Prologue

The forest was unusually quiet that night, lacking the common sounds of twilight. It was an old forest; thousands of years had passed under its encroaching arms. For a collective of trees, it had done quite well. The original seedlings had been transported by migrating birds to a small nook south of the mountains. Luckily for the fledgling trees, the spot was beneath the mountains tall spires, which pierced the clouds and gave the ground below an extended wet season. There were no high hills to the east to block the morning sun, and the forest had exploded in growth. As the centuries had past, it had attracted more and more wildlife, stretching further out and up the mountain. A series of particularly wet years had allowed a campaign of vertical growth up the rocky face to continue unopposed. The trees higher up were more sparse, but had still managed to entrench themselves into any viable ground that the mountain held. A century ago, the northern most part of the forest was but a few hundred feet down from the peaks, and the aggressive advance stopped for the most part. New growth had sprouted up in cracks between the trees higher up, where before had been impermeable rock that had since been broken apart by mighty roots. These new trees too would flourish in the years to come, spreading about the tops of the mountain until the entire ridgeline was covered in a blanket of green. All manner of animals had expanded upward with the growing forest, and even several thousand feet above the ground there was a mini ecosystem. However, the water, animals, and ore in the hills made the forest an excellent resource for loggers, trappers and miners. Humans had worked their way north, into the foothills, and a plethora of small, hard working, towns had sprung up throughout the forest, in the shadow of the great mountains.

Usually, even at night, the forest was still alive with activity. Bats, owls, wolves, rodents and insects each adding their own harmony to a symphony of sorts across the ridgeline; something, however, was different this night. There was a dead silence, each member of the natural orchestra silenced by something very out of the ordinary. A seasoned hunter made his way through the forest, up the mountain, in perfect silence. His feet were bound with leather straps, no sole on the bottom so that he could feel the ground and could move in step with nature. On his back was a bedroll and at his side a quiver, the few arrows packed loosely and the bow held in his experienced hands. As he stepped forward, he slipped on a rock, snapping a twig from a nearby tree as he tried to balance himself with an outstretched hand. He recovered quickly, and immediately he was crouching, his eyes narrowed to slits and form steady. Another twig snapped in the quieted wood. This one, however, was not by any fault of the woodsman. Senses alert, the hunter nocked an arrow; its keen shaft smoothened through use upon use. The hunter’s eyes narrowed more, separating the shadows of the forest from those of his foe. He saw an opening through the thick weave of branches. A large figure, a good four feet taller than any man, stood facing away from him, scanning the horizon – the perfect shot. Days of tracking, sleepless nights, and mornings spent hungry had all culminated in this one moment. Time seemed to slow as the arrow flew, darting through the contours of the forest, finding its mark. The creature gave an unearthly roar, howling in mortal pain, breaking the eerie silence, before slumping to the ground in a heap; an uneasy but gentile quiet once again returning to the darkened forest.

The hunter’s mind was racing. He had done it! The scourge of the mountain was over. He had single handedly slain a monster of legend! He could hardly believe it, but the proof was right there at his feet. The beast’s mighty claws and razor-sharp teeth humbled by his stealth and deadly accuracy. He had threaded the needle and landed a shot between the thick armor plates guarding its neck. The arrow, now covered in red, had flown true, as it always had. His senses were clouded with a rush of adrenaline, and he paid no attention to movement in the brush behind him. As he began to remove the arrow from the creature’s jugular, the hunter’s back convulsed as he felt his spinal cord being severed from behind. Unable to stand or scream, his legs collapsed and he fell limp to the mossy ground. His limbs were like boulders as he tried in vain to move. His mind screaming the command to stand, but his body seemed deaf. Blood poured out from his back, running under his body. He rested face up in the warm stream, as it flowed along the contours of his arms and legs. Damn, he thought, looking upward at the face of his killer, there were two of them, and darkness closed in on him.