Draft 4 – 28 July 2025 (C004/D004)
Hunter approached the heavily entangled gnolls with no misconceptions. They could speak, but they were animals notwithstanding.
Fierce growls and glaring eyes tracked him as he circled the densely packed thicket of tangled canines and twisted vegetation firmly rooted in the soil, but they seemed to have dropped out of bloodlust — which was helpful. Their clipped ear tips and warpaint identified them as Moon Pack — a pack he knew well. With a little luck, he might be able to get some answers.
Hunter calculated the direction of the breeze and stopped upwind. Moving in close, he opened his mouth and exhaled, allowing his limited scent to wash over them. Their noses flared involuntarily as their brains took in the information. Hunter’s interest was in the pack leader alone. He hoped his scent would provoke a memory.
“Grrrrbu̇f,” Hunter said, addressing the largest beast in its primitive canine language.
The grrrrbu̇f’s ears picked up and swiveled toward him. Then they laid back flat as the pack leader’s eyes narrowed and his upper lip curled back quivering over sharp yellow teeth.
“Moon Pack far from home,” Hunter continued with a string of barks and growls. “Why this place?”
The surge of bloodlust was subsiding. Their struggle with Autumn’s entanglement spell was wearing them down. Their systems were crashing and they were all beginning to pant. “Grrrrbu̇f slaved,” the pack leader growled with diminished intensity. “Pack slaved. Taken from White Mountain.”
Hunter considered the response. Gnolls don’t lie. But they speak only one language and, outside of their own activities, they understand very little. “Who slaved Grrrrbu̇f?” he asked.
“You pack slave Grrrrbu̇f.”
His suspicions confirmed, Hunter weighed sand in an hourglass against the slim likelihood that they might know why. Then he addressed the pack in the traditional way.
“Grrrrbu̇f. Strong Grrrrbu̇f. Many kills. Much meat. Many bones. Strong victory.”
Grrrrbu̇f inhaled deeply, puffed out his chest. “Release me,” he growled, baring his teeth again.
“Soon,” Hunter promised. “We go. Then Grrrrbu̇f go. Keep meat. Keep all things. Strong victory.”
Hunter walked back to the camp, passing a slack-jawed LT, who had witnessed the exchange. “You get them all?” Hunter asked Scout, nodding toward the pile of corpses around the coffle chain.
“All but one,” she replied walking backwards, dragging a corpse by the heels.
He nodded. “Fraid that one’s in the river.”
“Should I get it?” she offered.
“Naw,” he shook his head. “Too risky.” He turned to Autumn. “How are the kits?”
“Alive.” Autumn shrugged. “Confused. Terrified.”
Hunter paused for a moment considering what to do next. At no point had he imagined the possibility that this hunt would end with him being responsible for children. Obviously, he wasn’t going to let the gnolls have them. He also wouldn’t take them to The Shadows. Nor could he take them back to Old Mill.
“You’re just gonna let those animals eat the dead?” LT demanded, finding his tongue.
“I think we needa let that happen,” Hunter relied. “Gotta look like there were no survivors.”
LT appeared to appreciate the logic of Hunter’s unfolding plan. It was a repulsive notion, but Hunter felt it was the right thing to do.
“What about the horses?” LT asked.
“Gonna to have to leave them, too,” Hunter responded.
“And let the gnolls eat them?”
“Gnolls ain’t eat horses… less they starving.”
Once again, LT paused to process the information then moved on.
“Wait a minute,” said LT, stopping. “What am I going to ride?”
“Dead men don’t ride horses,” Hunter said over his shoulder. Then he stopped and turned to face the young man. “Unless you’re one of them” —his head tilted toward the corpse chain— “dead is better than alive right now.”
Both men locked eyes in silence for several moments. LT’s mouth opened but words did not escape. His head titled almost imperceptibly. Then his mouth closed and Hunter went back to work.
“They’s a village up the hill,” he said to Scout. “Abandoned but some buildings still standin. Take as much grub as y’all can carry. Hide these kits.” Then lowering his voice and nodding in LT’s direction he added: “Make sure everybody gets some rest.”
“Sure,” she agreed. Her firelit eyes acknowledged the unspoken part above the mask covering her face.
“Can you cover their tracks?” Hunter asked Autumn.
“Much as I can,” the druid replied.
“Do your best to slow them down,” Hunter said, acknowledging the limitations of Autumn’s magic. “Day after tomorrow, they be lookin.”