Faint glimmers of sunlight to the East, the narrow crevice between the shadowy mountains and the quickly darkening clouds fill with a blinding light. Birds stir and call out to morning in their chaotic tongue, eventually taking flight to pierce the veil of sunrise and emerge from the darkness of the brush. The trees have flowered early, and their unfortunate offspring lay in a deep carpet of tired Brandeis blue, malachite, and dogwood rose. Old branches reach down to the earth with waned strength and resilience, seeming to lay in wait for some unsuspecting being to snatch up off the ground.
Great trees of dark slate grey bark and trunks seven feet around and up shelter and confine everything in the forest. The oldest trees skyrocket beyond the thin canopy of the younger growths, casting shadows in all directions with every sunrise and sunset. They bent oddly at the branches and seemed to be falling outward from the center, like a bushel of twigs with only one tie towards the end, and linked with other nearby branches, entire ceilings of nothing but tree limbs. Smaller undergrowth below hung to their snaking roots, many as thick as a man's thigh, and created rows and walls of nothing but green.
Among this crept a deer, or at least the descendant of one. The animal's eyes were too wide and oval, deep set iris' flashing a bright brown before sinking back into it's black pool of an eye. It smelled the air cautiously, one foreleg held in anticipation. It's curled horns moved with every sway, every quick glance, veins of ebony coursing through them. The Deer crouched for a moment and lifted it's head to a branch overhang that creaked from some unseen stress, then, it leapt.
They were blurs of movement. Bipedal when need be but showing just as much flare for quadrupedal locomotion when it came down to it, they wore nothing but tribal masks fashioned to look like numerous animals, one a long beaked bird with blood-red slits at the eye, another a rounded head-cover with curled bone carvings like a boar's teeth. Young, filthy and strained, the hunters rushed from all around. They swung from low hanging branches and hefted great clubs made of smooth wood and implanted stones, doing more damage to the forest floor and the great trees than the animal they chased. One swung a crude sword of sharpened metal, the grip no more than cloth and twine wrapped tightly around the unsharpened end, and severed all the tendons in the deer's right hind-leg, sending it into a crooked crash that slammed the poor beast into a tree.
They whooped and hollered and danced around the wounded animal, the one who landed the devastating blow holding his weapon to the sky and shouting in incoherent intervals of what could have been words. They all calmed, finally, and stood over the deer in reverence. The tallest of the group walked forward, the bird mask hanging loosely at his neck. He wore a face of tired surprise, most likely that their impromptu ambush was successful, dirty black hair hanging down over his eyes. He took a deep breath and crouched down, checking the deer's neck, head and back. He clicked his tongue and whispered something to the nearest hunter, who shouted through his wolf-faced mask at the rest of them.
They all removed their masks and came together, young boys covered in scratches, healed over gouges and gashes and tired sweat, leaning down to touch their prize. The deer's chest heaved in fear, kicking it's undamaged limb fruitlessly at it's captors. An even taller, more robust boy appeared from the brush, his head adorned in a short beaked mask that resembled a hawk, and drew a short curved knife, the younger boys pulling away. He came close to the others and reached down to the deer's throat, dragging the blade along from side to side effortlessly.
It squirmed only for a moment, bringing some remorseful tears from the youngest of the group, and soon lay perfectly still, a murky puddle of blood, leaves and mud at it's head. The hawk headed boy grabbed the deer's horns and lifted the head, nodding to the others to take hold. Several of them took hold and lifted the carcass, pushing it forward so that it sat on the eldest shoulders.
They took no more than two steps when thunder roared through the trees. The tallest boy fell quickly, not a sign of pain on his face, a massive hole through him and the deer carcass. More thunder erupted and everything exploded in splinters and showers of mud and burning leaves. Two of the boys fell flat on the ground, writhing from their burning wounds. All the second eldest could do in the chaos was shout something as loudly as he could, taking off into the safety of the farthest trees. The others followed, crying and howling as they went.
The scene became silent again. Everything quiet, everything still, everything dead. Slow, rhythmic footsteps approached the slaughter, and soon stopped at just the edge of the cast light from the trees, the sun now fully out. One figure stepped into the light, a boy not much older than the deceased elder Hawk. He stepped towards the deer and held his rifle at his hip, breathing shallowly to allow him to hear everything. He lowered his weapon and pulled back his hood, a morose look on his face. His short black hair dripped with perspiration, the thick hunting garb not helping keep him comfortable. The thick cloth folds and ties at his chest, waist and legs held the brown and black material tied to his body, the padded armor on his torso giving him a bloated look. He crouched at the deer and shook his head, prodding the dead boy nearby with the butt of his rifle.
"Are they done Radley?"
"They're dead, if that's what you mean."
"That's as done as you can get boy."
Other men stepped from the shadows, all clad in the same darkly colored material as him, beards snaking out of the neck of their hoods.
"Damn animals." Said the burly hunter holding a snub-nosed rifle, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he moved to examine one of the dead boys.
"The Deer ran, it didn't try to fight."
"I was talking bout those things in the masks."
"They're human."
"They're Feral, is what they is."
Radley stood and tugged at the tie at his chest, a full layer of material unfolding and hanging at his waist.
"We about ready to go?"
"Soon as we pick up the deer."
"What about the bodies?"
The burly hunter laughed and nudged one of the corpses over, moving it's head back and forth with the toe of his boot.
"Been bad hunting for the wolves, best give 'em something 'fore they come 'round the settlement."
Radley slicked back his moist hair, spitting to his right and shaking his head.
"Whatever, lets just get back."
"First wise thing you've said boy."
The hunters tugged and tied the deer carcass to the burly hunter's back, following after Radley and talking amongst themselves. Radley looked up among the tree branches and saw quick flashes of movement, nimble, rapid things that never held still long enough for you to get a good look. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and spat to his right again, whistling a quick tune and looking back to the branches.
"They aint gonna know the song kid, they dont know much beyond how to shit 'n eat."
"Worth a try."
The countless birds that had taken flight at first light returned slowly, roosting where they may in their arbitrary way. A long beaked bird crouched on a secure shelf of branches and watched the party pass by, the revealed boy leading them glancing up in his direction. The beak turned slightly, then turned back, re-thinking flight. The boy continued walking, not even noticing it.
The boy pulled down his mask and growled, slowly crawling backwards on all fours away from the open edge. He leapt out and moved among the branches, other quick figures joining him. The smallest of them let out a howl, and they all followed suit. A wolf sniffing the corpse of the hawk-headed boy paused and raised it's ears to the wind, catching the directionless howl. It glanced about, then back at the body, then turned and slowly walked away, vanishing into a nearby thicket.
