When Kroe opened his eyes again, the clearing was still and quiet. Gree’s muscular body had been snapped in two, bending backward in a devilish position, and Kanto and the others sprawled out among the grass in equally macabre orientations.
‘Kroe looked down at the spear still gripped tightly in his hand, and he heard a twig snap behind him.
Just as he had done with the Holwrunner the day prior, he instinctively turned and hurled his spear. How he wished this one had been as crooked as the last. If only it had missed it’s target.
Obo grabbed at the spear now lodged deep into his chest as he gasped for air and collapsed to the ground. Kroe’s legs finally began to work as he dashed over to the veteran overseer’s side.
“No, no, no… this can’t be happening.” Kroe said, the acia on his face being washed off by a stream of tears.
Obo struggled for breath as Kroe tried to remove the wooden javelin from his body. “Why… why did you freeze?”
The old Drabatan’s body went limp and he exhaled one final time.
Kroe wailed aloud and sunk down to the ground. His cries were disrupted by a sound behind him. He whipped around to see if, by some miracle, his brother had survived, despite being torn down the middle.
Instead, he saw the Gundark perched above the cave. It watched him for a moment longer before jumping down and running back inside, and ‘Kroe could see that it was bleeding. One of the warrior’s must have injured it in some way.
Kroe grabbed a large stick from one of the splintered trees and tore a piece of his Holwrunner cloak off. He wrapped it on the end of the branch and covered it with the quite flammable acia mix before setting fire to it with the spark of two nearby stones.
He furiously ran into the cave, torch in one hand and spear into the other, following the trail of purple blood.
It took him mere minutes to reach the back of one of the passage ways, where the massive creature was hunkered down over a large nest.
He could not think anymore, and instead instinctively threw the torch at the nest, lighting it on fire and distracting the mother. In one swift motion, he leapt towards the beast and drove the spear deep into her throat.
The Gundark let out a deep, guttural cry before collapsing into the flames. And that’s when Kroe noticed the pod of young Gundark huddled in the corner, avoiding the fire. Kroe stood over them, the fire reflecting in is widened eyes. This time, he would not freeze.
A moment later, he emerged from the cave, covered in thick, purple blood. He scanned the area, just in case any of the party had survived the ordeal, and realized Kanto’s body was no longer there. Had he been alive? And if so, was he headed back towards the village?
Kroe knew the clan could not find out what had transpired here today, or he would be stripped of his birthright, his family and the clan would disown him, and there was a very good chance he would be beaten or executed for killing Obo.
He needed to beat Kanto to the village, or better yet, catch him. He didn’t know what he would do to him when he did, but he was desperate to make sure that the village must never know of what truly transpired here today.
He poured another bag of acia over his head and took off sprinting through the forest. Kanto had to have been injured from the skirmish, so there was no way he was making good time. Kroe just had to outpace him.
What should have been a three hour long trip felt like only a few minutes as Kroe ran. And ran. And ran.
But he never saw or heard the injured hunter. And before he knew it, he had reached the edge of the village.
Where there should have been a celebration waiting for him, there was an empty stage. Instead of cheers, Kroe heard the sounds of wailing and crying emanating from the village. Somehow, Kanto had beaten him back.
It was over.
Kroe heard a rustle in the bushes behind him and he turned to see his mother, her silky braids and small, black eyes illuminated by the moonlight.
“How did you find me…?” he asked.
She stared at him for a moment, and as much as he wanted her to approach him. For her to embrace him and tell him everything was going to be okay. She did not.
“Son, am I not the greatest tracker in this village? You did not even attempt mask your presence.”
“I take it Kanto beat me?”
“He did…” she said, trailing off and looking at the blood and acia covering her son from head to toe. “He says you killed Obo, and just stood there like a coward while your brother died before you.”
Kroe could find no feasible way to defend himself, and felt a lump form in his throat as he tried his hardest to hold back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He opened his mouth, moving his body in a pleading motion with as much sincerity as he could muster, but no words ever escaped his lips.
“I see…” she said, taking his silence as an admission of guilt. She turned and looked out at the moon hanging low above the village.
“You know what will happen to you if you go inside that village, don’t you?”
Kroe simply nodded, having given up on his attempts of verbalization.
“Your father is beyond reasoning now. He has lost both of his heirs in one night. You have not only broken tradition, but your cowardice lead to the deaths of some of our finest warriors, and your own kin. According to the ceremonial laws, you are hereby excommunicated and will only be reinstated into the family if you are ever to die a warrior’s death on the field of battle…” her words trailed off again as she looked into her son’s eyes one final time.
“You must go now, Kroe’Draba’Gechi. You have dishonored us all.”
For a moment he hesitated, looking deep into her eyes to see if there was any remorse behind her words.
“Go!”
Kroe somberly nodded as he turned around to face the forest again. Everything had suddenly gone numb, and he stopped feeling penitence or rage or desperation. Life as he knew it was over, and he had suddenly, and finally, come to that realization.
“Goodbye mom…” he said hoarsely and ran back off into the forest.
He heard his mother collapse to the ground and begin sobbing, and he knew immediately that that was probably one of the hardest thing she had ever had to do. Yet he did not turn around. He did not glance back at his mother, or to see his village one last time. He just ran.
As day broke, he realized he had long since left the Designated Regions. He had wandered aimlessly all night, but about an hour before sunrise, he had noticed a large tower glowing in the distance. Up ahead, he saw a small Imperial spaceport. He had no money or weapons, so the only thing he could do now was try and sneak aboard one of the outgoing ships, which was exactly what he managed to do.
It was not hard to board one of the large cargo transports, and he weaved his way among the shipping containers before making a seat on the cold, hard, dark floor of the vessel.
As he sat in silence, only one thought plagued his mind. The one thing he would vow to live by. The only lesson he had learned from this whole tragedy that had sprung on him in an instant.
“He would never again freeze. If he did, it was over.”
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