Revenge

            Caleb crouched, waiting for the buck, which was a few feet away, to get closer.

‘Just a little more.’ He urged silently, but the buck kept grazing and Caleb was forced to wait for what seemed like hours in his crouched position.

CRACK! As the buck looked up, Caleb tensed. It spun its head around, trying to figure out where the sound had come from, then with a resounding snort, it turned and bounded away into the deep heart of the forest, with Caleb watching it in silent anger.

“Now I need to find another.” He muttered crossly.

            Caleb Matthews, a tall nineteen year old boy, had sandy blonde hair that stuck up in random places and eyes that were centered with creases between his eyebrows from frowning. His eyes were both different colors, one was electric blue and the other a shadowy brown. The lines at the corners of them told people of his good humor. His high cheek bones and a square jaw gave him a look of authority. The sun had given him dark skin. Because of his broad shoulders, strong arms and legs, and that fact that he was fairly skinny, he could have been a decent acrobat. The only things that hinted what his past had been like, were the mysterious white scars on his back that could have been from beatings and the lines on his face that were telltales of the stress he had been under.

            When Caleb had been ten, his parents had been killed in an accident that involved the werewolves. His dad had been out hunting, his mom tagging along. Caleb’s dad heard something move in the underbrush and he had shot his arrow, killing the Werewolf King’s son. The King in return, killed Caleb’s parents and was now hunting him, thinking only of revenge. Caleb had been running away from him for nine years.

            Finally, because he reckoned he had found a safe place, Caleb settled in the no-man’s-land forest. He had built himself a cottage and now lived as a tracker. He hardly ever rode into town, and instead grew and made his own stuff, and he was known though out the area for it. Even in the winter, when food was scarce, he had no problem hunting down a rabbit or a hare, but little did he know what was in store for him.

Now, he turned to leave, but heard foot steps behind him. He whipped around, but found nothing. A foul smell filled the air. It smelled like a mix between rotting bone and singed fur. Caleb retched and pulled the front of his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose. The smell evoked a memory, but he couldn’t quite recall what it was. A knot of worry formed in his stomach. Whatever was out there, he didn’t want to meet it.

Caleb stood up and started to slowly back away in the direction of his house, because he did not want to be caught by the beast which he knew was lurking in the shadows just out of sight. As he backed away, something caught his arm and cut into it. In the dying light of the sun, Caleb brought his arm up to inspect it and found a long cut across his forearm. Blood welled up on the surface of the throbbing cut and slid down his arm.

Caleb glanced around. His vision passed by a dark form which crouched in the shadows, not two feet away from him. Then it sprang. Caleb threw his arms up to shield himself from the attack. The creature’s jagged teeth sank into his arm and Caleb cried out in pain.

After a fierce struggle, Caleb was able to drag the thing off him. The thing growled and thrashed in his arms, making it hard to comprehend what it was. All Caleb knew was that it was strong- very strong and had fur.

After a couple of minutes, both the creature and Caleb were on their backs, panting.

“It was an accident.” Caleb whispered, when he turned and noticed who the creature was. The Werewolf King eyed him with yellow eyes that were filled with hatred and snarled.

“You call killing a werewolf, an accident?! I say it was on PURPOSE!” The werewolf lunged at Caleb again. Caleb groaned and kicked upward in a spontaneous gesture. The werewolf yelped like a hurt puppy and skidded on his side across the clearing, where he lay motionless.

Caleb lay there for a while, trying to catch his breath. He noticed that the Werewolf King hadn’t come after him again. He raised himself on an elbow and searched the clearing for the King, but his worry was unnecessary. The Werewolf King, who had knocked his head against a rock, was now dead.

Moral: Revenge can become an obsession.

Author's Note

I tend to write about mythical creatures and such, so I hope it isn't boring. I hope you enjoy it!

Reviews

[matrixmark]

Good vivid descriptives used for Caleb, giving the reader a very strong impression of what this person looked like. The way in which you introduced Calebs past fitted nicely and kept the flow consistent for the reader, giving them an understanding of why he was on the run. As the piece moves on, you really feel involved in calebs life as a loner/hunter/survivor. I wnjoyee the scene between caleb and the werewof having a tussle.

Overall a really well constructed/structured piece.
Mark.

[illie pete]

Thank you, Mark.

[matrixmark]

Pleased to have read it.

Mark.