01 Hunting Party: Chapter 2

Chapter Two – Making Amends

None of them had much success for the rest of the day, apart from a rabbit that Greg shot. Sadly, when he approached it, he realized that it wasn't dead and saw in horror the blood seeping from one of its back legs. He called out to the others for help, unable to move and rescue the poor creature from its agony because the sight brought only revulsion to his mind. Vic moved decisively towards Greg and his quarry and picked up the dying animal by its back legs. Mal watched, repulsed, as the animal's eyes met his own momentarily and seemed to transmit its mortal fear to him. Before Mal could react, Vic swung the tiny, frail body back and then swiftly forward, bashing its head against a tree and rendering it lifeless.

"It was the kindest thing to do," offered Vic.
"The quickest way to kill it after Greg's poor excuse of a shot. You need more practice, pal. At least that can be a starter before our hog. And you two still have to take your first shots. This forest is teeming with life. Surely you can find something to take a shot at!"

And he laughed and shook his head from side to side in mocking dismay. "Call yourself hunters!" and he walked away slowly from them, with the rabbit already thrown in his backpack, silent evidence of his cold-blooded kill. Greg followed sullenly behind after he lost the stomach for eating meat himself after witnessing the ferocity of Vic's execution.

Mal and Richard looked at each other.

"What are we doing here, Rich? This is no way for grown men to behave. I feel sick to the stomach after watching that."

Richard said nothing, and Mal didn't know what he was thinking. Richard turned away from him and followed the other two rifle under his arm, as they made their way to collect the hog for roasting that night for dinner. Finally, Mal tagged along suddenly aware of the feeling that he was being watched, which sent a cold shiver down his spine and made his teeth chatter involuntarily. His eyes darted around him, trying to discern anyone that might be lurking in the dense bushes, which almost surrounded him on all sides.

Jules, Mal's long-term girlfriend, had been a vegan for the past two and a half years and was always banging on to Mal about how he should try it. Jules professed that she was much healthier, didn't have to kill anything to enjoy her food. Humans didn't need meat to survive. Stubborn as always, Mal resisted Jules' attempts to dissuade him from meat and became more loquaciously adamant that he could never forego the taste of a good burger or steak. After being part of the hunt today, however, he wasn't so sure and thought that perhaps some of Jules' sermons had rubbed off on him.

As they made their way back to where they had left the dead hog, Mal wondered if he could feign illness to avoid going hunting again. Ideally, he would have liked to have got in the truck and driven as fast and far away as he could, but he knew it was an absurd idea to imagine that he could leave the others or that they would agree to go with him. Vic had spent too long arranging it and seemed to be having fun. Perhaps when he caught up with the rest of them, he could pretend to trip up over something and hurt his back or pull a tendon in his leg; anything that would render him incapable of walking too much was what was needed. Yes, that was going to be the best bet. If he said he had the flu, Vic would be sure to tell him not to be such a wuss and that a cold was no reason not to join in the fun.

He was debating which injury to fake when he heard one of his friends shout out in alarm. He couldn't make out who it was or where it was coming from immediately, but he was drawn towards the commotion like he was being pulled in by a magnet. He dreaded seeing what he was about to find. What if the hog had not been dead but had lain there suffering since Vic had shot it? What if the wild boar had suddenly found the strength to spring to life and savage Vic when he approached it? Mal had heard how feral hogs could savage be if they were threatened and if it was severely wounded and in enough pain, then it could very quickly attack anything or anyone it perceived a new threat to its position.

Mal hastened his pace. The shouts and screams persisted and sounded horrific, and he ran towards them. Suddenly, there was silence. And then, without warning, his eyes fell upon Vic, who was almost unmistakable as a human form. Vic's face had been torn away, and his throat was raggedly chewed open as was his stomach, its contents spilling out onto the dry earth below him. Mal's heart seemed to stop beating, and his breath was caught in his lungs, unable to be inhaled or exhaled. There was no doubt that Vic was dead, and then out of the corner of Mal's eye, he detected movement and looked towards it, expecting to see either Richard or Greg moving towards him.

Instead, what greeted him was a sight he couldn't comprehend. It vaguely resembled a man, but its torso seemed to be made from tree bark, and its face was crudely and grotesquely carved. Mal felt the urge to flee but couldn't muster the impetus to move and stood transplanted to the spot, unwillingly staring back at the seven-foot troll which stared dispassionately back at him. There was no expression the creature seemed evidently capable of displaying with its rigid features. Still, Mal felt no malice or threat emanating from the strange beast, which was surprising considering the damage it had just obviously inflicted upon Vic.

After a while that Mal would never be able to measure or recount successfully, the troll turned and walked peacefully and slowly away. Wordlessly, it had somehow managed to impart a feeling of the injustice it felt that the four hunters had brought with them to its habitat. Mal had the impression that the troll was the guardian of this forest, which was here for people to take pleasure from, not to destroy for mindless vandalism, which they labeled sport. It had made him feel ashamed.

As the troll left, he turned his eyes back to the lifeless form of his friend, Vic, and a thousand thoughts rushed through his head. Panic-stricken, he wondered what he should do. The four men had already discovered that their cellphones were rendered useless with poor reception out here in the woods. They would not easily be able to summon help from emergency services. Just as he was considering possible options, Richard appeared, followed shortly afterward by Greg.

"What…. what on earth… has happened here?" Richard stuttered. Greg echoed his shock but was speechless and just expended a long, low moan, which seemed to express the sheer terror of the sight before them.

"Was it the hog?" asked Richard. "Was that not dead either?"

Mal looked around and realized that they were indeed in the same spot as they had left the supposedly dead hog. But now, it was nowhere to be seen. His thoughts crashed into each other as they fought for supremacy, and he suddenly decided that he could never tell them that he had just seen a seven-foot troll who was protecting the woods. His friends would think he had gone crazy and that perhaps it had been Mal himself who had savaged their friend.

"I didn't see anything. It must have been," Mal agreed in explanation. "I've heard that hogs can be dangerous. This one seems to have been and probably even more so because it was wounded. What were we thinking, guys?" Mal felt sadder than he could remember feeling and regretted not standing up for his own beliefs and refusing to hunt wild animals. It was not hunting for sport, it was barbarism.

"I guess we have to get out of here and get help. Let's find somewhere that our phones are going to work."

Richard moved toward the corpse.

"Shouldn't we make sure the body safe? What if wild animals come for him?"

"No, we should leave him where he is. We shouldn't move him. The police will need to see him as he is. And it can't get any worse than dead for Vic now, can it?" The other two looked at him and then followed him out of the woods and back to the cabin. After they had gathered their things, they climbed into the truck, Mal assuming the driver's seat after Vic being cut from the team.

After that trip, none of the remaining three had the stomach for hunting ever again, and Jules was delighted that Mal had changed his mind about becoming vegan. He never spoke about what he had seen in the woods that day and doubted that anyone would ever believe him had he done so. But that day, he had felt at one with nature, and grateful to be part of it. The troll had made him realize that man does not have a right to take the life of other living beings or destroy nature for his own gain or pleasure.

Vic was not the last one to lose his life in those woods. Two more men died in the next ten years, both attacked by wild hogs the papers said. As word spread, hunters became loath to go into those woods and told whoever would listen that whatever lurked there was inhumanly and uncontrollably lethal. It could not be destroyed by guns. As the fable grew, only the bravest dared to enter the woods to hunt.

But Mal realized that the troll had achieved what it had set out to do. It had managed to protect its habitat and the habitat of its fellow creatures. And in ten years, only three men had to die to achieve it.