Ten men turned their backs.

They were army veterans of multiple excursions. None of them had many prospects when signing up, but it was where they found their purpose. They were sons of widows who followed in the steps of their fathers. This time around, the difference was that none of the men who volunteered had family waiting for them back home.

The mutilated soldiers were a different story. Those kids had family, and they had the potential to grow on the battlefield. However, a psychopath tore them apart, just as he did on the last expedition.

The cannibal had tracked them through the desert, picking off a new soldier every night. Sometimes two.

The soldiers were up in arms, but it was the fury of the General that stayed their hands. The General never expressed his displeasure; he wouldn't.

The amount of respect the veterans held for the General could not be measured. As commanding officers went, there couldn't be a better General. Someone young, fearless, and unstoppable. Someone who led from the front and cared about his men. That is why they trusted the General to take care of it.

The General began to take watches personally and continued to do so until the killer was caught.

When word of the cannibal's death spread through the ranks, there was relief.

Hearing how he was back and how new blood had been spilled...It was unacceptable.

Ruger wouldn't stand for it. He was the first to volunteer. As the oldest among the veterans, he felt obligated to see this done.

The brothers, Brick and Mason, volunteered almost in the same breath. Well, Brick mostly snorted, but that was as clear as an answer you could get from the man.

The other veterans were quick to volunteer, but Jerome would only take nine. That is until a giant named Uri stepped forward. Uri was nearly half-again the size of Klein, but twice his age and covered in hair. He'd torn off the sleeves of his uniform a long time ago, and no one had the guts to offer him a new one.

"Uri volunteers."

So said Uri. Jerome sighed heavily but agreed nonetheless. Some soldiers could be ordered to stand down but no one tried Uri.

Jerome put Ruger in charge and left with the rest of the army.

After spending a small amount of time with what remained of the bodies, they figured that east was the direction to head in. The marsh let up into a copse of trees and drier land that may be where the killer acquired the squirrel skulls to decorate his hatchet.

Speaking of, Mason dug the weapon out of the dead man's back. It felt disgusting to handle.

Brick grunted at his brother. Mason had a penchant for blades but keeping the murderer's weapon offended Brick.

"I've got an idea for some poetic justice. I would never touch something so vile otherwise."

His voice was scratchy like a smoker's. He claimed innocence. The cough he often exhibited led others to believe that was a lie.

Ruger gave everyone a formation to stick to. They didn't want to send out a scout and have him picked off by the cannibal or other skulking beasts. There were more dangerous things to be worried about than an occasional Swamp Armadillo.

"Did anyone else notice that there were only three bodies? Two, plus a head, but there should have been evidence of a fourth."

"The Lieutenant didn't mention the fourth, but we can expect it was taken along with the woman's."

"The woman's clearly dead, but he may have taken the last one to snack on later. The large one's too heavy, but why didn't he take the one with an axe to the back?"

Mason was offended. It is a hatchet.

Ruger stopped the discussion by pitching the obvious answer.

"He can make a new axe."

A handful of them recoiled. Mason was already regretting hanging onto the weapon. Ruger shook his head and paid attention to where he was walking.

"It was never a question that this guy's not right in the head. Making weapons from the bones he's picked clean makes twisted sense."

"Ouch!"

They drew their weapons at Uri's shout. He lifted his leg, pulling up a scaled alligator clamped onto his shin. Reaching a meaty fist down, he pried the beast's jaw away from his skin. It rolled and flailed helplessly as Uri gripped it by the tail and flung it away like a spent baseball bat. The adolescent creature hit a nearby tree with a thud.

Growling, Uri set his foot back down.

"Ouch."

The word indicated he was fine. Ruger and the others shook their head and moved on. Antics aside, they were on the lookout for traps. Pit traps and spikes specifically. Things that a starved cannibal might make to hunt animals when his preferred prey was scarce.

Ruger's assumptions were correct. They found two such traps and on of them nearly castrated Brick. It was dismantled with extreme prejudice.

Their party's pace slowed considerably with more mounting evidence. As the land became drier, they began to discover a trail of bones. At first it was only a few teeth. Then it was long bones sticking out of the ground like carrot stalks.

"It's like he's rolling out a carpet for us."

