Hildiric

The terrain was rough, the roots of oaks and beeches hidden by a layer of dead leaves and mud. It was essential to cross carefully, in single file, through the animal-made footpaths, guiding the horses to avoid sprains. The trackers were in front with Gunnar and were following the tracks of the bison to the place where they had seen the smoke.

I gripped my spear tighter, hoping that coming face to face with the other clan wouldn’t end in disaster. Often these things ended in a few tantrums and little else, but the risk of resorting to force was always in the air, especially if the ones leading were too stubborn.

A thing, alas, very common among the clan leaders.

I tried, as probably everyone was doing at that moment, to imagine who could have actually trespassed on the day of the ritual hunt. The Rotkel clan was the closest to the area, but I found it very difficult to imagine their placid old chieftain doing something like that. He could have died and been replaced by his much more bellicose son, but we had not heard of it and even if it had been a very recent thing it would have undoubtedly provoked his neighbors on the other side, with whom they had many problems. The leader of the Blutolf clan was bold enough to do such a thing, even if it was quite far from his lands.

At a certain point a gap opened in the middle of the treetops, from which it was possible to see the Giants' Banquet. The group of flat and steep hills looked like a series of tables and benches of bare stone that rose above the tree canopy. The entire area, even at ground level, was impervious, full of crevasses, holes and entire hidden caves that made it extremely difficult to cross, which is why it constituted the border of our clan's territory.

The trackers raised a hand and everyone stopped. The heads of families and their followers clutched their spears or put their hands on their quivers, ready to spring at the slightest signal.

The man in front of the group made a pheasant call, repeating it three times before stopping and straining his ears. He waited a full minute before turning to the clan leader, though I couldn’t hear what they said. Gunnar nodded and raised his hand into a fist, a pall of anxiety falling over the entire group. The trackers usually left someone behind to continue the search, and they left signals to warn each other. There were only two possibilities: either he was too far away to have heard, or he had been discovered… and only the gods could tell what happened next.

We advanced with an even heavier pace, glancing frequently into the forest. We stopped three more times to let the tracker give his signal, but we got no response.

A sinister idea began to creep into my mind, that this was not another clan of our tribe. But who would be so foolish as to defy the Wise men, desecrating such a sacred time? It was one thing to provoke clans in which a few people could die – that is the nature of clans and the Wise Men understand it – but a deliberate attack was a huge risk. The Wise Men could never tolerate such a thing and it would bring terrible misfortunes to anyone who committed such an affront.

As we got closer, the smell of smoke began to thicken in the air. At first it was just a faint scent, but it gradually grew stronger and stronger, mingling with the smell of burning flesh and fur. The horses began to get restless and it was difficult to keep them in line along the trail. Only once the air was on the brink of suffocating, Gunnar stopped the column and signaled us to turn back, walking us to a stop in a slightly larger clearing. The clan leader then signaled to spread out and form a circle so we would be less vulnerable.

"That's far too smokey to be a campfire, or even a group of them. Go ahead and see what's there" Gunnar ordered one of the trackers, close enough to me to make out the words.

The man broke away from the rest of the group and headed into the forest, disappearing into the branches.

"This is getting weirder and weirder" my brother whispered in my ear, lowering his bow.

“Stay focused” I told him, gripping my spear tighter.

Despite my words, I couldn’t help but agree with him. The smoke was just too much for a small group, especially if they were trying to stay out of sight. It could also have been an attempt to lead us into a trap, but if that were the case, it would have been easier to attack us while we were in the thickest part of the smoke, or even more so when we were retreating. It just didn’t make sense.

After a while, less than I expected, the tracker came running back, his nose and mouth wrapped in a piece of cloth to protect himself from the smoke.

“There are no people” he reported, his voice labored.

“What?” the chieftain asked, confused.

“I found some bison, but they’re all dead” the tracker bent forwards, coughing from the smoke. A companion handed him a waterskin. He spat the taste of smoke out of his mouth with the first sip, then greedily drank the rest.

"Were they killed by fire or by people?" Gunnar asked, impatiently.

"Probably by fire, but…" the man hesitated, looking in the direction he had come from.

"Come on, we don't have all day!"

"They were eaten."

"Eaten by humans?"

"No, not by humans."

"Why should I care then?" Gunnar growled, becoming more and more irritated.

"It's hard to explain, I'd better show you" he said.

