Origins of Hunter

Hunter Leemonex... Few werewolves in Endasia have a strange past. Most werewolves grow up in their pack, survive with their pack, and die in their pack. There are also werewolves such as Hunter, who only wish they had such a simple life. Hunter Leemonex is reminded of this past every day. What event could occur that would cause such distress in his life?

This is the story of Hunter Leemonex.
The story of the werewolf that was a part of the 'event' that seemingly killed his whole family.


1. Dillusional

No wildlife in that direction. I leap to another branch, then another one. There are many tall, thriving trees, swaying green plants… nothing to hunt besides a few stray squirrels. I'm looking for something bigger. Actually, I can't be sure that nothing is in that direction. There is a lot of forest coverage that way, it might be covering something of importance. Plus, it’s the only direction I haven't looked at well. Maybe if i climb a branch or two I’ll be able to see better.

I leap to the branch above me, I have no struggle lifting myself up. I look around. Still not high enough. The green forest is almost distracting as i make my way higher on the tree. The height of the tree makes it easier to see any game that is any taller than the plants.

I jump to another branch. I’m about forty feet in the air now, but that doesn't bug me. Werewolves are very rarely afraid of heights. Being a big tree, despite my weight on it, the branch I'm standing on is still almost a foot thick even though I am well over thirty feet in the air. Plenty of support to hold my weight. This time, on this branch, I can see over the smaller saplings and tall grass. This view is perfect for seeing everything moving close to me.

I see a couple squirrels, but that won't do much for me. Then I see something- Something in the prairie a good distance away. It looks like it's a fair size too, but I need to get closer to see exactly what it is. I jump to another tree’s branch, and then another’s.

After jumping from tree to tree with movement similar to an ape, I can now see the creature clearly. I think it’s deer. They look full breed, too. You don't see those very often anymore; everything is a hybrid now.

I take a deep breath. Wind isn’t very strong right now; it shouldn't be an issue. Exhale. I see three targets: two doe and one buck. Breathe in. Sixty yards away, targets don't suspect anything. Exhale. Gloomy day, slightly sprinkling. Humidity won't be an issue either. Quietly, I pull an arrow out of the quiver on by back and ready it on his bow.

I pull back the arrow to my cheek. I've done this so many times I don't even feel resistance from the string as I pull it. I line up the deer to my broken scope, then raise it, then a little higher. If there is any gust of wind, because the wind is coming at me, I will still hit my target. Aiming higher is just a precaution, I’d probably hit the deer anyway without the extra height. I don't take chances though, no room for mistake. Actually, it isn't life or death I kill it, but I like to think so.

This position makes me uncomfortable in the tree I'm in, but I’m not worried about being comfortable right now. I take a deep breathe. I release the first arrow, and have another one notched by the time it hit the first doe. The second arrow flies before the other doe knows that his companion fell. The last buck was more tricky. It actually got a solid two leaps in before I strung another arrow.

But as I lined up to the last buck, my vision goes fuzzy. I know end up shooting way above the deer, even though I didn't see it miss. No doubt I missed by a longshot. But I really don't care. I'm trying to prepare myself for the worst. My vision has blurred like this before. I know what happens next.

I think of climbing down the tree, but I know I wouldn't make it that far. It takes all of me to not throw up on the spot. Now instead of seeing everything fuzzy and blurred, my peripherals goes black. This hurts my brain, I squint in pain. When I reopen my eyes, I see absolutely nothing. Simply nothing, everything is black. The only way I know I haven't blacked out is because I still can feel the tree I'm holding. Some sharp bark jabbing into my left hand actually helps.

Now I try to focus on my hearing. I hear the soft pitter-patter of the rain dripping onto the leaves above me. Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter.

Then, even my hearing becomes weird. Everything I'm listening to becomes quiet at a very slow rate. It's like everything is being silenced, like everything is slowly being put on mute. When I hear absolutely nothing, I hear my heart. It is deafening. Boom. Boom. Boom. My heart racing obviously isn't helping anything.

I try to grip the tree and focus on the senses I do have; the feel of the tree, it's sharpness, the smell of the cold wet bark and the humid day.

These aren't lost to me. But my strength is lost as I grip the tree, an almost drunk feeling comes apparent to me. I don't make an effort to grab on to anything, I don't feel anything. I don't have a voice. My arms dangle from the tree. I don't care if I fall. I feel like a ragdoll.

Slowly, I slip from the tree. I fall completely limp without a worry in the world. I'm not scared of falling so far. I don't know why, usually I am. But I feel calm.

