The Huntsmans Home

2

Tucked in the autumn fallen forest, between the Cursed Lands of the Tainted and a small country called Roscrest was the huntsman's home. He jolted awake, and after becoming oriented enough to see he was home. He tried to examine his poorly bandaged arm. But winced, as a pain shot through his chest. 

Looking down his shirt collar his abdomen was nothing but a dark patch of muddled bruising. He was certain the damage was far more than skin deep. Sighing he wondered who his savior could be, when he remembered the kids.

“Revira! Tollin!” He shouted, sitting up and groaning. 

“Oh good, you’re awake!!” A young voice chimed with mischievous delight. 

The huntsman froze as a winged imp, clothed in one of Tollin’s shirts and Revira’s skirts drug firewood through the back door. Quickly looking around he spotted his quiver and what remained of his bow on the table. Throwing the covers off of himself he tried to launch himself at his arrows. But the little imp had the strength of ten men and stopped him. Landing on the huntsman’s chest, having shot through the air like a possessed shadow. 

“Woah there mister! Don’t get up now, your guts might fall out!” 

Disturbed by the creature the huntsman remained silent.

“Anyway I’m glad you woke up! I’m not sure if I did that right?”

The imp pointed to the bandages on the huntsman’s arm. 

“Ah! Sorry!” Suddenly becoming bashful the imp hopped from the huntsman’s chest. “You’re not supposed to do that to hurt people are you?” He asked, his eyes going wide looking up at the huntsman. The his eyes were black, with red irises, with slitted pupils. 

“What are you after, demon?” The huntsman asked, ignoring his question. With narrowed eyes he watched the little creature carefully. Its skin was a rubby gray with purple and blue blushing across its face as it looked down. 

“Um, well, um could you tell me about these?” It asked shyly, reaching into the skirts pockets and pulling out a jar and bottle unmistakably filled with souls. 

“Give me those!” The huntsman snatched them away, the imp didn’t protest. The huntsman examined them, and the imp moved in closer to look at them too. They were in perfect condition. He could find nothing wrong with them, and the man knew, these were undoubtedly the souls of his children, Revira, and Tollin. 

“Why didn’t you eat them?” He asked the little demon, who stared contently at them. 

Blinking up at the huntsman, and back down to the souls he picked up the jar that had Tollin inside and hugged it. 

“That’d be such a waste,” he purred, rubbing his cheek against the jar. “They’re so warm, and. . .” He paused with a lazy content smile on his face, gazing at Tollin with admiration. 

“And,” the huntsman prompted. Smiling bashfully the imp set Tollin down scratching the back of his head. 

“And I don’t know how to start a fire. . .” He chuckled, and turning toward the hearth, the huntsman could see the many failed attempts the imp had made to start a fire with crude kindling and wood. 

Grunting, the huntsman pointed to an open cabinet, “see that vile, with the swallow as the stopper, fetch it for me.” 

Following the man’s finger Imp nodded and sprung from the bed, flapping his wings lazily to keep himself up. He nimbly pulled the vile from its place, and somersaulted back toward the bed with the vile between his teeth. Landing on all fours he crawled his way back up and the huntsman took it from him. Sitting crisscross Imp watched as the huntsman removed the glass stopper with his teeth and downed the contents of the vile. 

A noxious smell from the vile caused Imp to flinch back, but the huntsman's complexion grew markedly better as the moments passed. 

“What was that?” Imp asked, eyeing the vile curiously. 

“An elixir for vigor.” Looking and sounding stronger the huntsman sank into his bed, clutching the kids close to his chest. Closing his eyes, he sighed, “I’ll get you back.” 

“Get who back?” Imp asked, leaning over the huntsman's face. 

“My children,” he sighed again and sat up. Despite taking the elixir, he was still sluggish. “I’ll heal up, and get them to the temple in Conrede. I’ve heard the priest there can perform resurrections.” He nodded to himself. 

“What’s a resurrection?” Imp asked, staring up at him with big curious eyes. 

“It’ll bring them back to life.” 

“Oh, I didn’t realize they were gone.” Imp stared pointedly at their souls.
“It’ll bring back bodies for them to live in.” 

Imp grinned broadly. “How does the priest do that?” 

“Enough questions,” the huntsman grunted and shivered. “First start a fire, it’s freezing in here.” The huntsman swatted Imp toward the hearth. But unlike all the other times he’d failed to light the fire, the huntsman instructed him with how to use flint and steel. The fire was roaring and warmed the small home in no time. 

~ ~ ~

“Hmph, well then what are you still doing here?” The huntsman asked as they ate dinner, provided by Imp catching several birds. 

“Hmm, I wanna see souls get resurrected.” 

“Huh, then you plan on sticking around for a while?”

The little creature nodded enthusiastically, losing a piece of poultry to the floor. It fell from the utensils his nimble fingers seemed clumsy with. Imp quickly rescued it with his tail. Popping it into his mouth unbothered. 

“What should I call you then?” Imp blinked at the question and after a moment shrugged. 

“No name huh, don’t think you’ll be getting one out of me demon. I’m Manuel.” He introduced himself and Imp grinned in response.