My friend explained that he once followed that evil beast after it snatched a horse from a stable. It's prey was so large that the monster was slowed considerably. Though my friend still found it difficult to keep up, the horse's blood stained the foliage, leaving a crimson trail to follow.

   He eventually found the thing's home; there was a labrynth of a canyon to the south, and in one of the many branches, the skulking creature made it's nest amidst the bones of it's many meals.

   The journey would take three days to reach the jungle's border that might as well have been the world's end for most of the Ronio townsfolk. Along the way, I told him about the plight of our homeland, and about the mission my father gave me to slay the defiler. How he had hunted the beast every chance he had-- every time he could muster a force formidable enough to face their oppressor. I told him how, in his last days, he called me to his bed where he lay dying and gave me his mission...

   ...and how I refused.

   When he had died, I was too ashamed to stay in town, so I fled for the woods. Yet I was too afraid to face the beast. He had entrusted me with the task of saving our people, and I fled. I had no courage. I had no honor. I was an embarassment-- a stain on the tapestry of our clan! He must have died with great regret and shame in me. But could they blame me? I thought the beast must have been indominable, as even our greatest hunting bands could not succeed.

   But what if they had failed because they were too great in numbers? Maybe they never caught the beast because the size of their party gave away their presence. But... what of two men? What if we could corner it; approaching quietly enough that it would not notice us until the trap was sprung? The terrible fiend may be hungry enough and over-confident enough to fight us directly. The odds are truely against us, but is there no hope at all? Are we doomed already? Even if I meet my end against that dread beast, it would be better that than to wait and die in exile, hiding in holes in the ground.

   It took two more day's travel through the jungle to reach the canyon. It was, as he had described, labrynthine. The towering walls were layered grey stone topped with thick, green vegitation and over-hanging vines. We crossed a stream which ran through the canyon bed, which my friend said the beast used to wash its scent. However, it was now to our advantage against the monster, as the creature would now be unaware of our presence so close to it's home. We patiently waited in a canyon branch just opposite our quarry's nest, our ambush ready to spring.

   After hours of waiting, finally, it appeared. The thing had mottled grey scales, a long neck, and six legs, though each foot more closely resembled a hand than a proper animal's paw. It's body was long and slender, not unlike a serpent. However, it's face was its most distinct feature. It had four large, bulging eyes; two greater, and two lesser. It had a mouth of remarkable girth-- as broad as a man's shoulders, and full of fangs like curved daggers, which it displayed in a cruel and ruthless grin. And, atop it's forehead, a single horn-- straight, with a coiled pattern and of a distinctly greenish tint at the base. Though it was still a bow's shot away, I could see why it's face left such a lasting impression on my father's memory. In fact, its terrible image would haunt my own dreams for many nights to come.

  We stepped out of hiding, and approached it with our weapons at the ready. It saw us, and immediately decided that we were food. When it came at us, I gave the command to fire, but it evaded our initial shots without difficulty. We hastened to reload as it scrambled over the rocky pass towards us, scattering sun-bleached bones in it's wake. My long bow, despite the force required to pull the string, was much faster to reload than the crossbow, and so I was ready to fire again first, and let fly the feathered bodkin. This found the beast's forward left knee, and it staggered briefly on its path. As I drew a third arrow, my friend fired a bolt at the monster as it drew near. Despite his inexperience, his shot stuck true. The bolt sunk deep into the beast's shoulder. It shrieked as it drew back it's front paw. Just as I aimed my third arrow, it swung it's claw and broke both our weapons with a single blow. By immeasurable luck, it's swipe arched just over my forward hand. Had it swung lower, it would have slashed my arm to the bone.

   As the thing hastened to dislodge the bolt and arrow from it's hide, we reached down for the spears. The boar spears-- designed for hunting the feroceous wild boars in the area-- had each a pair of steel spikes jutting out to the sides, just below the spear head. This kept the hog back, that it could not advance and wound the hunter with it's tusks. We had less confidence it would work against this monster, but we had little other choice.

   It came at us, but as we raised the spears, it stopped, and kept it's distance. We tried to jab at it, but it seemed to have developed a means of self defense where in it would use it's front hands to bat the spears away. We tried to separate and flank it, but it would sidestep more quickly, and keep us together. We tried our attacks repeatedly, but it's defense was effective. I stopped for a few moments and thought. When again I attacked, I made three quick thrusts at it's chest. It swatted the first two away as he did the others, but on the third, I twisted the spear so that as it tried to deflect, it stuck its paw on the spike. In that moment of surprise and pain, it's defenses lowered, and my friend made a lunge with his own polearm, stabbing the beast's belly. It instantly retaliated by striking at the spear's shaft with it's free hand-- as the other was still stuck on my spear. By some stroke of luck, the wooden shaft broke such that it formed one sharpened point, with which he jabbed it again, though with less effect, as it now lacked a steel tip.

   It then pulled my spear back, which flew from its hand and clattered against the cliff rocks a great distance away. It struck the remains of my friend's spear, and this time it broke to a useslessly splintered stump. Wounded and in pain, the monster's eyes seem to pulse with wrath. We drew the hatchets from our sides, but without the reach of the pole arms, it had little need for restraint, and was now on the offensive.

