The 2nd Human

Cold was the morning, since the fire died in the night. Not even the embers could be stirred back to life. With a grumble and a grunt, the young man rose from the pile of cured furs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palms of his hands. A loud yawn, a back scratch, and some lip-smacking were the only sounds in the cave.

He made his way outside, grabbing his fur-lined leather clothes, a spear, and his bow and arrows on the way. Though the forest outside was free of snow, it was still bitterly frigid. The wind whipped by, and he felt the cold through his cloak, down through his bones and even, to him at least, into his soul.

Following the old deer trail, he made his way to the first of his traps, a small wooden cage meant for rabbits, squirrels, and such. He moved on since it was empty, quickly, surely, and quietly, towards the next trap. Also empty. Down the list he went, spending over three hours checking all the various ‘surprises’ he’d hidden throughout his portion of the forest, finding all of them like the first: empty. All save the last one.

As he neared, the sounds of coarse laughter reached his ears, along with yelping and crying. His bow was strung with practiced ease, and an arrow came notched as he angled around the trees, searching through the gaps for the source, and a good vantage point.

Just my luck, he thought. Those dang diamond dogs. I’m gonna hafta make my point again!

As the trio of dogs continued toying with whatever was caught in the trap, they failed to notice a figure step out from the shadows cast by the numerous trees. They did not, however, fail to notice the arrow that embedded itself in a tree next to the head of their leader, the dark-grey furred one with a red vest. Nor did they fail to hear a voice speak in a deep, growling, menacing tone.

“Hey there, fellas. Ya know, it’s weird. I could’ve sworn I told ya to stay away from my traps! Now, are ya gonna leave, or do I finally get myself a diamond dog fur coat?”

Rover spoke up, his trembling voice splattering his fear, “H-h-hunter! We-we-we was j-j-j-just-”

“Leaving.”

Rover’s ear twitched, a nervous tic developed from a notch he’d gotten from their last run-in with the hunter. The three disappeared in clouds of dust before he finished speaking, a set of dirt mounds where they once stood.

The man spat to the side. “Lousy mutts.”

“Hey! Thanks for scaring off those jerks, but could you get me down?”

He looked up to his ironwood-vine snare, finding a small diamond dog hanging upside down. A dark green vest covered the corgi lookalike as if it were a dress, while a cherry red gem hung from the ring on the collar.

“Nope. Ya wanna get down? Get yourself down,” he spoke, not even looking back as he walked away.

“Hey! You got some nerve leaving me hanging up here! This is your trap! You're responsible for this mess! You're-”

He continued walking even as he interrupted her tirade, “-leaving you behind, Miss Priss.”

“Wait! Hold on!” she whined.

Lousy diamond dogs. Can’t leave me alone. Nooo, that’d be too easy! Why the heck weren’t they trying to get her down? Ain’t she a packmate or something? Looks kinda young, talks different. Mayb-

His ears grabbed hold of his feet, freezing him in place as he listened to the sound of suppressed crying. As fingers clenched into a fist around his bow, his arm trembled in exasperation, teeth pulled into a grimace, and eyebrows scrunched so close together they became a unibrow. Hunter turned back around, snarling various vile curses under his breath.

The little diamond dog tried to stop her tears as she watched Hunter step out of the shadows. She still couldn’t see his face, hidden in his cowl, but she got a really good look at his eyes when his hand snapped out and gripped her collar like a vice. They were a deep blue, so dark they were almost black.

He could feel her tremble through her collar as he growled out his words through clenched teeth, “Listen, and listen hard, runt. This place’s got a small timberwolf pack roaming ‘round. Unless ya wanna paint the grass red, ya better git!”

She was pushed back with his last word, and ended up swaying back and forth. He turned his back and broke into a lope that carried him quickly through the darkening wood, and before the little dog could respond.

The cave came into view faster than he expected, until he noticed how hard he was breathing. Hunter went into the back, setting up another fire with some of the logs he’d been collecting, as well as some dry grass. As he washed up in the small spring down the only side passage, Hunter heard the telltale sound of timberwolves on the hunt, and rolled his eyes.

I told her to git, he thought grumpily.

