The last two chapters were prologues.
And now at last the story begins.
Enjoy!!
                                           Ge-O-Fey

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh!

Bleated frantically a goat.

Huff… Huff…

Panted a figure not far away. A light whitish fog arose in front of their face with each breath.

Tagada Tagada Tagada…

Tatatatata…

Sounded their steps on the soft muddy soil.

Fwoooooosh

Rustled dead leaves lifted by their mad race.

It was amidst trees dressed with flaming-like foliage, that the human and the beast were engaging themselves in a highly dynamic tag game. Furrows of fiery colored and twirling leaves formed by their moves were enough to make this scenery the perfect template for a world-renowned canvas.

[Damn! This goat sure is fast.], thought the figure between two breaths. It’d been a while since the chase began. And yet, despite their endeavors, the distance between the two runners remained the same.

The mysterious figure looked restlessly around. They seemed to be looking for something. A branch with hooked 'fingers', took advantage of this slight distraction to slip quietly under their hood.

The plants 'fingers' clung tightly to the figure's clothes. The latter was fiercely pulled back. It forced them to spin around for some time before recovering their balance.

The lowered hood revealed the figure's face.

The latter was characterized by sharp eyes featuring ice-blue irises, as well as a nose reddened by the cold.

A long cross-shaped scar barred their forehead before stopping below their eyes. Above their head were combed snow-like hairs shaven on the sides. A line of black strands passed through before ending in a bun held by a blue ribbon.

A firm jawline added itself to their features, exuding a manly and handsome vibe that many young ladies would find hard to ignore.

While the boy was using the violent break to catch his breath, an itching feeling suddenly assaulted his nostrils. Unable to hold it back in time, he uttered a thunderous sneeze forcing him to bend forward.

Clac!

A teeth-clattering sound echoed. It was on the spot occupied by his head a moment ago.

His blood turned cold, and before processing what just happened, his legs started out.

He leaped forward and then hastily resumed his race.

After a dozen long strides, he risked a peek behind him while he recovered a bit of his composure.

Bloodshot eyes with horizontal pupils entered his field of view.

His heart missed a beat. Panic crept in his chest and he immediately hastened his rhythm.

His nostrils began to itch again. But rather than holding it back, he leaned over his legs and leaped abruptly to the side. While sneezing.

He hasn’t even landed, yet a white shadow flew by him like an arrow, missing him by a few inches.

BAM!

It finished its course against a tree. The tremor caused many leaves to fall into what seemed like a fiery waterfall. Far from minding the commotion, the beast immediately rose to its leg and threw an irritated bleat from its foam-smeared mouth. It then joined with its comrade, horns onward, leaving a small pit on the unfortunate vegetal trunk.

The boy didn’t wait to recover his balance upon landing. He leaned again over his leg and dashed.

After a few awkward strides where he was close to literally eating dust, he finally managed to straighten up.

The boy didn’t turn back this time to assess the situation behind him. He felt like he would regret it, again. He thus leaned on his hearing to keep track of his pursuers’ whereabouts while he sometimes briskly changed direction. He hoped that this would confuse the beasts and help him gain some ground.

Soon, his hearing indicated that the hooves’ rumbling was weakening. It seemed to work. Moreover, in front, trees were becoming scarcer. He was coming out of the forest.

He moved his gloved hand towards his back. A big wooden staff was sheathed there diagonally. It was as long as the boy. Perhaps more. Without trees around him, he would be able to use it to pacify those ambitious goats.

He smiled and gave more strength to his strides to exit sooner and get ready for the showdown.

The boy finally reached the last tree. A chill wind typical for this season whipped his face. His nostrils itched again.

Crac

This was a breaking sound. A branch without a doubt. A branch from the tree under which he was passing.

Without thinking, he turned his back to the sound’s origin.

Bonk!

A sound of shock on a hard surface resounded and the boy crashed onto the humid ground. He rolled over a semi-dozen of feet, before finally stopping. His nostrils were furiously itching.

