Hunter's Walk (#19:Pain)
BtVs and its timeline by Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon. Many elements present here, such as this
concept of mutation and superpowered mutants, certain storylines and several main characters, are taken/adapted from the Marvel Universe (X-Men, for the most part), which is owned by the parent company and *many* authors and illustrators.
Written for the TtH100 (Clawed!Slayerverse). Prompt 19:Pain. Word Count: 802 Time: Ancient
Two men walked confidently along the edge of a canyon. For ages the herds their tribe depended on for food had migrated through the thin stretch of land below them. This year, none had made it through and they had been sent to find out why.
One was Gerra, named after the god of fire and light, but his chosen weapons and exploits in the dead of night meant everyone called him 'The Hunter'.
The other man had destroyed every trace of his real name - a kind of flower, according to rumor - but he was called 'Trapper' because of his stealth, his patience and his snares.
Thanks to their gifts they were the tribe's foremost defense and main provider of food doing the lean times. This saved them from being sent to allied tribes closer to the front, to fight in the war that had already claimed many of their friends. Now this crisis and their understanding of wild things had sent them far from home.
The Hunter walked a kind of loping gait, swinging his head side to side as he sniffed the night air. He was thinking of Sineya, the girl they were both in love with... The cause of much heartache.
Trapper scratched his forearms as he walked. The pressure building up behind his wrists was itching like crazy. He was muttering something to his friend about stopping for 'target practice' when the ground around them exploded.
Dust stung Trapper's eyes, making it harder for him to aim, but the attackers were close and thick. He felt the familiar burn as thick webbing erupted from his arms to cover the yellow-eyed man in front of him. Pulling his spear from behind his back, he forced his target to the ground and drove the sharp head deep into the chest. He's not dying,
Trapper thought, horrified, as he pushed even harder, until the wooden shaft made contact with the other man's heart - at which point the prone man exploded into a cloud of dust.
Trapper spun around, shouting about what had happened, only to see a powerful blow send his friend flying off the edge of the cliff.
Hearing the sickening crunch, Trapper bolted for the nearby trees, not wanting to continue this fight in the open, alone.
The attackers pursued him - faster than should have been possible - and the fight was quickly over.
Trapper felt a pain at his throat, something wet in his mouth, an ache and a tearing that went to the very core of his being... And he knew no more.
The midday sun baked the canyon where a man's body lay, contorted by the fall from the walls high above. A vulture circled lower and lower, only to break off its landing when the body gasped raggedly for air.Ouch, my head.
thought the Hunter as he dragged himself to a sitting position. What happened? I must have been laying here all night...
Gritting his teeth through the pain, he tried to rise to his feet, until he noticed his legs were bent at an odd angle.Just great,
he thought as he forced the bones back into position. Can't move for a few more hours and then I need to climb out of here... Trapper's not okay, or he'd have found me by now... Let's hope he's still alive.
The Hunter winced as his healing factor continued its slow process. The injuries were pretty severe, but he was no stranger to pain. He had to deal with it every day just to use the tools of his trade. "Speaking of which
" he muttered, flexing a certain powerful set of muscles.
*SNIKT* came the sound of bone tearing through flesh as long spears erupted from behind his knuckles, three to each hand. He winced as the newly opened wounds began to leak blood, until his skin healed around the exposed bones. Sniffing the air, he laid back and closed his eyes. There was nothing to do but wait.
Drawn by the scent of fresh blood and the other smells that surrounded the man, the vulture circled closer and closer. The bird knew from experience with the area that, even though the man was still alive, those that 'survived' the fall from above never put up much of a fight.
The vulture landed and began to study the man intently, before hopping closer to its prey. The shallow breathing did not change in rate, even when the vulture perched on his chest. As it bent to feed there was a sudden burst of movement and a bone claw pierced the bird's lightweight skull.
A flash of pain and it was all over.
The Hunter grinned fiercely and began to rip into the meat; his healing factor always worked best when his belly was full...
Hours later, well past nightfall, the panting hunter pulled himself over the lip of the canyon and laid there for a moment, exhausted.