He dried off, dressed for bed, and was almost asleep when the sounds of labored breathing and four quickly moving feet run down the cave’s entrance, stopping when a newly familiar figure came into the firelight.

He glared at the miniature intruder, “You.”

The little diamond dog solidified the retort in her mind, took a deep breath, and then promptly passed out in a ragged, bloody and torn mess, her eyes having rolled up into her head. Hunter groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose ‘tween his thumb and forefinger, until he heard the timberwolves’ hunting call sounding very, very close by.

Couldn’t’ve been a manticore. Nooo. Couldn’t’ve been a bugbear. Nooo. Couldn’t’ve been a hydra, a worg, or even a chupacabra. It had to be timberwolves! It’s gonna take me weeks to get that smoke-stench outta my stuff!

***

Why're my eyelids so heavy? Why does everything hurt? And why do I feel… warm?

She struggled to open her eyes, intent on knowing what had happened. All she could remember was running, fear, anger… and then passing out. Her eyes snapped open as a memory flashed through her mind: the hunter!

He was frowning as he looked down at her, arms and legs crossed as he sat. She gasped, tried to sit up, and failed, groaning as every muscle ached and burned. Parts of her felt as though a red-hot iron had been pressed to them.

“Moving around’s a bad idea, runt. Lie down.”

She turned her head and glared at him. “I am not a pet, you… whatever!”

He rolled his eyes. “Way to talk to the guy who saved your fluffy tail. Three times.”

She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “Explain.”

He did, holding up a finger for each point, “One: I got those mutts off ya. Two: I took care of the timberwolves ya led right to my home. Three: I doctored ya up. You’re welcome.”

Her lip curled in a snarl. “Why?”

Frustrated, he quickly stretched a hand and flicked the tip of her nose, making her yip cutely as she wiggled it back and forth.

“I don’t hunt folks that talk, much as I’d like to sometimes. Far as I know, ain’t a thing I could use outta ya, ‘cept maybe the bones, and I ain’t hassling myself with throwing away the rest.”

One of her eyebrows quirked up, confused and curious. “You mean to tell me the only reason you saved me was because I'd be less inconvenient?”

He nodded once, and she closed her eyes and furrowed her brow. “It would've been easier to just let the timberwolves eat me.”

She turned to stare at him, raised herself up on an elbow, and he snorted, “Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?!”

He gave her a searching look before answering, “Ya ever seen a timberwolf die? They don’t. The more they kill, the stronger they get, and they ain’t alive. Magic? Yeah. Natural? No. Hydras, manticores, bugbears, blah, blah, blah… Half magic, half nature. Timberwolves… ain’t right. Can’t even use them for firewood.”

The diamond dog tilted her head. “I thought you said they couldn’t be killed?”

He took a deep breath and sighed, feeling like a professor with dim student, “Even though ya can’t kill them, ya can destroy them. But the smoke that comes outta those things can make ya sick, and the stank can last for weeks if it gets in your stuff.”

She laid back down with a huff. “Good explanation, but your grammar sucks.”

He shrugged a single shoulder. “Don’t rightly care, Miss Priss.”

She growled as her pupils narrowed into feral slits, ears down in anger, “That's not my name!”

He stared into her purple eyes just as intensely as he leaned forward, almost nose-to-snout. “’Kay. What’cha called?”

The staring contest went on for a full minute before she blinked, and turned her head to the side, ears down and back, “I'm… Sage. Sage Halfblood.”

The human nodded once, leaned back, and reached out a hand. “Hunter Knighte.”

Sage looked sideways at his hand, before leaning over and giving it a sniff. Salty from sweat… leather and wood from his equipment…fresh blood from his injuries… and… what is that smell? I can’t quite put my claw on it. Frustration, distrust, curiosity and… something…

After she finished sniffing, Hunter rose to his feet, and walked over to a small box near the cavern wall while Sage watched him.

“What're you doing?” she asked, curious.

“Getting supplies. ‘Bout time to clean your wounds,” he replied without turning, returning with three vials full of liquid: one a dark red, one a milky white, and one clear, as well as a small square of cloth, a cotton swab, and a small handful of leaves.

