Tent Flap IV
Gordon’s alarm was going off. The shrill trill slicing into his sleepy warmth. One flapping arm found no nightstand, but was greeted by the sodden earth and the crush of leaves. His eyes snapped open and he stared along the forest floor that served as his bedding. The sharp singing of a nearby songbird brought his displacement into focus, and he lifted his head, searching for remnants of the corpse which had snatched him.
Only the rich visage of nature stared back. He plucked a slug off of the back of one hand and rose to his feet with a weary creak. The ancient forest around him was awash in a muted glow. The high canopy shielded the mighty trees which ranged as far as he could see. The slow turn and stare he made came to a halt as a man stepped into view.
Rugged and weathered, the smaller man was all skins and seriousness. He looked at Gerard, looked through Gerard as if trying to comprehend what he saw. Gerard saw the knocked arrow on the hunter’s bow and froze. They weren’t ten feet apart. The hunter raised a hand and waved, and a handful of other figures moved through the wood on ghost feet, a careful progression toward an unknown goal.
“I mean you no harm,” Gerard said, hands splayed forward and his mind still spinning to make sense of anything.
The hunter cocked his head and then drew his bow.
Gerard only had time to grunt in reaction as the arrow snapped its lethal message. He flailed his hands in reflexive defense and spun with the perceived impact as the arrow passed through him. His eyes searched his torso for the fletching but found none, and a distant squeal brought his eyes forward again to the deer that had been skewered by the arrow.
Before Gerard could recover, the phantom hunter passed through him and he was awash with images and thoughts. Riotous joy over the kill. A handful of beautiful children. A village ringed in smoke. The pain of a lost woman. The threat of an impending winter. And then the hunter reappeared with a sucking scream of energy and Gerard collapsed in anguish.