Soul Caller 1 - Chapter 31 (Patreon)

The rest of the night and part of the next day, he spent near the wall, paying careful attention to see if any of the centipedes dug their way through. When none appeared, he hoped that he was safe and returned to his regular routine. The days passed swiftly, filled with meditation, crafting, exercise, and more meditation. And it wasn't long until another month had passed. Once again, his food was starting to run low, and so Merrick decided it was time to go hunting.

He had been outside a number of times in the past few weeks gathering wood, and knew that most of the game had moved further south down the canyon. This hunt would be longer, and so he packed himself a bag, bringing a tent and a good amount of jerky, along with two canteens of the glowing water from the river. His hope was that he wouldn't be outside for more than a few days at most, but just in case, he took his most essential things with him. It was morning when he left his cave, and the thick clouds of the early winter storms had passed, leaving the sky bright blue in the morning sun. The glare on the snow was fierce, and so Merrick fashioned himself a mask with slits for his eyes to guard against the reflected light.

Three months had passed since he had first arrived at the canyon, and already, he could feel the bitter chill receding, and a slight warmth filling the air. There was still another month or so until spring, and another two months until the mountain passes had melted, but Merrick was feeling great. His body seemed stronger than even before he had entered the valley, and while some of that could be attributed to leveling up, he had a strong suspicion that it mainly had to do with his deepened connection to the Song of the World and the mana-infused water he had been drinking from the underground river.

Thanks to his snowshoes, crossing the wide expanses of open snow took far less energy, allowing him to make good progress. He didn't want to rush, and so kept himself at a fairly slow pace as he headed further into the canyon, occasionally stopping to check his map. He could see where the stream cut through the center of the canyon, and he had his eye on a particular hill about ten miles from the manastone mine. His goal was to make the trek on the first day, setting up a camp, and building a snow fort from which he could hunt.

The hill had a great view of the surrounding area, and it was one of the few places where the water from the river pooled, making it easier for animals to drink from. His hope was that from this position he would be able to hunt a few deer, getting all of the game that he needed for the rest of his time in the canyon. The air was crisp and cold, but lacked the biting chill and fierce driving wind that it had earlier in the winter, a clear sign that the corner had been turned and that spring was on the way. Hearing the sounds of birds in the distance, Merrick could feel the song of the world swelling around him. It filled his chest and made him want to sing along. And so he did, humming a faint, indistinct tune that seemed to be a perfect match to the sound of the birds.

At midday, he stopped to rest, taking a drink of water from his canteen and eating a few pieces of jerky before getting back underway. The sun was just starting to set when he arrived at the hill he had scoped out previously, and taking off his snowshoes, he climbed up it. At the top he paused to inspect the landscape, taking in the curve of the river down below the hill and the wide expanse of snow covered fields that stretched out on the other three sides. Deciding that he liked the spot, he put his pack down and using his snowshoes as shovels, he dug down into the snow on the top of the hill, packing it tight around him. Once he had a few low walls surrounding the top of the hill, he set up his tent, pitching it into a snowbank, and packing the snow up against its sides to form an igloo of sorts.

He decided against a fire, instead sitting to meditate. Ever since his connection to the Song of the World had increased, he had discovered it was easy to use it to keep himself warm. All through the night, he sat, pulling the mana from the song into his chest and using it to feed the fire inside of him. He had to be careful that he didn't allow himself to get too hot, as he didn't want to form a layer of sweat, so he remained slightly chilly, and though he was cold, he had no trouble passing time until morning.

At just after midnight, he awoke and stretched. Taking a drink of water, he chewed on some of the jerky he had brought, getting ready to begin the day’s hunt. The moon was bright overhead, and as he ate, he admired the gleaming stars. There was a stillness to the air, but faintly, he could hear the sound of crunching snow, and he knew that he had picked a good spot. There was an animal walking down to the river below.

Lifting his rifle, he peeked his head over the side of the mounded snow and gazed down at the small pool along the river. There he saw a majestic stag at the water's edge, drinking small sips of the freezing cold water and then lifting its head to look around. A heavy rack of antlers sat on its head, their sharp points gleaming in the moonlight.

It was a magnificent creature, and after a moment of hesitation, Merrick lowered his rifle. He had a perfect shot, and the stag could feed him for months. Yet there was something about the majestic creature that gave Merrick pause. The rifle he held was a terrifying weapon, and yet Merrick felt that if he was going to hunt such a creature, it simply wasn't the right tool.

Shaking his head as he watched the stag turn and stride away, Merrick could only sigh. It felt like a silly bit of sentimentality, but something in him thought that the contest wasn't fair. For a few minutes, he sat against the wall of snow, pondering what he had just experienced. It would have been one thing, he concluded, if he was starving. After all, if it was a matter of survival, all bets were off. But that wasn't the case. He still had meat enough to last him a few weeks and so he felt like it wouldn’t be right to kill the stag just because he could.

He was curious whether this same feeling would apply to other animals, and a few hours later, when he saw an old doe ambling towards the river, he realized that it did not. Any compunction he had possessed when faced with the magnificent stag earlier was now gone. This deer was large and old, faint scarring on her legs and back haunches, a testament to its many years of struggle. This was an animal entering the twilight years of its life.