Sage looked down as her blanket was removed, to see her collar and vest had been removed. She blushed, making her red fur stand out even more against the white.

“Where're my clothes?!” She shrieked.

Hunter rolled his eyes as he scratched his beard. “Drying by the fire.”

“Why?!”

“They were wet.”

“Why?!”

“Washed ‘em.”

“Why?!”

“Dirt and blood stains mess up sewing. Now hush, puppy,” he scolded, removing the leaves packed around Sage’s upper right arm, exposing the patch of furless skin to the air. Three red, pencil-thick lines ran diagonally around it.

Sage looked as he uncorked the clear vial. “What’s that?”

Hunter pressed the cloth over the vial, upending it once and quickly. He brought the cloth close to her nose. “Water.”

The little diamond dog only winced once as he cleaned off her wound. After corking the vial, he opened the milky one, and dipped the cotton swab into it.

“What's tha-”

Her question was interrupted as Hunter applied the swab to her wound, which caused her to hiss and whine out in pain.

It feels like salty, electric lemon juice!

As much as she wanted to move, Sage caught the look he was giving her, and did her best not to. She clenched her eyes shut as a few tears fell, and her breathing quickened its pace.

Finished with that, he opened the final vial, using the other end of the swab. Sage felt a cool, refreshing breeze blow across the gashes as Hunter applied the red liquid. Her eyes, both angry and thankful, caught his after he stoppered the small bottle.

“What was in those bottles?”

Hunter gave her a small, slightly satisfied smirk as he replied, “Manticore venom and hydra’s blood.”

The blood drained from her face as she screamed, “Are you insane?!”

He looked up at the ceiling for a few moments, tapping a finger against his jaw, before his eyes returned to Sage. “Kinda, yeah.”

“Why'd you even think using those things was safe?!”

Hunter winced at her volume as he clapped his hands over his ears. When Sage had calmed down, he removed his hands, and gave her a pointed look.

“Manticore venom's like iodine. Cleans cuts, stops bleeding. Hydra’s blood makes ya heal faster.”

Sage looked at him as if he had made fish noises, “What idiot told you that?! Those things could kill me!”

He gave her a look that spoke volumes. “Learned it from a zebra. Stuff’s only bad if ya drink it, or get a shot. Long as ya don’t take sip or get poked with the stuff, it’s good in small bits.”

“Where're you going?” Sage asked as she watched him walk towards the fire.

“Getting breakfast,” he replied without turning around.

“What is it?”

Hunter let out a loud sigh, then returned with two wooden spoons and steaming bowls. “Chicken, carrot, and potato soup.”

“I’m not hungry,” she huffed.

Hunter shrugged. “Don’t care. Ya got hurt pretty bad. Sooner ya eat, sooner ya get better, sooner ya leave.”

One of Sage’s ears perked up, as the other went out to the side. “And where, exactly, am I supposed to go?”

“Where ya were headed, or back where ya came from. Don’t matter which to me.”

“How do I do that when I don't know where I am?” she sneered.

Hunter just stared at her with an expressionless face. “Ya want breakfast or not?”

Sage rolled to her side and stared at the cave wall, ears flat against her head as she pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.

“Fine,” he muttered, placing the bowl and spoon within her arm’s reach. Sage listened to the sounds of packing, and footsteps that faded into the distance.

I can't trust that thing. Using that stuff… what was it thinking?

***

Hunter was thinking how much of a pain the runt was, as he mentally complained while he checked and reset his traps. Can’t even say thanks. Grumpy little Miss Prissy Pants. “That stuff could kill me!” Kill her my aunt Zelda! Things work just fine. Sure, the venom’ll give ya nightmares for a few days, but still! Least I caught some rabbits.

After finding nothing more in the last trap, Hunter made his way back to the cave, hunger gnawing at him like a dog with an old bone. He froze as he neared the entrance, having heard the sound of unfamiliar voices mingled in a cacophony of noise.

As silently as he could, Hunter crept into his home, an arrow nocked to his bow and ready to fly free, as he began to discern the differences in dialogue.

“You’re going to tell us!” said a strong, masculine voice

“No I won't!” Came Sage’s almost girlish voice.