It's the impact of the ground that wakes me. I don't feel hurt, I'm not in pain from falling. But it is awfully strange going from having little feeling and ragdoll body, then in a moment's notice, have everything go back to normal. I arch my back and yell, somehow, the sudden return of everything hurts.

But my recovery is quick. I stand up, surprised at how quickly I was able to stand up this time. Perhaps it was because I know what happens next. Maybe I can stop her from saying a word.

I reach for my bow, and find it isn't slung on my back. I must have dropped it. Instead, draw my knives and circle my position, ready for anything. Every enhanced sense I have is in use right now. Anything I find disturbing my surroundings will be killed.

As I look up to inspect the trees, I hear a footstep behind me, the crushed leaves and broken twig. I jump backwards and turn into a werewolf, a terrifying creature much like a wolf. I was even told I was a larger than the average, approximately a hundred pounds. With my black fur and dark eyes, I'm considered a nightmare.

I don't have long to survey the person, but I know this: it is in fact a person, which means it needs to die.

I use my front paws to hit the person to the ground, square in the chest with plenty of force. The person falls back first onto the ground. Without thinking I leap for the neck, the kill zone.

I stop myself just as my teeth touches his skin. Wait... It's a he, not... her. This man should consider himself lucky he gets to live another day.

I jump back a few steps, worried I caused damage to him. But instead he laughs. I see his stomach rise and fall as he laughs, which I find to be quite an odd reaction. He proceeds to sit up, revealing his face.

It's Peter, my childhood friend. He had shaggy dark hair, the same as me. He has strange glasses with a somehow masculine pattern of ovals. His chin was slightly more rounded and his nose fell farther than mine.

I change back to human form. Why Pete? Why is he here?

"What are you doing?" I ask, more harsher and commanding that I intended. My hands are still on my knifes.

"Good day to you too," He responds smiling, revealing his yellow teeth. "My, how you've grown. What are you now? Seventeen?"

I don't give him the satisfaction of being right.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine."

"What are you doing here Pete? Where's Iz?"

Pete scoffs. "Well, little did I know you actually preferred her over me. Or anyone for that matter. I'll let her know next time. She will be most happy to hear it."

"You just came instead of her?"

"Indeed so," Peter responds, standing and making a big deal to wipe of the dirt from his filthy pants. I hesitate. Pete might not be any better than isabelle. He could be worse. Well, if need be I'll just kill him with the knife he doesn't see me playing with. But he must have some idea I am ready for anything, because he then asks me, "You wouldn't hurt me, would you Hunter?"

His being casual is angering as it is. It's like he doesn't know I could stab him. But, truth be told, I probably wouldn't stab him.

"After all I've done for you?" He adds with a grin. Honestly, Peter did help me a lot when I was in the village. I really have no reason to be angry at him.

"I thought Isabelle wouldn't hurt me either," I respond. "Despite what I've done for her. I don't know who to trust." I keep my pokerface, continuing to be angered by his smirk. I hope he realizes he isn't about to make me smile back.

"What Isabelle did has nothing to do with what I did," Peter says, losing his smile, now more serious. "You know that full-well. She shouldn't be classified as 'human.' What she did was cruel, crueler than I thought humanly possible,"

"No kidding," I snort. "I don't know who... Or what... I am sure of anymore."

"Now now, I didn't leave a bitter taste in your mouth when I left, did I Hunter?"

"You died, Pete," I say with my teeth clenched. "And yes, you died and left me all alone."

"We needed food."

"It wasn't worth the risk!" I thrust my knife into the tree I was leaning against and take two daring steps toward a surprised Peter. "It never was! You left me to hunt, sleep, and survive on my own! For four weeks, Pete! Four!!" I shout the last part with all of the anger I have built up from inside. I whip around and try to pull my knife from the tree, which I manage to get about three inches into before the thickness of the knife prevented it from going farther. I lean against the tree unlodging my knife, my back is to Peter.

After a few seconds, he responds.

"I really am sorry," Peter says, his voice soft. "Truly, I am." Dang it, I let my anger slip. I do feel like I needed to take my anger out on someone, but not Pete. I wouldn't have made it nearly as far without him.

"No, I'm sorry Pete," I say sincerely. "Just had some anger that has been built up inside me for a long time." I pause. "Thank you for going north with me, Pete."

"It's what best friends are for," he gives a weak smile. My short tantrum must have spok. But once he says that, I think of Isabelle, but I don't want to bring her up.

"Anyway," he continues, "I best be off. Best of luck to you, Hunter. And your long journey ahead of you."


"Oh you know, the rest of your life." He smiles and winks, which makes me sure that's not what he meant. "Goodbye, Hunter." He then walks backwards into the tree, and dissolves. I see the water-like vapor rise into the air. Then I black out.

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