Lindsay
Schopfer

By Lindsay Schopfer

The chill of the morning air seeped through the window’s thin glass. Keltin looked down at the activity going on below him in the pale light. Nearly all of the hunters had gathered together in the farmyard, their smoking breath mingling together in small, pale clouds as they spoke quietly with each other. Keltin wondered whether they had been assembled for the occasion or if they had come out of their own morbid curiosity. Sergeant Bracksten stood with the campaign’s remaining professional soldiers, speaking quietly just outside the farmhouse, each of them armed with Krendarian army rifles affixed with bayonets. Captain Tallow and his tamarrin hounds also seemed to be ready for trouble, the noble animals looking like wound springs as they sat beside their masters.

At last, Bracksten and his men ceased their discussion and began moving briskly as a group to the pigpen, but at that moment the crack of drivers’ whips could be heard. The Heteracks emerged from around the pigpen in a rumbling caravan, the quiet procession led by the two sleevak wagons, though the second wagon’s cages all stood empty and silent. The remaining sleevaks thrashed and foamed at the sight of the tamarrin hounds, but the well-trained animals only stared back at them coolly.

The caravan moved out into the courtyard, pausing for a moment as the Heteracks in the second wagon were forced to jump to the ground and tie down an empty cage that had fallen to the earth. Keltin used the brief pause to study the caravan and was surprised to see some human hunters among the Heteracks. It seemed that the sleevak wranglers weren’t the only ones dissatisfied with the campaign.

As the Heteracks in the second wagon finished their repairs, Captain Rok stood up in his seat. He turned slowly, looking out at the gathered hunters. Keltin wondered if he might make some sort of speech or declaration, but the sleevak wrangler only glared silently at the group before turning to look at the farmhouse. Rok turned his gaze to the bedroom window and for a moment Keltin looked into his dark, brooding eyes. Keltin felt his blood go hot looking into those hateful eyes, but kept his face set and hard, watching the Heterack like he would any other dangerous animal.

Finally, Rok turned again and sat, whipping his mules to trundle on and out of the farmyard to the road beyond. Keltin watched until the last wagon had disappeared before turning to the others gathered in the upstairs bedroom.

“Is it over then?” asked Bor’ve’tai.

Keltin nodded. “They’ve gone. We should be able to leave soon.”

It was a few minutes more before Sergeant Bracksten opened their door and told them that they could come out again.

“The Baron wants to see you at noon, Captain Moore,” the sergeant added.