The tavern’s doors flew open wildly and landed against the opposing walls with a resounding crack. A sharp wind, tangible and cold blew through the room, silencing the patrons and sending leaves and trail dust to the farthest corners. At the center of the chaos, in the shadow of the still-open door stood the Hunter. The patrons eyed him warily, sensing something powerful and merciless in his presence.
"I see you have some sense after all!" The Hunter declared to the entire commons room in a sharp, authoritative tone. The tavern’s regulars looked to each other in confusion and scarcely concealed fear, unsure of what he was referring to. But certain that such a declaration was not indicative of a stable mind.
The Hunter was a tall man, lean and well muscled. His legs and arms were clad in worn, oiled leather. A dark blue, woolen jacket crisscrossed with the straps of various pouches covered his broad chest, and hanging from his belt and wrists were hundreds of detachable tassels, presumably for tying the feet of trapped vermin. There was the smell of death upon him, dangerous and intimidating. He seemed a ghost among men.
"Have you seen him?" His rough voice bellowed, spitefully addressing the whole crowd, too contemptuous to single any individual out for special attention. They were all inferiors from his perspective.
"Seen who?" Somebody managed to whisper in reply.
The Hunter’s face snapped to the speaker, who cowered in response. His eyes glittered in the firelight and his scraggly beard seemed to wrestle with itself. Sharp eyes stared out from the chaos of his face. Piercing blue. Eyes honed in the wilderness that that could detect a rabbit from two thousand yards away. Wild eyes. The speaker knew there was nothing he could hide from that intense gaze.
After a careful inspection, the Hunter’s visage transformed from suspicious scrutiny to a leering grin. He leaned back and put his fingers into his belt before he answered, though this did nothing to dispel the tension in the room.
"My quarry? Have you seen my quarry?"
Startled glances were again exchanged among the patrons. They had no idea what this statement referred to, but from the look of the Hunter, they understood their ignorance would in no way stave off any punishment for failing to deliver.
The Hunter gave a suspicious look around the commons area and then turned his back on it. As he bolted the front door, he began to speak again, his words muffled as they reflected off the walls and bounced around the firelight near-darkness.
"I’m looking for a coward." His head snapped around to the room regarding the patrons with a sly, half-opened eye. "Any cowards among this group?" Heads dropped in silence, feet shuffled in terror. The Hunter laughed.
"Fear not, I only seek one." And he laughed a loud roar as he began to walk around the perimeter of the building.
As he reached the first window and began to bolt it shut, he spoke again.
"I have no idea what he looks like."
He continued to stroll casually to the second window, speaking as he bolted it.
"Nobody has seen him for ten years."
The third and final window snapped shut, tightly, under a leather covered hand.
"But there are one or two who remember him."
The crowed fidgeted again, nobody dared to stand against this man, he was too confident, too contemptuous, and he was in absolute control. But it did not escape their attention that he was sealing them in, their fear was growing, but they were paralyzed to resist it.
The first door beside the fireplace was shut and locked, then the second, and just like that, the last exit was gone. The last chance for escape.
The Hunter continued to talk.
"A thousand miles away there is a small town on the coast of the great sea." He continued to walk, slowly, methodically, through the center of the room. Hands brushing against taught bodies that instinctively jumped away.
"In that town there is a small house where a mother and a father still weep for their lost daughter." He stopped and crouched slightly, his nose drifted back and forth in a graceful sway, his whole body lost in concentration as he sniffed the air delicately.
He stood that way for a long moment. Looking more like an animal than a man, eyes closed but fluttering in concentration. The body moving fluidly and drifting to the strange harmonies of nature. The crowd held its breath collectively.
Abruptly, his eyes dropped back to the room, and he smiled, a harsh and toothy smile. "He’s here," He declared with authority. "I can smell him." It was a bluff, but nobody could have known that.
The declaration was too much for Old Bertrand, a small time merchant. He leapt from his seat with a squeal of fear and ran to the far door. Desperately he worked the handle, trying to get out. Behind him the Hunter began to walk. His thick books echoing off the floor and resounding across the room like a death bell.
"He’s here, and I knew I could smoke him out!" The hunter spat the words with excitement and hatred. Bertrand squealed, he clawed at the door, his fingers bleeding, but the Hunter had sealed it well, and Bertrand had not made any progress in his escape other than a few superficial scratches by the time the Hunter’s gloved hand slapped down on his shoulder.
The Hunter spun the fat merchant around and glared harshly into Bertrand’s blubbering face. He examined it for a few minutes, the pressure of his grip increasing steadily as he grew surer of his deduction.
"At last I’ve found you, ten years and I’ve found you!" He declared triumphantly. "I’ve never seen your face before or heard a description, I’ve never listened to the sound of your voice, or taken note of your smell, or possessed even the slightest clue that would incriminate you." He was listing off these obstacles franticly, drunk with the realization that he had overcome them. It was as if he had reached the climax of a hounding obsession, ten years of emotion poured out at once.
"But here you are, in my custody. They told me it couldn’t be done. They told me to forget." At this he paused and looked hard. "But tell me this you fool, something you should have considered ten years ago, did you really think that it was the perfect crime? You left no clues, you left no trace, but there was one thing you didn‘t account for!" His eyes narrowed again with absolute hatred. "You neglected to consider the determination of a grieving brother!"
Bertrand let out a squeal of horror and went limp. The Hunter took no notice. He simply heaved the body under one heavy arm and stomped heavily towards the door. He flung it open with a single hand and didn’t ever look back as he walked out into the night.
The remaining patrons let loose a sigh of relief. A certain shock had taken hold, and they weren’t likely to forget the events of the night any time soon.
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