This time, he didn’t even have the time to move. He suddenly felt a violent impact on his right flank. His breath was cut for several seconds and he rolled over another ten feet. Something was at his side.

While he struggled to rise to his feet, he sensed something hard and cold pressing atop his head and hands. His nostrils were instantly submerged by the smell of wet grass. He attempted to resist but in vain. Those hard things had him pinned to the ground. He managed to take a glimpse of those. Those were hooves.

[There’re more of those goats?]

The boy darted his eyes around. They were indeed two new goats, ignoring the one holding him down. While the first two were pursuing him, they were in fact leading the boy to an ambush prepared by their peers. A truly frightening tactic akin to wolves’ packs.

Two goats scratched the ground with their hooves, exhaling strongly white clouds from their nostrils. They were getting ready to charge from two opposite sides whilst the third was restraining the boy.

How did it manage that with those skinny legs? It was a mystery.

Another thing that was not: judging the might of their earlier charge, with the next attack the boy would certainly have his trunk compressed, his bowels gushing out of his agonizing mouth. A genuine execution.

Tagad- began the duo.

But they barely took a stride before falling in a hole. They tried to quickly rise again, but it was of no avail. Their legs were bound by brownish cords on which were hanging wooden picks.

Hmpf!

At this moment, the boy breathed in a huge puff of icy air and then strongly exhaled. A thick white mist came out of his nostrils and masked his face. The goat, already wary because of the earlier shout, increased its hooves’ pressure on the boy. It waited anxiously for the mist to clear, wondering what was nurturing the pathetic biped.

The mist cleared a moment after, disclosing on the boy’s face an expression that had nothing to do with the earlier ones.

His gaze was calmer, colder, downright icy. The goat felt a shiver run through its body. Then came an itchy feeling. It was a scar barring diagonally on its face, parting from its left eye to the end of its jaw. It received it a few months ago when it fled from its barn and met a wolf.

The boy’s gaze was identical to the one that made the predator before pouncing on it and taking its eye. It felt at this moment how truly dangerous was the boy.

But it was too late.

Because this was just a diversion.

From his side, the scarred boy had already shoved his toes in the soft soil seeking forgotten pebbles.

The next moment, with a trained motion, he lifted his legs imitating a catapult.

Small muddy pebbles flew toward the goat’s head confused by the sudden move.

The first missed it by an inch.

The second, however, hit the goat’s eye...

Beeeeeeh!!! It bleated in pain and anger.

The young hunter took advantage of his opponent’s shock to disengage by rolling to the side. He then promptly straightened up, his mitten-gloved hand already on his stick.

The one-eyed goat, now almost blind, pointed his remaining bloody eye at the biped who awoke its trauma.

Bam!

With a straight hoof strike, it shot toward the boy at an astounding speed. In barely a second, it had already gone through the ten of feet separating them and appeared under the boy’s nose.

Its horn, sharpened for this kind of event, already touched his coat.

BONK!

But this will be all it will be able to manage.

In hardly a blink the hunter, with a light flexure of his legs, had leaped back.

At the same time, his arm –like a stretched then released rubber band– had swung down his stick on his attacker’s skull.

The impact raised a shockwave that blew a small mist and lifted droplets that wetted the grasses and ground.

“First fang: Heavenly bonk.”mumbled the boy.

Beeeeeh!! Bleated in horror the two powerless goats as their leader collapsed.

The boy quickly took a look at his weapon. It was as thick as three joined fingers. Few were the people who could stand up after receiving a hit from this club. There was also a bandaged part allowing the boy to wield his weapon without fearing any injuries. What caught his gaze, however, were the marks slitting the stick. They were horn marks.

Having finished his inspection, the boy replaced his weapon upside down at his back. There was a leather belt attached to his chest and specially made for this purpose. He then unsheathed a knife from a case at his belt. The sharp blade flashed cold glints as the boy spun it around his finger. He came closer to his victim with a livid face, ready to strike the finishing blow.

