1 The Curse

The dawn is shifting now.
I can feel it rise and fall, all in a blink of the storm's eye. But sometimes it lingers, like the hold on my fate. I know not what lingers inside me.

Nor do I know how fast he's running.

I could not tell how many days it had been, for here it is always night. I did know, however, how much time had passed. I knew when and where prey would emerge and at, approximately, what time they would appear.
This new sight was uncanny. I could see their tentacle arms wisp about, and the tendril muscles flex. I watched their necks stretch and shrink. Sight locked onto the veins.

I'm going to lose him.

The morning winds are a comrade now, another lost soul in a world it doesn't understand. It flies with me, with wings unbound to anything. I wish I had its freedom.
Perhaps I do. In the most recent times passing, my pace in the land has changed. My speed alone is merciless and my presence is still not known.except to the birds.

The trees return to familiarity. He's mine.

They still follow me, but this time they're silent. They're always silent. As if their voices were cut out of their own skeletal throats. A silenced vengeance. The owner of such a knife would only be of this world and not my latter. Thus, he.she.it, can be found. If it can be found, it can be hunted. And thus, I hunt.
I had been following this prey for four nights and six days. I say this because the order of the day is difficult to tell, when there stands a storm every hour. Not that I mind the darkness. It is always inviting. Never discriminatory.
Anyway, this is my mission. To hunt.

I heard his soft patter against the brush, my swift paws leaping over his tracks. The chase had been like this. I was a hound at his back. A blood hound, if I ever could be one. But I had help.
My new sight spotted him, a flash of violet cloak, through a wall of twisted trees. The longsword was drawn in a flash and the wall fell in splinters. Sensing my presence, he was gone, dashing north, by the time I hit the brush. Too slow.
Bam! The speed struck and I was off. I could smell him. Literally, his stench filled my nostrils and I fed off it. His own stench commanded my turns and leaps. He was close. I could feel him. I could taste him.
There! I rocked my body sideways in a jump, crashing through the weakened walls of vines and rolling in front of him.
He was small. Child-sized, but he had fur. The face, still half- hidden under the purple garb, was that of a fox. He made to dash past me, but my sword was drawn. So, he bolted in the opposite direction.
I hesitated ever so slightly, then launched back into the air. When I landed the dust rattled. The child stuttered to a stop, falling on its back. Its hood fell back and the wind took no mercy in casting his fur every which way. The sudden gust showed me no special treatment either, but I cared not, my prey was caught.
"What is it, Mister?"
A sharpness. What?
"Mister, are you okay?"
The voice was scattered and scathed; hurt, but worried. It was so small. I slowly noticed I was shaking convulsively. The only thing steady was my grip on the sword. But not on reality.
I dropped the sword. My lungs suddenly ached for air.
"N-nothing." I staggered out. Was that my voice?
"Mister," the small one was gaining confidence, "Can I get you anything? We're not far from town." I am weaker than the cool innocence of a child. Damn it.
My lungs received the air and my monotone gained strength. "I am sorry. Go home now." I stood tall until he was out of sight. Then I fell to my knees.
Overcast came and more gusts flooded my ears. So this is my punishment, Charles? What would you say Captain? How have I made out for myself? Hunting kids in the forest. Hunting for the sake of hunting as if-

"As if I were nothing more than." No, that couldn't be. Not simply a hunter, but one forged from what time forgot. Damn it. "What am I, Sahasrahla!" I screamed into the torrential rain and foreign wind.

The clouds continued to shift above me.