“You will!”

“I won't!”

“Will too!”

“Will not!”

“Will too!”

“Will not!”

“Will-”

The banter was interrupted by the sound of a pimp-slap, promptly followed by, “Ow! What was that for?”

A raspy-voiced, irate female answered, “Oh, gee, let me think… Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re acting like a dweeb!”

Wait a sec! I know that voice…

Hunter rounded the corner, and confirmed his suspicions.

Sage huddled in the back, maybe forty feet away, cornered by a male lion/eagle griffon who towered over her, with a female version standing next to him, giving the male a look of irritation.

Hunter could not believe his eyes, as he stared. “Gilda?”

The griffon turned at his voice, and her eyes widened. “Hunter?!”

His eyes grew darker, his bow coming up to aim at her chest, as he snarled out, “What're you doing here?!”

Gilda’s eyes widened further in surprise and confusion, before narrowing in anger. “Looking for you, you dweeb! Why else would we be in the Everfree Forest?!”

Hunter arched an eyebrow slightly. “We?”

Gilda thumbed her claw at the male griffon. “This is my cousin, Garrett.”

Garrett turned and gave Hunter an indifferent look, “’Sup.”

Hunter nodded to him, then turned his attention back to Gilda. “Why are ya looking for me?”

“’Cause I owe Rainbow Dash a favor, and she decided to cash in. You know she’s been looking for you, right? The others too?”

Hunter pulled the arrow back farther as his voice dropped deeper. “Now why would The Six be looking for me?”

Gilda’s eyes softened just a bit. “They’re worried about you-”

She was interrupted by an arrow whizzing by, just inches from her face, as it shattered against the cave wall behind her. Gilda looked to the broken remnants, then to Hunter, a retort on her beak, which faded as she saw his face, rage blazing across it like a wildfire. Garrett roared out, and charged. Hunter’s teeth ground against each other as he reached behind, and grabbed his spear.

Just as Garrett pounced, Hunter whipped his spear around and broke it across the side of the griffon’s head, and knocked him into the nearby wall, out cold and bleeding from both sides of his noggin, but still breathing. He turned to look at Gilda again, his breathing heavy, unleashing the pent-up anger he’d been holding back for months in a roaring voice that echoed throughout the cave.

“Worried? Worried?! Those mares ain’t worrying ‘bout some… thing like me! They even tell ya why I left?! No? Then let me. I left ‘cause not even Pinkie Pie wanted me ‘round!”

Gilda took a step back in surprise, but strengthened her stance as she spoke firmly, “Dude, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not leaving here without you. Even if you are acting like a dweeb.”

Hunter only stared at her as he trembled in anger, but deflated as he sighed, nodding to Gilda. “Fine. Ya win. I’ll go with ya. Just… lemme pack up some stuff, ‘kay?”

Gilda nodded, and watched as he packed what few belongings he had into his beat-up, dark green backpack. As he packed up the medical supplies, he left one jar out, filled with a bluish-lavender colored powder.

Hunter grasped the jar in his hand as he shouldered the hefty backpack, then held out the jar to Gilda as she approached.

Gilda raised an eyebrow in confusion, as she took the jar in her talons. “What’s this?”

He gave the griffon a resigned look. “Ya wanna know why I left. Answer’s in the jar.”

Curiosity prodded Gilda, caused her to open the jar, and take a sniff. As confusion stumbled into her mind, she took an even deeper sniff.

Her confusion grew as she handed the jar back to him. “I don’t smell anything.”

Hunter gave her a sad smile. “Ya ain’t supposed to.”

Gilda tilted her head to the side, and raised an eyebrow. “Waddaya mean… by…?”

The griffon couldn’t finish her sentence as she slumped to the cavern floor, unconscious.

Hunter’s smile grew less sad, if only a bit. “Like I said. Ya ain’t supposed to.”

Sage, having been quiet the entire time, looked at him in horror. The blood drained from her face, her heart hammered in her chest, as she began to hyperventilate, and quickly passed out.

“Great,” Hunter grumbled. “Now I gotta carry her and my stuff. Just... great.”