Paths Beyond (Under Rewrite)

Past the thick elms in a snow-covered forest, a young man sat patiently in the brush of slumbering bushes. His breath was slow and deliberate, with only the barest wisp of condensed air escaping his lips. His steely silver eyes concentrated on a thin, deep-orange line streaking across the landscape. At its end stood a horned, four-legged creature, glancing warily around before lowering its head to resume eating a small rodent it must have recently killed. The beast's bristled black fur rippled like shadows with the wind, a natural shield against the biting cold.

A hulking form of flesh covered by a dense thicket of fur, with thick muscles bulging from its legs and a singular horn protruding from the top of its cranium, the animal resembled a woolly rhinoceros. Massive and intimidating, it was unmistakably a Hooded Horn, one of the deep forest's most elusive and dangerous creatures.

The young man, now certain the beast was preoccupied with its meal, extended his arm slowly and reached into the quiver strapped to his back. He nocked an arrow onto his bow, his movements careful and silent as not to alert his prey. His eyes followed the translucent orange line floating in the air, centering on the creature's chest. With deliberate precision, he drew the bowstring far behind his body, feeling the taut resistance, and released.

A sharp whistle cut through the frigid air as the arrow streaked toward its target. The beast flinched, but it was too late. A sickening thud rang out as the arrow pierced deep into its chest, embedding itself in its heart. The creature's eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and defiance, as if it briefly contemplated resistance. But the strength in its massive form faded quickly. It slumped to the ground, its warmth seeping into the snow as the cold enveloped its body. The thick, matted fur no longer mattered. Darkness claimed the beast.

The young man exhaled deeply, his breath trembling with relief. Success. With this kill, his small family could survive the brutal winter months that loomed ahead. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the weight of the situation, the tension leaving his shoulders as he reached for the small whistle hanging from a leather string around his neck. He blew into it with great force, sending a shrill cry echoing through the mountains. Soon, the crunching of dried leaves and the thud of hurried footsteps announced the arrival of others.

The group of hunters emerged from the trees, their faces weary with frustration. Being summoned by the whistle was a serious matter—its call indicated an emergency and demanded an immediate response, no matter the cost. The redness of their fingertips and the exhaustion etched into their expressions revealed they had been out in the cold for hours, likely chasing their own prey before being interrupted.

Their irritation faded as their eyes fell upon the felled beast before them.

"Gods, Grey, did you kill that Hooded Horn?" exclaimed a burly, bearded man, his voice equal parts disbelief and admiration. "That'll feed us for days!"

"I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't an emergency," Grey replied, standing and dusting snow off his knees. "Figured this would be better than a couple of Tree Rodents. Besides, I couldn't haul this back alone. I'll split it with you if you help dismantle it and carry it to the village."

The bearded man, Keen, stroked his chin thoughtfully before barking orders. "Charge, Bark, head back to the village and grab two sleds and plenty of rope. Move quickly—nightfall's not far off, and we'll need to finish before then."

Two men straightened and sprinted toward the smoke plumes rising in the distance, their footsteps crunching through the snow. Keen turned back to Grey.

"Alright, my men and I will help," he said, his tone carrying the weight of negotiation. "But I want the head, the pelt, and all the bones. Most of the body too."