Unyielding Hand

The air was silent, nothing but the rustling of the wind passing through the trees and the sound of deer grazing. Fifty yards from them, a predator lurked. It was a young man with a finely made bow. After several hours of tracking the herd, he finally found them feeding in the clearing. He scanned the herd until he found a suitable target, a young buck. It was on the smaller side, but that was what the man was looking for. He slowly moved forward to get a clear shot; his movements were well placed and hushed. Cautiously he drew an arrow and nocked it. Breathing deep, he pulled the bowstring tight. Remember to keep calm, don't let your excitement cost you your prey. He recalled his wife's words. The silence broke when he let go of the string. The arrow whizzed through the air and hit its mark. The young buck leapt into the air and fell dead. Frightened by the sudden commotion, the rest of the herd scattered. Even though his prey was dead, the young man waited in his hiding spot. He listened as the silence returned to the clearing. After he was sure there were no predators in the immediate area, he got up from behind the bushes and walked over to his prey. Kneeling beside the deer, he took a knife and started skinning. He examined the meat and organs to ensure the animal had no diseases. He took a moment to lick the edge of his blade and savored the blood's flavor. "Don't taste like there are any infections in the blood," he confirmed to himself. Smiling broadly, he started cutting the meat into smaller pieces. The man was clearly happy with his hunt; it would be enough to provide food for him and his wife for several weeks. Ordinarily, his wife would accompany him on his hunts, but she was with child, and he insisted she stay home. She was the reason he was still alive and the only reason for him to keep living. If anything were to happen to her, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. After he finished skinning his prey, he used the skin to secure the meat and started the journey home. He wasted no time and left, as there was still a chance that a predator would smell the blood of his fresh kill. He was not bothered by predators such as wolves or even bears. The creatures he was wary of were the werewolves. It was not a habit to hunt in werewolf territory; however, it had been the only deer herd in the area. He doubted that it would be a suitable excuse for them. He made an effort not to run, as it could cause a commotion that may draw unnecessary attention. His best option was a brisk walk, and it would allow him to take in the beauty of the surrounding nature. Maybe I could pick some flowers while I'm out. Looking at the sun, he brought up his hand. There were only two hours of daylight left, but he was not bothered by night; in fact, it was when he was most comfortable. He smiled again and inhaled deeply, taking in the scents around him. He paused. The air smelled of soot and coal. There was no doubt a fire had broken out somewhere, but what made him pause was the direction the smells were strongest. It was coming from his home. He dropped meat and sprinted towards his home as fast as possible. As he ran, the smell of smoke only grew stronger, confirming his fears. After a few minutes of running, a hellish blaze came into view. The fire had almost wholly enveloped his house, but he did not waste time thinking and rushed in. "Evelien! Where are you?" He called into the roaring flames. "I am here, my love!" Her voice came from his right. He rushed towards her voice, intent on saving her, but whatever hope he had was lost when he saw her. His heart broke seeing his wife covered with burns and trapped under a large beam. "You must leave, my dear," she breathed. "No, I can't leave you, I won't," he cried. "Alexander, my love, you must leave, or you too will perish," she said, vainly trying to push him away. "No," the tears streamed down his face. "My life is worth nothing. If I die, let it be beside the one I love." With tender hands, he took her face and rested his head against hers. He closed his eyes and embraced the raging inferno around them. The pain of burning alive was nothing compared to the pain he felt when he heard the love of his life breathe her final breath. *************************************************** Several hours later, he awoke in the middle of the forest. For a moment, he felt surprised that he had not died in the fire. It seemed that it had all been a dream. When he looked down at his charred clothes, it quickly became apparent that it was not a dream. If anything, it was a living nightmare. He got up to his knees and wept. "It's not every day you get to see the infamous ripper on his knees crying," came a deep voice. The stranger's presence caught him by surprise, but he did not have the will to face the unknown man. His arms and legs would not move, even if he wanted them to. It was as if all the strength had left his body, leaving him an empty husk. "Are you the one who saved me?" He asked between breaths. "That I am," the stranger answered. "Why? Why did you save me? Why didn't you leave me to die with my love? Why am I the one who gets to live?" He clenched his fists in a mixture of anger and sadness. "Because it was the right thing to do. I would have saved her too; however, she had already passed when I arrived." "You should have left me. I do not deserve to live; she was the only reason I chose to continue living. At least if I had died, I would have met her in the afterlife." "For someone so selfless, you sure are selfish," the stranger's voice seemed to come closer, "you stayed with her so she would not have to die alone, knowing that you may also die. But now, after she has passed, you seem to care about nothing but yourself." "She was my everything. I have nothing else to care about; now that she is gone, I have nothing." "She may be gone, but her memory will live on within you. As long as you live, so will her memory. Is that not something to care about? Is this what she would have wanted for you?" The stranger's words brought some comfort. It had never occurred to him to preserve her memory. He realized what the stranger said was true; he was being selfish. He had been so focused on joining her in death that he never thought what she would have wanted for him. "I guess you are right," he agreed, forcing himself to stand, "but I still wonder, what wicked god would take someone so pure and leave a monster to live on?" "It was no god. This was the doing of man, and I have a pretty good idea who." Alexander’s sadness instantly turned to rage. When he spun around to question the stranger, his words were stunted by surprise. The stranger was not a human as he had expected, but instead a white werewolf. Under normal circumstances, he might have been afraid to face a white wolf, but his anger was getting the better of him. "Who?" He demanded. "It is no single man but an organization. They call themselves the Huntsmen, and it is common for them to target supernaturals. Your wife was just unlucky enough to be caught in the middle of it." "How dare they! They killed her because they thought they might kill me? I will show them the error of their ways. I will kill every last one of them if I have to," he roared, turning his back to the wolf. "You will not be able to do it alone. They are not ordinary humans. They are trained to kill. You must become stronger; as you are now, you are too weak, and you will die." "I may not be as strong as a werewolf, but I have experience in hunting humans. These so-called Huntsmen will be no different." Without another word, he rushed into the forest in search of his new prey. Drawing on his experience, he quickly picked up on their trail. He found a small group of men armed with silver weapons. There was no doubt that they were Huntsmen; their equipment made it clear. He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer. My love, I am sorry for what I am about to do, but I must bring the men who took you from me to justice. This will be my last wicked ack, I swear.