“Argh”

But it didn't seem like the 'victim' had said its last words. His legs were raised towards the sky, while near its stomach was brandished an appendix sprinkling copiously the boy with a bronze-colored liquid. The hunter reacted instinctively by rubbing his face with his clothes.

The beast comrades did not remain idle either. Their teeth as if tailored for this kind of event were already gnawing at their ties. It only took them a few seconds to free themselves.

When the boy finally raised his face, he could only look at the goats galloping madly away.

He stared at them for a long time. What kind of goats are these? He swept aside this question with a sigh. Finding an answer will not change anything. He will have to start over. Again.

With unhurried steps, he then proceeded to his traps. The vile goats didn't go easy on them. The holes were even better plowed than fields a few weeks before the great festival. Meanwhile, the sturdy muddy cords were lying pitifully on the ground with cuts as clear as those of an ax. It didn't seem like they would be of any more use.

[Even traps are useless. Looks like I can only rely on myself to catch those goats.]

With these thoughts, the boy's mind quickly sank into a sea of deep reflection. With a blank gaze, he reviewed internally the still vivid battle, seeking loopholes in his opponents' schemes and skills.

In the meantime, his hand too was getting busy. As if driven by a will on its own, it collected the trap's remnants and carefully put them in the satchel tied to his belt.

He checked mechanically that he didn't lose anything during his earlier fall, before exiting his thoughts' stream.

He was ready to get back in his hunt and triumph over his preys.

Grmmmmmlllblllll....

Almost ready.

The boy put his hand on his stomach who replied with a new grumble. With a stomach as uncooperative as this, getting near those goats might be really arduous.

Unfortunately for them, the young hunter seemed well-prepared. With a keen motion, he took a wooden gourd from his satchel. He removed the lid and emptied the content. A cold metallic taste flooded his mouth while a colorless liquid eased his gastric commotion. Using water to relieve hunger and avoid any sound-related surprises during a hunt. This was a trick taught to him by his master during his first hunt.

Remembering this caused a little pinch in the boy's heart.

He then raised his eyes and began looking at the clouds. He was hoping to regain full control over his emotions. This too was taught to him by his master. He always told the boy that during a hunt any distraction widened the distance between a hunter and his prey.

Well, even if it wasn't exactly what happened today, he got the point.

Above the boy, clouds rocked by the gentle cold breeze were swaggering lazily in the pale morning sky. Their motions were enough to help the boy regain his calmness. For a brief moment.

His gaze by going along the faraway fluffy shapes reached the day star. The latter didn't seem as bright and comforting as mentioned in legends told by elders. There was something growing out if It. A black mushroom, with a hat dozens of times bigger than the sun as well as roots darker than the night and slowly covering the Sun’s surface.

It wasn’t all. From the Mushroom’s hat came cracks fracturing the sky itself, as if the hat was a huge hole. Those cracks oozed some kind of dark fluid akin to bleeding wounds.

“Damned mushroom.” the boy cursed.

He lowered his gaze and stared toward the horizon. A cold glint appeared in his eyes. He was ready to resume his hunt.

“Good. Now, let’s show those over-spiked goats which side is the hunt-”

However, he could not finish his sentence. There was a rumbling sound not far away. The boy closed his eyes to focus on his hearing and pick up the direction from which the noise was coming from.

He quickly opened his eyes wide. The noise was coming from where the goats had fled earlier! And it was coming toward him!

The boy hastily turned and squinted his eyes. There, in the distance, he could make out a white and black tide of horned angry beasts uprooting trees –too wide from the boy to hug– out of their way. And just behind was a much bigger animal ridden by a figure wearing a skull mask. A goat’s skull.

“Wha- what is that? And who is this guuuyyyyyy?!” screamed the biy as he quickly turned tail and ran for his life.