Hunting the Huntsmen

“I never liked these woods” I said to my fellow hunter “I’ve heard too many stories”. The wind rustled the leaves through the forest, the only sound breaking the deafening silence. “what kind of stories?” he grumbles back. “The kind with monsters and death” I respond with a worried tone, squinting through the dark woods, searching for anything moving. “calm yourself man! They’re just meant to scare children, there are no monsters in these woods, only myths” He said, readjusting his quiver. “But what about the werewolf? Folk say that he still prowls these woods, stalking those unfortunate souls that wander too deep into the forest, and what about the animals they found? Torn to pieces with their carcasses thrown about.” My voice was shaky, as were my arms. The hunter sighs, grabbing my shoulder “those people who talk of the werewolf are either fools or sick in the head. Even if there were something in these woods, its nothing we couldn’t handle.” Just then a twig snapped from the brush beside us, followed by a rumbling growl that sent a chill down my spine.

 I began shaking as I looked into the brush, seeing only a pair of red eyes reflecting in the moonlight. As I reached for my bow the beast leaped out of the bush, landing mere feet in front of me. I fell over backwards in fear as the werewolf snarled and crept towards me, but just then the hunter lobbed a stone that connected with the side of his head. “Over here, foul monster!” he yelled. The werewolf recoiled and locked onto my friend, slowly stepping towards him. “Run now!” he yelled to me “run and tell the king that he is real, and in these woods!”. I did exactly that, I ran, ran faster than I ever had before, not looking back even once. The twigs and scrub scratched my face and arms as I pushed through the woods, hearing the sickening screams of the man who saved me fade behind me. It was up to me to ensure the king new what lurked in these woods so close to home, knowing full well he would not miss the glory of hunting such a beast. The woods once again were silent, as was I. Nothing dared make a sound in these woods that new what lurked in the shadows.

(Based on The Lais of Marie de France, Bisclavret, pp. 144-160)