Ander - Part 1: Subchapter 1
Ander By Contrast (aka Necrobat)
Chapter 1 The Bonds of Blood
1
He could smell it coming, bounding through the woods. He could smell its fear. Even worse, he could smell the ecstasy of those chasing after it.
The ecstasy of his brothers.
Completely hidden by the thick underbrush, Ander looked to the sky. It was a cool morning, and tendrils of mist were still snaking through the air, shimmering like ghosts. The sun shone through the thick branches and threw dancing spots of light across the forest floor, despite the thunderclouds gathering above the Cora, their protector mountain.
It was a beautiful scene, but one he couldn't enjoy. He knew what was about to happen, and he knew it would happen soon.
And he still had his own part to play.
He could hear it now. The thudding of its hooves, the desperate sound of its breathing. He could even hear the beating of its heart. Underneath all this, steadily gaining, the padded sounds of his brothers' footfalls. And their growls.
Ander took an arrow from his quiver and loaded his bow, holding it sideways to remain hidden. The wood creaked as he pulled back the bowstring, making him wince.
How he hated that sound. It always seemed to speak to him, and it always seemed to say exactly the same thing, over and over.
Are you really going to do this? Again?
Ander closed his eyes, willing the voice to go away. He couldn't afford to mess this up. His family was counting on him. He had to do this. There simply wasn't any choice to be made.
Now.
He opened his eyes and took aim as it finally crashed into the open; a beautiful stag, with massive antlers and a shiny coat. That's why its eyes were so painful to look at. They were filled with pure terror, something that should never have been allowed to touch a creature of such innocence.
"I'm sorry..." Ander whispered, and released the arrow.
It was a bad shot. He could feel it the moment the fletching passed through his fingers.
Instead of piercing the stag through the neck, it lodged itself deep inside its hind leg, severing muscle and tendon.
Pain tore through Ander's heart as he watched it plough into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and dead leaves. It tried to get back up, but collapsed, mewling in agony.
Ander nocked a second arrow, hoping against hope that he would be able to end it before-
But no, it was already too late for that.
His brothers came bursting into the clearing, drooling and snarling, completely lost in the hunt. They charged the defenceless stag, and Ander had no choice but to lower his bow.
He turned his head away, but it didn't help. He knew exactly what was going to happen, and every sound he heard was like a gleeful announcement.
First, the stag cried out in pain as Hezzi pounced, sinking his claws into its back and holding it down with his weight. Then, even worse than the mewling, was the absence of any sound at all as Banno bit down on its neck.
This was what Ander's been dreading. Not the death of the stag itself (that would be mercy), but the joy that Banno always found in the kill. He likes to bite down, slowly increasing the pressure, drawing out the experience as long as he possibly could. He says he can taste it when they die, that he can feel death on his tongue. To him, the exact moment when life leaves their bodies is like a lover's embrace. That's how he earned his name.
In the old Wolven tongue, it means: "Flavour of Death".
Ander emerged from his hiding spot and approached his brothers, the smell of fresh blood filling his nostrils.
It was bitter.
"Ander!" Hezzi said, jubilant after the kill. His name means "Fast Paws" and it was a name he well deserved. "That was a great shot! Right in the leg! You're getting really good with that bow!"
"I was aiming for its neck," Ander said, horrified to see that the poor thing was still alive and gasping for breath. "Don't you think that's enough, Banno?"
The black Wolf only glared at him, refusing to let go. A low growl emanating from deep inside his throat told Ander all he needed to know. Banno was the oldest, the biggest, and the strongest of the three, and it would be foolish to go against him.
That's why Ander had to watch the stag die, unable to do anything. He had to stand there and watch while his brother closed his eyes in pleasure, feeling its heartbeat fade away into nothing.
When it was finally over, Banno stood up, blood dripping from his muzzle, and clapped Ander on the shoulder. "Why so serious, brother?" he asked, smiling a bloody grin. "You did well! Aren't you proud?" There was a warning in his eyes, a warning so blatantly obvious even Hezzi couldn't have missed it. He looked from one brother to the next, his ears flattened in worry. He hated to see his brothers fighting.
Ander looked at the dead stag, at the pool of blood spreading across the leaves, then at his brother. The blood was already drying in his fur, caking it into a mass of spiky, black tangles.
"Well?" Banno said, licking his chops.
"Yes," Ander said, turning his face away. "Yes, I'm proud."
"Good!" Banno bent down and hoisted the lifeless carcass onto his shoulders, knocking Hezzi to the ground with a yelp. He sprang back to his feet in a flash and rushed around to support the stag's lolling head, eager to help. He needn't have bothered. Banno could carry it back all by himself, but he seemed pleased with his youngest brother's enthusiasm.
"Glad to see someone's enjoying himself," he said with a smile, watching as the antlers bumped Hezzi on the head with every step he took. "You coming, Ander?"
Ander didn't answer right away. He couldn't stop staring at the blood welling beneath the stag's eye like a crimson tear. Growing too heavy, it fell to the ground and was eagerly sucked up by the dry sand, as if the earth itself was just as bloodthirsty as his brothers. As his entire clan.
Now Banno was getting impatient. "I said, are you -"
"Yes! I'm coming!" Ander snapped. Hezzi looked to Banno, worry once again turning his young face into something much older, but Banno only flashed his red grin.
"Let's go, then," he said, and started down the path toward the village, Hezzi playfully running around him in circles, his crazy energy never leaving him for a single moment.
Ander sighed, slipped his bow across his back and followed his brothers deeper into the woods, thinking about how fitting his own name was.
In old Wolven, it simply means "Different".
This has been the first subchapter in my serial novel, "Ander". If you enjoyed it, please help keep my face un-mauled by irritable ostriches by dropping me a donation. Thank you! ^_^
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