Chapter 1: The Caravan

The leader of the transport caravan was worried. They were easily half way to their destination, yet there hadn't been a single attack from anything. No Velociprey packs looking to make an easy meal of their Aptonoths, no Rath attacks, or even close encounters of any sort.

But at the same time, there was a nervous tension because of the simple fact that a very large Rathalos had been flying overhead for the past two hours. Another person in the lead wagon, an ecologist, was more fascinated than worried. This had to be one of the first of those Rath species in this area. The blue Rathalos and Pink Rathian species were first seen much farther south, but this male had to have been one of the first to have a territory this far north. Fascinating, if it was following them like this, it must be protecting its territory; and that would mean that it has a mate and possibly young out there somewhere.

It was unfortunate that, because it is the first of its kind in this area, it would probably be hunted as a trophy by some overzealous hunter...like the man sleeping in the seat behind him.

"Hey. Hey hunter!" the caravan leader shouted to no avail, he continued to sleep, "WAKE UP!"

He stirred before stating: "Jeeze, let me sleep, you don't need me to get to the city..."

"No we don't, but we do need someone who knows about monsters to be awake."

"What the hell for? You need me to tell you what their names are?", said the hunter, irritated.

"Don't be so damn rude, as a matter of fact, there has been a Los circling us for some time now, and it could attack at any moment!" griped the caravan leader, now visibly angered, "And we need someone to kill it if that's the case."

The hunter got out from under the wagon's tent and stood up. He looked up into the sky, blocking the sun with his hand. He watched the Rathalos glide for a good five minutes before he stated, "Unless you're worried that its scales are too colorful, and would blind you, there is nothing to worry about." This put a smirk on the ecologist's face.

"You're kidding right! It could attack at any mome...!"

The caravan driver was interrupted but a swooping noise and a soft thud. All the Aptonoths that were pulling the wagons stopped dead in their tracks. The Rathalos was clearly visible, calmly walking over to the caravan.

"See! I told you that it would attack! You call yourself a hunter?" Whispered the driver angrily.

The hunter spoke aloud, "Hold your horses old man, nothing to worry about, I'll take care of it."

He calmly picked up his Siegmund, sheathed it, hopped off the wagon, and walked over to the Los. They both stopped about ten feet from each other. The hunter looked at the wyvern calmly, noticing the deep scar on the side of its face; it had to have been made by a sword.

He spoke, raising his voice slightly, "There is nothing to worry about, get out of here!"

The Rath kneeled down slightly, all the watchers in the caravan could see it was going to charge. The hunter reached for the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it.

Then, the Rathalos spread its wings and flew off, as though nothing had happened.

There was no cheering for the hunter as he got back into his seat, only the silence of disbelief.

"That thing could have killed you in no time flat, you know?" asked the ecologist.

"Yeah but, thing is, they are a lot more docile than you would think, since I started hunting, I've had to kill only one."

"Hmmm...never seen someone so calm around a Los, I'm Cyrus, an ecologist," he said, "and...you are?"

"The names' Turel." And with that, he went back to sleep, as though nothing big had just happened.