Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Good Hunting

A young boy, no older than ten, sat swaddled in furs as his mother cooked. Candles were in short supply this winter, so her warm-yellow halo was the only illumination in their kitchen. The child reached up to the halo gleefully, attempting to grasp the light in his little hands. His mother tutted and set him back in his chair with one hand, continuing to stir the pot with the other.

“Now, dear, it’s rude to do something like that.”

The boy pouted, cocking his head and continuing to stare, mesmerised by the glow. He rarely got to see his mother’s magic; she never used it outside the house, though it would take many more years before he’d understand why. The woman turned back to look at him, and her expression softened while her white hair bled to a satisfied gold. She pinched his cheeks,

“I’ll forgive you this time, you naughty little boy.”

He giggled, reaching up to grasp her hair as she leaned in. He loved it when it changed colour. The sight of it never ceased to entertain him.

“When can I do that, mama?” The boy asked, reaching out towards the glowing ring behind his mother’s head again, eyes wide and hopeful. She chewed her lip, hair shifting back to white as she thought about what to say next.

“That’s… I’m sorry, dear, but you won’t be able to.” She ruffled his hair, her smile a little bit sad, “It’s a trait that only the women in our family have, and I and your father were blessed with a beautiful baby boy.”

The child was perplexed by this, for the distinction between genders had not sunk in quite yet. He furrowed his brow most adorably, and his mother could not resist; She lifted him from his chair, holding him high as he chortled with delight, confusion forgot as his attention flitted to the next interesting thing.

 

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Adam Lane leaned against a tree, breath misting the air as he bit into an apple and waited silently. Morning snow crunched underfoot as he bounced his leg, searching the trees for signs of life and generally… glowering. He was on the outskirts of the mining town he called home, the border between civilisation and the conservation his family was tasked with overseeing.

Adam was deep in thought, so much so that he didn’t notice another figure sneaking up behind him, careful to step in Adam’s footprints so as not to make a sound…

“Boo-” 

Adam leapt to his feet with a manly squeak thank-you-very-much, squeezing his hands together so hard the apple popped into the air, only to be caught by his assailant.

“Matt, you absolute scoundrel,” Adam hissed, resisting the urge to lift the scrawny boy by his collar. Matt laughed, tossing back the apple and leaning against the tree next to him.

“I’m sorry, Adam, I couldn’t resist. You should’ve seen it; you were most definitely brooding. You! Brooding! I knew it’d take a shock to get you out of it. As the older one of us two, I have to take responsibility.”

Adam huffed, catching the apple in one hand and continuing to tear away small chunks with his teeth instead of replying. While it was true that Matt was technically the older of them both, it was only by three days. They were both eighteen at this point, and their parents had been introduced to each other through the local midwife.

Matt looked out at the trees, thawing from their winter slumber in the wake of a very slow spring.

“So… See any creatures yet? A herd of grumpkins? Perhaps a sniffle beast?”

Adam snorted, taking a large bite of the apple, “The only creature I’ve seen is a gobshite right next to me. Stands at about my shoulder in height, has light brown hair, an insufferable grin… You might have caught a glimpse.”

Matt waggled his finger, “Don’t forget irresistibly handsome; it’s the gobshite’s most important trait. How else is he to attract the attention of tall, pretty boys who think far too much?”

That got a raucous laugh out of the both of them, causing Adam to drop his apple again. Matt dove to catch it and, on the way up, snuck a kiss onto the other boy’s cheek. Adam ripened to a bright red from neck to forehead and tossed the half-eaten core at Matt’s stupid face.

“You bastard!” Adam managed to strangle out, face still glowing, “How am I supposed to focus on disarming traps if you do something like that right before we leave? If I lose a hand, it’s on you.”

Matt laughed as he easily ducked under the apple, jumping back to avoid any follow-up blows.

“Consider it a good luck charm, my sweet, brooding dumbass. I can’t believe you still turn pink from a little kiss~” 

Adam looked away, running his hands through his shaggy dark-brown hair. It was reaching his eyebrows and the back of his neck now.

“I never should’ve allowed you to come,” Adam finally managed to say, “You’re far too much of a distraction.” That caused them both to giggle, and Adam led Matt deeper into the forest.

“So,” Matt asked after a while, “What exactly are we searching for?”

“’We’ is a strong word, Matt; you wouldn’t be able to find your way around here even if you had a map.”

Matt snorted, creating a jet of hot air visible in the morning light.

