The Hunt

Before I start, the _______ titles are so easy. Hmmm, its about a hunt, but not just any hunt. It's The Hunt. Replace the word 'hunt' with verb or noun of choice. Viola!

Harrok waited, still and silent in the soft snow. His white bear pelt kept his body above freezing, and hid him in the white expanses. Breathing the cold air was like sucking ice into his lungs, draining his last reserves of warmth from the inside. Harrok continued to wait, motionless. The sun, a point of brightness, refracted and reflected from the white cloudy sky, to the white ground below; Slowly descending, it glared from everything, making the world unbearably white. All Harrok could see is formless white; he had to resist the urge to check he could still see himself. Harrok's eyes had adjusted to the brightness, he could see everything - but there was only white to be seen.

Suddenly there was colour. The horizon splashed into view as red sunset bloomed. The world took on a pink tint, as the red light refused to stay on the horizon, but coloured everything there was to see. And still Harrok waited.

Further movement, and a massive head burst from the snow. A lone inky black head marred the delicate white pink wilderness. Soon massive furry black shoulders followed, and a massive great bear soon stood on the snow, emerged from its underground den. At least 9ft high, it was large, even for its own kind. It was the end of autumn, and the great bear's massive dark form was heavy with the fat built up for hibernation. Tonight would be its last hunt before it retired and slept for the winter. 'Mine too' thought Harrok 'It will be the very last hunt for one of us, great bear'. Shaking the snow from its furry hide, the bear lumbered toward Harrok's hiding spot in the snow, just as Harrok new it would. Harrock had been studdying this bear for months, learning its habbits and its mannerisms.

The bear loomed larger and larger in Harrok's vision, growing and expanding until it took up the whole horizon. It was mere feet from Harrok, and still Harrok waited. Harrok prayed to his gods that his camouflage was good enough, that the layer of snow completely covered him, that his eyes weren't too visible through the white rabbit hide mask under the snow, that he had hidden in the right spot, that the bear wouldn't amble over him unnoticing of Harrok's demise, that he would see his family again. That he wouldn't be joining his father and fore-fathers in the halls of the dead tonight. He prayed fervently, all the while motionless, knowing that the slightest movement would give his position away to the mighty bear, and cause him to be crushed beneath one of its mighty clawed paws. The monstrous black bear wouldn't even consider him a threat, but would crush him nonchalantly under his great paw, like a human would crush a bug. Great bears hunted the 'smaller' bears of the northern ranges, the polar bears and mammoths, the sabertooths and the rhinoxen. They were the top of the food tree, and only feared the snow trolls, who would hunt them for food in the long winter months.

Harrok's luck held. The bear stopped, and yawned, its hot breath creating a puff of steam in the frigid air.

Harrock continued to wait.

Suddenly the snow exploded. Harrok burst from his hiding spot. He pulled his knife from its sheath, and like lightning slammed it up into the bottom of the great bear's gigantic furry head. The iron knife slipped behind the jawbone and thrust into the bears brain before the mighty predator could react. The bear instantly collapsed as Harrok darted away, and watched the red blood bleed from the wound, a crimson stain spreading on the white snow, crimson stain contrasting against the pureness.

Stretching stiff bones Harrok grabbed his horn, and brought it to his lips. The horn sung out, its call echoing over the plains. Soon Harrok's family would be here, with fire to cook the meat, and a sled to help shift the carcass. As it was, Harrok could only wait for them to arrive - he couldn't even shift the carcass of the gargantuan beast alone. He looked out as the last traces of sunset disappeared from the horizon. Now all he had to do was wait. . .

For those who are interested, I have written a sequel. Red Hunt.