The merchant happily gave Ymdaton details on where to find a hunter, or rather a hunter-gatherer as he was styled by Dragomir.

“Why didn’t that soil crawler build his home somewhere by the road,” asked angrily Paltisumas, who rode beside Crewslayer, “Instead, you can only reach him by trudging through fields. Looks like he enjoys troubling others.”

“Nah, he just wants less visitors,” said Viroglyad, “He is the one who steals goods of the forest and brings them to men for sale. He makes his living by playing hide and seek with the horrors of the woods. Of course he is a bit weird.”

“Shush,” Ymdaton pointed his finger forward, “I can see his home from here.”

Indeed, a small building was seen at the horizon, at the very edge of the forest. After a closer look, the hunter’s house was in fact a dugout with only a wooden roof standing higher than the ground. Gatherer himself was also present to the eyes. The man was rather small, three and a half cubits of height, not wide in shoulders, with a short cut black hair that was touched with silver, mustache adorned his scarred face.

The hunter did not pay attention to his guests. Instead, he was absorbed by tying a bunch of dead leaves by petioles. At his site sat a cat with a thick long fur of light black colour, which became grey at its sides, muzzle, ears, and paws. It watched man’s work with interest in its green eyes. Soon the man finished and threw the result of his work to the animal. The cat happily catched it and began rolling it around. Only after this the hunter turned his disinterested gaze to the visitors.

“Greetings, hunter,” said Ymdaton while dismounting, “We came to ask you…”

“I know exactly why you came,” cut him off the man, “Dragomir the trader already was here earlier pleading me to bring the bark of tree, leaves of which never fall. So that his precious child could be saved from a fever. I asked him to provide me with an escort of able warriors, yet you do not look like one.”

“Should I strike you from your feet, so that you change your decision?” retorted Viroglyad.

“You can try, but there is no need,” the hunter did not lose calmness, “hand me your sword so I can judge you by it.”

The militiaman looked at Ymdaton doubtfully. Crewslayer nodded. Drevlyani warrior unsheathed his blade and gave it to the huntsman. The hunter weighted the blade in his hands and then pointed it at Viroglyad.

“Defend yourself,” said he and made a swing. The militia dodged.

Paltisumas surged forward, intending to help, but Ymdaton stayed him with a hand.

“I think, our drevlyani friend can handle it,” told he to the crewman.

Contrary to his small build, the hunter swung the sword without much effort. Viroglyad avoided several more strikes, then catched the next blow between his armguard and his side. Not letting the blade go, he turned, pulling it from hunter’s hands and simultaneously kicked him in the wrist. He threatened the hunter with his regained weapon immediately.

“Have you made your judgement, forest thief?” asked he with a grin.

“Yes,” the hunter turned to Crewslayer, “It looks like you are in charge here. My name is Zvenmir and I will lead you to where the medicine can be gathered. I warn you, however, some of us may not return. The danger is grave.”

“My name is Ymdaton and if you heard about me, than you know how I deal with the forces of the forest. Let us not waste time here.”

Upon hearing these words, the hunter-gatherer rushed to pack up his belongings. The party was ready and set out before the sun reached its zenith.