“It’s because of that height advantage of yours,” He jumped to ruffle Adam’s hair, much to his protest, “Look at you! You stand nearly a head taller than me. It’s unfair, is what it is.”

Adam was indeed far taller than Matt and perhaps most of the men in town. He’d inherited it from his father, and he didn’t like how imposing it made him, though he’d never admit it out loud.

“Hrmph. The point still stands. As for what ‘we’re’ looking for–”

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Adam paused, placing his hand on Matt’s chest to stop him from walking forwards. He then proceeded to kneel, inspecting the floor.

“Tracks,” Adam said softly, “We’re searching for tracks. The animals are waking up with the warmer weather, and the poachers love to leave little presents behind on their pre-existing trails.”

Matt squinted, and he could barely see light pawprints in the snow. It looked like it belonged to some big cat. He sniffed, adjusting his scarf.

“Can’t believe you saw that. Bloody hell, I might need spectacles.”

Adam laughed, hiding it behind his hand, “I grew up here, dumbass. You don’t need spectacles, just experience. C’mon, poachers like to leave them further back along the trails.”

They trekked their way further back along the track, Adam going on autopilot while Matt rubbed his hands together for warmth. Suddenly, Adam pulled Matt back by the collar with a hiss of alarm, stopping him in his tracks.

There, nestled carefully in the snow right in Matt’s path, was a metal animal trap.

“And that is why we discourage people from hiking along these trails,” Adam stated smugly, leaning down and slipping his pack off his back. He removed his gloves, holding them in his teeth as he pointed his hands towards the hidden trap. With a look of concentration, heat began to emanate from Adam’s palms and melt the snow.

Matt’s eyes went wide, and he clapped with genuine admiration as Adam went an embarrassed pink.

“It’s really nothing, Matt,” Adam mumbled around the woollen gloves, “You should see what Da can do – He’s got an animal familiar and everything.”

Matt placed his hands in the stream of warmth, sighing as he regained feeling in his fingers.

“Magic is magic, Adam! Nobody who can so much as use a cantrip wants to stay this far from civilisation,” Matt paused, “‘Cept for your Da, of course, but he’s got the animals to look after.”

Adam nodded, letting up with the heat and beginning to search for a stick.

“You could learn magic, Matt. There’re schools for it.”

Matt waggled his finger with a smile, “Nah, I’ve got it all worked out, y’see – If I were to learn magic, I would be so bloody good at it that it would shame every other student into wanting to quit. Then where would we be? It’s a good thing I’m willing to hold myself back. A blessing, I tell you.”

That got a laugh out of Adam, “Ah, of course, because whenever I think of a model student, the first thing that pops into my mind is Mathias Brown. I’m sure our teachers would get a kick out of that one.”

Adam found a suitable branch, lifted it and shook the snow off before bringing it back to the now-revealed trap.

“Stand back,” He announced before tossing the stick like a javelin at the pressure plate in the trap’s centre from a small distance away. The metal jaws clamped down with enough force to break bone, cleaving the branch cleanly in two and leaping up high enough to reach Matt’s head before clattering to the floor.

Adam moved in, inspecting the metal and grumbling with distaste.

“This is city work,” He spat, “Too fancy to be local. Nobody from here would stamp their signature on something like this, but take a look,” Matt leaned in as Adam pointed out a distinct brand seared into the bottom of the metal. It lacked words, but the iconography was unique and was most likely plastered on a metalworker’s front doors in one of the larger cities.

Matt rubbed his chin thoughtfully, picking up the now defunct trap.

“So… What does it mean if it’s from the cities?”

Adam took the trap from Matt, stuffing it into his pack and slinging it back onto his shoulder.

“It means that experienced poachers are getting brave again… or stupid. If they don’t lodge in the town, they can’t be punished for disobeying the lord’s rules about this land not being for hunting. It means they have to camp out, but a mastodon’s pelt will go for at least three hundred gold pieces. That’s a powerful motivator.”

He scowled, brushing the snow off his knees.

“Usually, my parents would scare them off with displays of magic – that keeps them away for a few years, but these must be fresh or desperate. We’ve already lost so many animals; I don’t know what we’d do if another few species disappeared from the forest…”

Matt placed a hand on his shoulder, signature shit-eating grin on his face.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? How much longer do we have before we need to retreat back to town?

Adam glanced upwards at the sun, mentally calculating the time.

“About an hour and a half until the snow thaws and the animals start coming out again. Let’s try and get as many of these as we can.”

The two boys began to crunch their way further into the forest, walking mostly in silence as they hunted for tracks and traps.