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.


3. Home Sweet Home

When I wake up, I'm feel like a boneless doll. I go whichever direction that leads me with momentum. I'm tied to a stretcher; my hands are tied to my sides, anyway. I don't think my feet are tied for whatever reason. I'm not sure why, but I am mostly vertical.

"Welcome back, Hunter," Koba says as he continues walking. Koba is our pack leader, he accepted me into his pack, even though I wasn't born in it. Generally, only werewolves born in the pack are allowed to stay. That isn't a strict rule, but it's a good one. It helps keep the pack a safe place.

His voice comes from right behind me. Then I realize that I'm in what some werewolfs call a one man stretcher, not because it fits one man but because it only takes one person to carry it. For the carrier, it takes just a simple harness around the upper body to support the stretcher well enough to be carried on the back, similar to a backpack. This is way more effective than carrying a two man stretcher alone. This was designed by our pack in the case someone or something was found hurt or injured, they could be carried by only one werewolf.

But if I'm in the stretcher, that means being carried over shoulder didn't work either, because that is usually what is tried first. Usually, it's easier to carry someone over shoulder then set up the stretcher. Strange.

"How long?" I know this isn't a complete sentence, but Koba knows what I mean. He's helped me out of these situations in the past.

"Maybe an hour or two ago, from when I found you." Koba says. Now I'm aware of my surroundings. The familiar green grass, the specially shaped tree, we aren't far from the village.

"Where did you find me?" I know it doesn't matter so much anymore, but I still find it important to know exactly what happened. How I was found, where, by whom, everything. I don't know why. I guess I like to know what happens when I blank out.

"I found you over on the rock on one of the mountains," he responds. Now I understand why he is a little tired, the mountains are over ten miles away. But if I was in the mountains, that means I somehow walked two miles from my hunting spot to get there. Odd.

Before I ask another question, he continues. "I was scouting our perimeter. I heard some vamps came on our side of Wolfsbane, uninvited. Thought I found one when I saw you. You were in your wolf form."

He takes a few breaths before he continues. "I couldn't pick you up. You even tried attacking me, I got a couple scratches to prove it. But eventually you changed back to human form, and then I could put you in the stretcher." This doesn't leave many questions for me to ask.

I don't reply. I decide I'll apologize and thank him when my feet are on solid ground, which hopefully will be soon. All this swaying and unexpected steps and swinging is making me feel funny again.

We don't travel much further until Koba sets me down against a rock. We're probably getting close to the village.

When Koba comes around to untie my hands, I notice a fresh scratch on his face.

"Did I do that?" I ask, pointing with my now free right hand.

"That's not the worst of it, mate," he says as he unties my right hand. He doesn't sound upset at all, which I am thankful for. I probably deserve a good punch for causing all of this trouble.

I get off the stretcher. I have all feeling back, all senses fully functional, but my bones feel weak. I don't think it's from blacking out, though. I think it's from walking so far, like the extra two mile walk in my sleep did me good.

"I'm sorry, Koba," I say sincerely. "Thanks for everything. Bringing me back, finding me.."

"Simple solution, Hunter," he says. "There's no reason for me not to help, especially after you seeked my help." I wish he would either show his sincerity or be angered, because I really don't know if he means the apology. I wouldn't be surprised in the least if he was sick and tired of helping me.

When I grab the stretcher, I find my bow, quiver, and bag all in one piece. I don't give them a second thought, like how all of my stuff could possible have stayed with me without a scratch.

With my bag, the now folded stretcher, and one of Koba's bag, I set off towards the village. We got closer than I thought, right now we are only a quarter of a mile away.

I'm thankful Koba was able to help me again. It wasn't the first time I've had a black-out like that, and it wasn't the first time he's helped me. Fortunately, he is the only one who knows about my black-outs. I don't know what would happen if anyone else knew. Probably not banishment, but no more hunting in groups. Which, for me, is just as bad as banishment.

We arrive at the camp and I head straight to my room. All werewolves get pretty small houses, but because the houses are so small, some members in the werewolf camp just refer to them as "rooms."

My room is just the same as the rest of them; small in size with a wooden desk, small table, and a hammock in the corner. It is very bland, i think it is too much of the same wooden color. Fortunately I only come here to sleep, if that.

There is one difference my room has that other rooms do not… a couple of months ago I constructed a makeshift window out of a wooden plank. Basically, I cut a sloppy hole in the wall and nailed a plank on it. It doesn't even open or close, I nailed one nail to the top so it could spin. This small job took me an afternoons worth, an afternoon I could have spent hunting. I’ll never plan on doing it again.

I carelessly toss my gear onto the desk, and proceed to hang my bow onto the mount I made right next to my hammock.

Dang, even after blacking out, I still manage to be tired.

I collapse in my hammock and play with the arrowhead of an arrow I always have right next to my bed. I like say that I put the arrow and bow next to my bed because if someone ever attacks, I can simply pull the bow off my wall and string an arrow and I’d be ready for most anything, instead of crossing the room to get to my weapon. So I could be prepared for anything.

But actually, it is mostly a stress reliever. Something to keep my hands busy while I think.

I look over to the open window. Through the small hole, I can see the sun is about to set. It is actually an incredible sight, which is kind of ironic i can see it at all. I wasn't trying to capture the sunset when I made the window. I'm not complaining though. I just can't help but think where I’d be if Isabelle never turned me in. If Isabelle was never a part of my life. I spend many hours thinking just this before i drift off into a deep, intentional sleep.

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