Even if he was not the one to bring the old doe down, soon she would fall to one predator or another. Lifting his rifle, Merrick aimed down the barrel, steadying the end of the rifle against the parapet of snow as he trained it on the old doe. Taking a moment to assess everything around him, Merrick let his thumb fall, connecting with the manastone and firing off a shot. The hiss and crack announced the deer's end as the beam of mana tore through her head, extinguishing her life instantly. Yet even as the sound of the rifle shot faded, a faint howl in the distance rose and Merrick's breath caught in his chest.

It was the sound of wolves, and not just any wolves. The same wolf pack he had heard many months ago. He had no idea how it was he knew that, but it was with certainty that he realized the wolf pack that had hunted him and the prospectors during their trek through the mountains had returned. Eventually Merrick's mind went to the large footprint that he had seen a few months earlier outside of the cave. During the later part of winter, wolves became even more dangerous than before. Lean and hungry, they became more and more reckless as every bite of food staved off starvation for a little while longer. Prey was starting to get harder to find, and Merrick had just dropped a deer almost right in front of them.

His mind ran through calculations as another howl sounded closer, and Merrick knew he was in trouble. His first instinct was to head back to the cave, but it was too far of a trip to attempt without knowing exactly where the wolves were. There was no way he would make it across ten miles of open ground without being surrounded, which meant that standing and fighting was his best bet. But he was up on a hill which could be approached from all four sides, meaning that he would still get surrounded if he stayed here. Knowing he couldn't let the wolves get the drop on him, Merrick concentrated, trying to figure out what direction the wolves would be coming from.

The river lay on one side of the hill, blocking the route to the east, and from the sound of it, the wolf howl had come from back in the direction he had just traveled. Leaving the corpse of the deer to lie, Merrick moved to the other side of the snow fort he had built, and carved a small depression in the wall, peering out through it as he tried to spot any signs of movement. His best bet was to ambush the wolves before they knew he was there, hoping to kill as many of them as possible before they could close in on his position.

Hearing more howls breaking out, Merrick estimated that the wolves were around a mile away, and soon he could see them, gray and brown blobs moving against the white snow. They were tough to see in the moonlight, but his eyes were sharp, and could pick out the blur of movement against the white backdrop. He was tempted to try to engage them when they came within a quarter of a mile, but he knew that a shot at that distance would be wildly inaccurate. Better to wait until they came to the bottom of the hill.

The smell of the deer's blood was bright on the wind, and it was blowing straight towards the wolves who were moving swiftly, their tongues lolling as they trotted along. Merrick just hoped that the smell of the fallen deer masked his smell. Though he could have engaged the wolves as they broke from the trees down at the bottom of the hill and began moving around, Merrick decided not to. Instead he would wait until they gathered around the deer below, hoping to pick them off from there.

Among them was a massive wolf with thick white and gray fur, whose teeth appeared to be a good six inches long. Thick fur bristled in spikes from its back, and its rumbling growl could be heard clearly at the top of the hill. Confident that it was the biggest and baddest creature around, it led the way around the hill in an easy trot, its head swinging back and forth as it sniffed the air. When it saw the corpse of the deer, it stopped for a moment, sniffing again as if expecting a trap. The other wolves were less patient and began to run forward, but it let out a threatening growl that caused them to cower in their tracks.

Studying the wolf, Merrick could feel his heart pounding in his chest. There was something different about it, something about the gleam in its eye that caused worry to sprout in his heart. It seemed to have a sort of feral intelligence as it slowly circled the deer, its nose trying to sniff out what was wrong. Watching it from on top of the hill, Merrick tracked its movement with the barrel of his rifle, waiting for the opportunity to take a shot.

He had to wait 30 seconds between each shot, which meant if he missed, he would be hard pressed to keep the rest of the wolves off of the hill. His hope was to kill at least one or two wolves before they realized where he was, but as he saw the alpha wolf sniffing at the wound in the deer's head, he got the impression that his plans might not work out. A second later, he was proven right as the massive wolf suddenly lifted its head, looking straight at him.

Shocked, Merrick's thumb fell to the manastone, and a blast of searing light tore through the air. At almost the same moment the alpha wolf, warned by some sixth sense, jumped to the side, letting out a howl as the beam drew a line across its hind leg, searing it badly. A wolf behind it took the blast full in the chest and was killed instantly as the rest of the wolves howled and scattered. The large alpha wolf crouched and growled up at Merric, whose heart had jumped into his throat when the wolf looked at him. A few seconds ticked by as Merrick waited for his rifle to recharge, but the alpha wolf, as if sensing an opportunity, let out a loud howl and began to struggle up the side of the hill. The wound to its back legs had hampered its mobility, but a few of the other wolves didn't have that same handicap. With growls, they leapt forward, racing up the hill towards Merrick.

Watching them come, he realized that the first would get to him only a few seconds after his weapon had finished charging. Although gritting his teeth, he kept ahold of his rifle, trusting in the slope to slow them down. Tense seconds ticked by until he felt the familiar surge of energy and without hesitation fired his next shot. It tore through one of the wolves that was only ten feet away, sending it spinning from the top of the hill. The others, terrified, curved away, two of them running down the hill and one of them trying to circle around. Merric, knowing he couldn't let the wolf get to his back, glanced at the massive wolf who was halfway up the hill and pulled one of his spears from its sheath.