Hunters

Ow. I had expected to be sore, but not this sore. I might have had an inch or two of my body that wasn’t bruised, but you’d be hard pressed to find it and it was probably somewhere impolite.

On the up side, I was alive, which I guess was an improvement over the alternative. Having run out of goldleaf tea, the idea wasn’t that convincing. Maybe Margot had some to spare.

Even with a pack of six of them, it had been a near thing taking down that Behemoth the night before. They had thought they had it all planned out. They were going to show the adults what a “fresh pack of young upstarts” could really do.

I had started doubting a bit when I saw how big a Behemoth actually was.

It was too late by then, though. The pack was committed and the snares had been set. We had been lucky to win with no fatalities. There were some broken bones, to be sure, and Henris would probably be walking with a limp for quite some time.

I looked over at the still-bleeding head of the Behemoth at the edge of the campsite.

Worth it.

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