The clan leader, his expression dark, turned to the man who was leading the trackers, but he just shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” he finally said, sounding like a man who wanted to punch something in frustration.

The man led us back through the smoky forest. Although he seemed sure there were no humans, he still walked carefully, more than was necessary for walking on the rough road. This made everyone even more anxious.

When the canopy finally opened up before us, the sight before us was horrifying.

A half-dozen cattle lay on the scorched ground, their charred limbs mostly devoured. The smell of the burning carcasses, which had been just a faint odor before, was now nothing short of unbearable, forcing us to cover our noses with our clothes. There were several trees that were downed and partly charred, but in some you could see the inside trunk intact, as if they had been hit by intense but sudden flames.

"What the hell happened here?" asked one of the group, his voice muffled by his shirt.

"Did wolves do this?" wondered another.

I got off my horse and examined one of the carcasses. Most of the back of the body was missing and many bones, even very large and strong ones, were mashed. Despite this, there was still a lot of meat on the head and on the part facing the ground, and the other bison were all in similar states. It looked as if a gigantic creature had eaten the animals in a few bites.

There was a scream that attracted our attention. One of the men of the clan leader was on the ground and, although I could not see his face, his hands and arms were shaking convulsively. I approached, but when I saw what had frightened him, my heart froze and my stomach turned.

On the ground was a boot… with the foot and part of the leg still inside.

"Gods above help us" Gunnar said, when he too saw the severed limb.

One of the trackers approached, his face deathly pale and his eyes moist, and fell to his knees beside the leg.

"Rodrik, brother," he whispered, so softly that I had trouble hearing him too.

Gunnar was pale too as he turned to the leader of the trackers, who had remained off to the side.

"What could have caused all this?" he asked, his voice betraying his nervousness. "Are there any signs of where this thing could have gone?"

"No. The tracks it left are confused and there seems to be no clear direction to its movements, as if it disappeared and reappeared somewhere else." one of the trackers replied.

"That's impossible. It must have come from somewhere and gone somewhere."

"I don't know. It's something we've never seen in our lives."

"You should be the ones who know this forest best!" the clan leader barked.

"There is nothing here that can be traced back to beings of this world. Not wolves, not bears, not even humans. There is something completely different here."

At these words, a pall of uneasiness fell. As children, we had all heard stories told by our mothers at bedtime, played games based on them with other children, and remained enchanted for hours by the ramblings of rare travelers, who spoke of distant and mysterious lands.

"It can't be a monster. We should be protected by the magic of the Wise men," Landulf retorted, unleashing a series of discussions among the heads of the families.

"In fact, it can't…"

"… no animal could…"

"And the fire then…"

"We need to find the beast and…

"… a bunch of…"

"Be quiet!" the clan leader shouted, his voice loud and echoing through the trees before fading away.

"There's no point in arguing now, we have to leave now!" I said, drawing everyone's attention.

The moment I locked eyes with the clan leader, I knew I'd made a mistake. The man looked at me in annoyance, clenching his fists at his side and glaring at the bystanders.

"Whatever it is, we can't let it go. If it is in our lands it can become a danger to the clan" he said.

The heads of the families muttered, unsure of what to do. I mentally cursed Gunnar for his stubbornness, but also myself for getting carried away and acting rashly. I seriously doubted that the clan leader would actually want to go after whatever had caused this carnage, but now that I had spoken he could not accept my proposal.

"Hildiric is right. If this is some monstrosity of legend, we cannot hope to face it with our own strength," said Leudbald, another of the heads of the family. Perhaps it was his inexperience - he had only been the householder of his lineage for a few months - or perhaps it was simple fear that made him speak like this, but it only made him angrier.

"If you want to run away, go ahead, the shame will fall on your lineage!" he barked.

It was a low blow. Even Gunnar realized it the moment he said those words, but the milk had been milked and could not be returned to the udders to feed the calf.

There was no way to leave without a direct fight, but before I could say anything, a roar shook the ground to our very bones. At that moment I felt as if my soul had tugged at my body in an attempt to get out and escape. With great difficulty I finally managed to look up at the sky.

In the midst of the white clouds something was flying, so far away that it seemed a fly flying among the sheep. It made a few evolutions, disappearing and reappearing in the clouds, before turning clearly and swooping down towards us.

At that moment every thought was completely swept from my head, my limbs became heavy as anvils that pinned me where I stood and the air was crushed out of my lungs by a cold hand.

Then I was overwhelmed by a blinding light.