Hunters

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Two hunters go on a small hunting expedition when they are confronted by an unexpected danger...

Submitted: September 05, 2013

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Submitted: September 05, 2013

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HUNTERS

 

Fall was an ideal hunting season and Kip knew it. His feet trudged through the muddy terrain and he sneezed. It was normal at this time of year. He’d be doing a lot of sneezing if the pollen was still in the air. His eyes scanned the area for his friend, Jart, who often accompanied him on his little hunting trips. Jart was nowhere to be seen and this troubled Kip since only he knew this forest in and out. They’d known each other for quite some time now; Jart lived in this area all his life just like his ancestors whereas Kip had moved in a few years ago with his wife. Now, with the coming of his twins, Kip had to hunt more. More than he had ever done before. Hunting was dangerous, rabbits and the occasional doe were welcome but elks and other much larger animals were a real bother. He had heard of panthers and their claws, the wily bobcat and his cousin, the cougar. Each posed a danger to the inexperienced hunter that he would like to avoid.

Suddenly, a rustle in the bushes! Kip spun around and the rustling stopped. His heart beat faster, his eyes darted furiously in all directions: He was tense…. alone…. unprepared! The worst part was that he didn’t even know what to do. He was not accustomed to such a large forest filled with wild cats that would rip him to shreds without hesitation.

A figure jumped out of the bushes. Kip instinctively moved to the side and sprinted a hundred meters. Then he heard an all too familiar voice.

“Gotcha!” giggled Jart, jumping out from behind with a sly grin on his face.  Kip let out a sigh of relief, there he was! Jart always wasted his mind on useless pranks.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” said Kip continuing down the path.

Jart smiled: “I said I WAS coming, I didn’t say I’d be on time.”

“You’re a real jerk, you know!” hissed the novice.

“No harm done,” said Jart sticking his tongue out, “Anyways, last night, I found some tracks about a mile north of here. “

“That’s Indian Territory, we’ll be killed.”

“Not if we play it safe.”

“Forget it, Jart, I can’t go,” said Kip, “I have Rena and the two kids.”

“How is the famous glutton?” shot back the expert, “Still eating?”

“No, and you know she was eating too much it was because of the twins.”

“Are you sure she was eating for twins or just for herself?” teased Jart.

Kip growled: “For the twins! Now enough of your childish taunts.”

“It’s a joke, Kip, I knew she was eating for three.”

“You’re a real donkey at times, a dimwit hee-haw!”

“What?”

“Yes, all you need to do is bray and you can prance along with them!” said Kip.

“Well, you’re a full-fledged donkey, so you lead the way!” growled Jart.

Kip cringed inwardly; Jart was terrible at taking some of his own medicine.

“Go and die at the hands of some savage or wild cat, Rena would be left to fend for herself!” continued Jart, stopping in his tracks.

“Jart, I didn’t mean it that way, I just—“

Jart turned and started walking away.

“You’re on your own, Kip, I’m out of this!” muttered Jart.

Kip went after his friend but Jart darted further and further. It was no use. Jart was a better runner and more adapted to this forest. Kip continued to jog after him but his stamina could not match up to his jilted friend’s.

Kip stopped, not because he was tired, because Jart had stopped, frozen on the path.

Kip took a few steps further, curious as to why Jart’s ears were pricked up and his wide apart.

“Shhh…” Jart whispered, “Don’t come close, I hear something.”

In the next moment, both their ears shook as a loud sound shook the surrounding air.

Instinctively, Kip dived into a nearby bush.

The next thing Kip saw would shock him for the rest of his life.

In the middle of a pool of blood, lay his once lively friend. Jart was breathing heavily as blood poured out of him.

The wounded hunter saw his friend in the bushes and his eyes went wider.

Jart opened his mouth: “Kip… Run!”

Kip was too scared to say anything.

Jart somehow got to his knees and took a few steps. Once more the sound echoed in the air and Jart’s body spurted some more of the red liquid.

This time Jart had nothing, either to say or to do.

Kip was now frightened. He didn’t know what to do. Who? Why? How?

He heard footsteps approaching and finally saw two men, their pale sweaty skin and golden hair one of the many things Kip hadn’t seen in his life.

“Got one!” laughed one of them, holding a big stick in his hand.

Kip wanted to run but kicked the idea out of his head.

“Good for a man who’s been at sea for about seven months, right?” said the stick wielding man to the younger more nervous one.

For Kip, it was nothing new. It was the sad reality, first it was the Indians and now these pale men.

After all, what was he to do? He was only a fox….

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2019 David Haziri. All rights reserved.

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