The man who spoke got a punch to the arm. Ruger held the quiet, inching up on what appeared to be a camp. The bend in the trees hid an old hunter's sanctuary. A clearing with a felled log facing a damp firepit. Further back was a tarp-covered workspace for cleaning game and processing kills. There was even a tanning rack, but the attached hide wasn't from an animal.

The grips on their weapons grew tighter. There was no sign of the cannibal being present. They thoroughly checked the ground and scanned the trees to see if he was hiding but he wasn't present.

"Ruger."

Mason pointed to a second exit. It led back into marshy waters, but what drew attention was the human effigy.. A woman's corpse mounted a pike in the most horrid way. Stomachs churned but no lunch was lost.

"There used to be a boat moored here."

Ruger knelt down and examined the impression on the muddy bank. Seeing how old it was, he was left with a choice. Both choices involved continuing the hunt, but seeing that the cannibal was taunting them made him more hesitant.

Luckily, the decision was made more him.

"Uri takes woman down. She deserves proper burial."

Seeing the giant already going about the gruesome work set Ruger at ease.

"The rest of you can search around. This used to be a hunter's cache, so there should be supplies we can use."

"What makes you think there is anything left?"

Ruger pointed to all the decoration.

"This presentation is equivalent to a welcome mat, but it isn't his main base. This is intimidation before the main trap. With how much effort he put into this, I can't imagine he had the time to take everything with him."

Brick snorted and got to work. He started by kicking over the demented tanning rack. The others were more subdued in their methods. On top of searching for useful items, they buried many of the bones that were on display.

Leaving them out was bad luck.

The tarped area was the most gruesome. It had been stained by blood. Mostly animals judging by the bird and squirrel skulls. Looking underneath the bench uncovered a hidden stash. There were a few dried rations that none of them particularly wanted but were stored for later consumption. The shortbow was the real treasure. That a well maintained bow was accompanied by a quiver of arrows made it seem almost too good to be true.

A leatherbound journal was also found inside. It was supposedly from the original owner of the cache but the cannibal scrawled over it with insane images.

While the bow was hands to their best archer, the journal held little interest in anyone other than Ruger. He thought it might hold clues to the Hunter's identity. Maybe he could find the next of kin and notify them of his unfortunate end.

He was flipping through the pages when he found a folded piece of paper. It stood out because it was cleaner than the rest. It was practically brand new. Unfolding it revealed a well drawn portrait of a man. The eyes were crossed out with blood. Something about it tickled the back of Ruger's mind.

"Why does this face look familiar?"

Ruger held the photo out for Mason. Mason squinted at it. Moving closer, he took the paper and held it closer to his face.

"Hard to recognize without the eyes. Maybe it's what the freak used to look like. I did hear that the Lieutenant shot him in the eye."

Ruger rubbed his beard.

"Nah. Both eyes are crossed out. This looks like a wanted poster without the lettering. I'm telling you, I've seen that face before."

"Maybe he's a soldier. Oi! Brick. Come here and have a look at this."

His call brought more than just Brick. The entire group passed around the photo. No one recgonized the face. Brick only sniffed.

Uri, on the other hand, snatched it away.

"I know this man. Boy, more like it."

A new voice completed Uri's thought.

"Bellavarn."

"Yes. That is it. Bella-varn. I recognize from supply tent. He gave Uri extra sweet roll. "

Mason and Ruger drew their blades, followed by the others a moment later. Ruger spoke with authority.

"Uri."

"I am Uri, what is problem?"

Mason pointed with his chin.

"Turn around. We have company."

Following his brethren's suggestion, Uri turned 180 degrees. He saw no one. Then he looked down.

A cloaked figure stood eerily close to him. The dark blue hid the features of the person inside. The stature and frame indicated it was unlikely to be the cannibal.

"Woman."

Uri's statement simultaneously produced tension and relieved it. When a gloved hand reached out for the paper and Uri allowed it to be taken. He saw only the top of her head as she examined the vandalized portrait.

She stood in silence so long that Uri looked to the others for assistance. Brick shrugged his shoulders unhelpfully.

"This is Bellavarn."

The monotone words were feminine.

The portrait disappeared into her cloak. Looking up, she pulled back her hood. Cropped brown hair fell down. Bangs covered her forehead while the rest barely reached her shoulders. It wasn't as messy as it should have been.

Her expression was calm and unassuming.

"I will help you."