Chapter 1 - New In Town

Fairwood Forest has always been known as a famous place to hunt as well as camp. Many a ranger, hunter, as well as forest dweller has been seen to get hide or tail of the game. This was at least the case for several years until a particular hunt got out of control and harmed one of the participants. Now several years away from the incident, things have calmed down, at least on the surface. Reports of a new hunting crew have been sighted taking up residence at the far end of the forest's edge, overlooking the village, like a looming shadow, slowing creeping its hold on Canidid Town. The leader of this crew goes by the name of Mason Kichrane, self-proclaimed esteemed 12 time hunting champion extraordinaire. Followed by two loyal crew and his trusty dog Newt, he claims to rid of the forest of anything dangerous. However, that remains to be seen, if the most harmful thing is Mason and his crew or something that perhaps lurks within the forests deep inlets.

Mason drove up to his expansive cabin on the hill, pleased that it overlooked much of the forest without giving up much of his privacy. Upon pulling into his garage, Newt eagerly tore up the dust to greet him at the door, only to be stepped over by his unimpressed master.

"Stand down Newt…," Mason grumbled under his breath as he made his way to the door. Something was missing from Mason's itinerary, as he was lacking funds to get the new drill casing for his current project. Normally, funds weren't an issue as he could easily obtain from different kills he could pull in each week. He had heard that this forest would present a truckload of wealth from a single kill, but there was no such game to be found. At the very least the local wildlife showed promising pelts, but nothing more than decorative clothing for dresses and other vanity items. There was nothing near the advertised wealth from a single gain that he had heard of.

It's been 12 years since I came here. I think Nils and CNT are correct and we'll have to move on. All this nonsense of talking animals... BAH! As if I will grow old, waiting for some mythical creature to fall from the sky.

While rummaging through his thoughts, Mason looked up from the apple he was chewing on, as Nils Niedhart came through on the group's communicator.

"Big Tank, this is Battering Ram over."

Mason refrained from smiling as Nils would come up with offshoot names to pass the time. Annoying, but he had proved himself useful when hunting wild game up north in the mountains. Absentmindedly rubbing a long scar brought a smile to the chief's face.

"Nils, I told you not to make up names on the intercom! You can't just go around using unverified names! You better have something to report. Over."

Waiting for the response, he could feel the "You old stick in the mud" comment that Nils would normally respond with, seeing as it took longer than 2 seconds for him to reply.

"Princess out here-"

An outraged cry overrode Nils's next comment as Code Name Talon began to harshly scream into the communicator.

"I AM NOT A PRINCESS NOR A FEMALE NILS! YOU WILL USE MY CODE NAME TALON!"

It never failed. Like some deep urge too deep not to scratch, Nils would send CNT off the deep end. This would often result in several animals that were in traps, or just existing to suddenly end up skewered or set on fire..within the traps. CNT was barbaric to be sure, but just like Nils, he had a uncanny nack of always finding his mark, through hell or high water.

Mason commented, "CNT, Calm down, surely you ladies are not using this expensive time to ask me which one of you is prettiest? What do you have to report? Over."

After a few minutes' pause from evident fighting on the other end, Nils's voice came back on the communicator.

"Sir, you won't believe this. Apparently, Princess Talon is good for something. Got a fur sample here and it ain't from no fox or wolf. Over."

This give Mason a brief moment to pause. Not a fox or a wolf eh?...

"Go on. Over."

Apparently, Nils had stolen or retrieved CNT's communication device, as he excitedly blurted out the information.

"I see it, some kind of mink! It got away, but it had silver fur, was about 6 foot lo-wait, that can't be right..."

At this, Mason rubbed his forehead in disgust.

A six foot long mink? Who's paying top dollar for some damaged mongrel?

"Sir-" CNT continued excitedly. "This is what we have been waiting for these 7 years! Just think of that silver fur! Even the pelt would fetch a quarter mill on the market!"

Now he had Mason's full attention. Despite the condition of the mink outright, just that the pelt alone could fetch such a price, meant that the prey was very rare indeed. Standing up from his breakfast, he made his way to the door, Newt following just behind.

"Meet me at the post. I want to examine this in person!"