   It made a quick jump at us, but we dodged it's attack to each side, effecively surrounding it. More importantly, it stepped on one of the three bear traps we had set for it. The iron jaw clamped onto the beast's foot, and it roared in pain and fury. Facing me, it had it's back to my friend. Once he felt he had an opening, he ran at it while brandishing the hand axe. But the fiend heard him, turned it's head to see him, and knocked him away with a swing of it's tail. I tried to rush at it in that moment, but it spun around and knocked me down with its tail as well. As fast as I could, I took my axe and threw it. It struck the back of the monster's head, but only by the handle. I drew my father's hunting knife from my side and ran at it. It turned towards me. As my friend tried to get up, the beast's tail rose and came down on him again, and left him winded. It ran at me, claws poised to strike. It was no longer making quick, short steps, it was charging full speed.

   My instinct, upon seeing the horror come right at me, was to back away, if not to flee outright. But a thought came to me-- it's origin I could not say. I stood still, and as it came close, I lunged towards it. With it's momentum built up, it could not stop quick enough to have me at arm's reach. This close, it could not strike me. But even as my dagger plunged into it's chest, it's speed did not immediately diminish. I found myself holding on by the knife, as it dragged me over the rocky ground, and through the stream. It was trying to shake me, but I held fast.

   Eventually, the twisting of the dagger was more than it could stand. It stopped and tried to grab at me, but I let go of the weapon, and fell under his snatching paws-- and nearly on to one of the other bear traps, which lay just to the right of my face, mere inches away. The beast loomed over me, ready to bite down at me with it's jaws like the inside of an iron maiden. I wanted to shuffle backwards in an attempt to keep out of it's reach, but again I had the idea to keep close to it. It bit down just as I rolled forward. I found myself below it's midsection, and just before me, the broken spear head. As it tried to back away to find me, I pulled the steel blade out from it's belly. It shrieked and hopped back, but I had the blade in hand, and plunged it again into it's body.

   From under the monster, I could see my friend's feet as he ran towards the enemy. He jumped at the monster, and I could hear him strike at it with his axe. I twisted the spear head in it's body, and it tried to back up, but it tripped and stumbled backwards and to the ground. Despite it's injuries, however, we knew it was still capable of a fatal stroke at any instant. We gave no moment for it to strike. We lept upon it, and struck maddly. I shut my eyes tight and attacked blindly, anticipating a talon would take my head at any moment. All I could do was to cause as much injury as possible as quickly as I could. I heard it shriek in rage as we asailed it, and I could feel it's hot, vile blood on my hands and face.

   Eventually, I noticed that I could not hear it, and I stopped my attack. Even then, I dared not open my eyes. What if it is not slain, and it is waiting for me to open my eyes, for me to look into the evil gaze before taking my head? But no, I reassured myself. Surely the deed is done... I cannot wait here, blind and unmoving forever. I opened my eyes.

   It was not dead.

   It stared up at me, and for an instant, I thought my fears were realized. But the beast was on its last breathes, and it's three-eyed stare, though venomous and hateful, was all it had left. It made its final assault-- not on my body, but on my mind, as the image of its grotesque and furious visage, bloodied and dying, was burned into my very soul, and would haunt my mind for years to come. But that I could live with, for the Humakora was dead at last.

   That night, for the first time in years, I slept under open sky.

   We made our way back to Ronio; in my hand I carried the horn. We came in the night, so that I could visit my father's grave without disturbance. I had never been to his grave before, but it was not hard to find. We went to the cemetary, and I could see from a distance the banner borne by great hunting parties. The flag, once the proud and glorious symbol of our city and all we stood for, hung faded and tattered over his grave. The air was still, and the banner lay limp and uninspiring.

   His tomb was humble and plain, engraved with only what one might expect on a headstone as well as an inch-deep crevice that served as the sole decoration.

   "I... I did it, Father." I said faintly, my hand grasping the horn. "I killed the Humakora."

   "He has the horn." My friend said, then added, to me, "Show him."

   Without thinking, I held the trophy out in front of me, as if my father were right there to see it. But he was long dead, and he must have died ashamed of me.

   Then my friend asked me, quite unexpectedly, "What is the significance of that engraving?"

   In my contemplation, his words did not quite register at first. I hardly heard him at all.

   "What was that?" I asked.

   "That there." He pointed to the object of his curiosity. "Does it mean something?"

   I hadn't paid much attention to it until now. It was about fifteen inches long, two inches wide at one end and tapered to a point at the other. There was a spiral pattern to the engraving that I did not notice before.

   Suddenly, all became clear, and the veil was lifted from my eyes. I knelt down, and placed the horn into the slot: a perfect fit. I stood and stared at it, and wondered what it might mean.

   "Why would he have had that engraving put there" my friend asked, "if he knew he wouldn't live to kill the beast?"

   "Because... maybe he knew I'd come back. Maybe he had faith in me all along. Do you think?" I asked hopefully.

   My friend thought a moment, then nodded. "His boots fit you well. You are a hunter after all. But a hunter of demons rather than of beasts of the earth."

   As we stood in silence, a breeze blew in from over the hill, and the flag came to life, waving on its pole. It no longer seemed like the marker of a fallen hero, but a battle banner, flying high over a victorious army marching home after suffering war and exodus, even if it had to be handed down to the next generation.

   I stood in awe of the sight of it, and what it meant, trying in vain to keep the tears from my eyes.

   Before long, the solid black of the night sky began to give way to a deep indigo, and I knew we had to leave. Though the task was done, I would not return to life in Ronio. Not yet.

   "Will you go back to guarding your spring?" I asked my friend. "Or will you come with me?"

   "But... the deed is done. Your haunting foe is slain. Where else do you need to go?"

   "North." I said to him, pointing in that direction. "To the next town. I have one last mission."

   He gave me a questioning look.

   "Most of my people were forced to leave this place." I explained. "They will be eager to learn that home awaits their return."