lead the shot almost perfectly. Almost perfectly. Ellen wasn't one to presume she'd get the shot she wanted. Even before she saw the result, she was looking about for an escape plan in case the boar changed targets. She'd already spotted a tree just down the slope, its lowest branch within reach.

She tossed her bow to the side—hopefully it wouldn't be damaged—and leapt for the branch even before she knew that the arrow buried into the boar's haunch instead of its neck. In midair, her Awareness told her she'd made a potentially fatal mistake. Her hand landed on the branch… and it snapped immediately. It was dead wood, and she'd been too hurried to notice until she was already in motion.

The splintering noise of it giving way was already being dismissed from Ellen's mind as she tumbled to the hard, frigid ground with a grunt. She heard the thundering and squealing behind her, and she could only presume the boar had changed targets. A twist about, and she drew her knife, gritting teeth behind her scarf. The boar was charging her. Ellen braced a foot on the young tree behind her and prepared to push off. She had one chance to survive this.

If she could leap over it high enough, the attempt to gore her may not penetrate her multiple layers of clothing, and she could knife the beast at the back of the skull, where it would have a chance to penetrate and be a finishing blow. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she realized, in the intervening fractions of a second, that she was loving this. The thrill of the hunt. The danger. The moment. She leapt.

Anroll Greylan The road had been miserable, and Anroll knew that it would be some time before merchants would return. His own steps had barely dented the layers of snow and ice, but most—no, let's be honest, no merchant would have the variety of magic and Perks that let him walk along the road without struggle. He could move more easily and faster along terrain like this than a wagon or horse, but few matched the abilities of a Gold Tier adventurer.

Even with those advantages, his legs were tired and his back was starting to ache by the time he began to pass the first house of the village. His questions in town had turned up a few sightings of a 'redheaded girl' who showed up, bought an unreasonably large amount of goods, and hauled them back to this village by cart.

A check with the local Guild had also confirmed that Ellen had been in there, but despite his name pulling so much weight, the Guildmaster had steadfastly refused to say anything more than she'd been seen there. Anroll had been forced to use his Blood Tracking Ability once more, to confirm that Ellen was in this village. It hadn't worked as cleanly as before, with an odd uncertainty in the direction, but it was close enough to the village that he was sure someone there would have seen her.

He would have to find her the old-fashioned way, after that. Presuming his Ability was telling the truth. Her card had showed another Class he'd never heard of— Spellstrider. From the sound of it, that was a spellcasting Class, and he knew Ellen had never studied much magic. So he did what some would call blasphemy, and doubted the System. But Anroll was one of the few people in the world who knew the System was not infallible.

His weary thoughts were swept away as he heard shouting ahead, and several people spilled from the inn. They were shouting, but it sounded to be panic and disarray instead of anger. One shaken youth was being hustled away, pale-faced, while another was being shoved out of the building by a large man in a wide-brimmed hat. None of them were properly dressed for being outside.

"I can help her!" The man argued.

"She saved my son's life!"

"No." The larger man growled.

"Go home. We'll handle it. You've done all you can, it's in Celeste's hands now." A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Anroll's stomach.

"Let me pass," he growled to the large man. He could already tell that the answer would be no, so he simply brushed the larger, more well-muscled man aside like a child. No one could stop Anroll Greylan from going where he wanted to.

"HEY!" He ignored the shout, staring instead at the table. The bloody table. The trail of blood leading to the table. The girl on the table, eyes opened and lifeless, staring right at him.

"Ellen," he whispered. The hand on his shoulder let go, abruptly. The man and woman who had just stepped back—realizing the girl was dead—raised their eyes in shock. None of them tried to stop Anroll as he staggered forward.

"Damn it, Pops… you said she was safe," he whispered.

"H-how did it happen?"

"A wild boar," Ellen said, stepping in from the back room.

"It'll be all right, Uncle. She saved someone. I think she wanted that." He laughed hoarsely, "Yeah… that sounds like her. But if I'd been here… if I'd gotten here just a little earlier…" The large man patted his shoulder as Anroll stared at the unseeing corpse of his only niece. The vivacious and lively girl he'd left with too many stupid, heroic ideas.

"Sit down, let me get you a drink," Ellen murmured, tugging his arm to guide him numbly to a chair.

"I should have been here," he whispered, rubbing at one eye.

"If I'd just moved a little faster…"

"It will be okay," Ellen insisted. It finally sank in what he was hearing.