They were finally here, the penultimate task before finding out the cost of the miracle melon. Calf had been taught from the time he was able to wield his first bow to always honor every kill and to never waste any part of his catch. The trades had helped with the placements of the rooster's materials and now, all but its blood and fecal material had been accounted for. He packed a portion of the waste material into a tube of silver tract and sealed it on both ends with sinew. He then verbalized what he intended for the meat, heart and fecal matter while facing the skies and with that, it was time for him to close the hunt.

This was his first kill of such an illustrious prey, so he'd be required by custom to mark himself with strokes of its blood on his forehead. A maximum of 3 strokes were allowed by tradition and they were based on one's part and performance in any first hunt. The first and shortest was the tracker's stroke, the second a slender vertical band known as a killer's stroke, and the third and final, a thick horizontal band representing a flawless stroke assigned to one who survives the hunt unscathed. The strokes were delivered in that order and their lengths were relative to the bearer's head, making for a universal honor system.

Should one survive the hunt only by virtue of not actively participating, they would only receive a flawless stroke. It was a mark of cowardice when borne on its own, and the placement would make it hard to miss. The single stroke would be painted across the bridge of the nose, and past their eyelids to the beginning of their ears.

A less shameful designation would go to pure trackers who refrained from the killing part of the hunt. Their first stroke would be a tracker's band that would fit snugly on the bridge of the nose. Beyond having two strokes they were distinguishable from their cowardly counterparts by the placement of the survivor's stroke, which would be moved up to brow height and cover both brows and the space between them.

The next honor would be awarded to individuals who performed both the tracking and the killing jobs but sustained injuries during the hunt. The killer's stroke would sit perfectly across the bridge of the nose, pushing the tracker's stroke to brow height and sitting snugly between the brows.

The highest possible honor would be reserved for those who did both jobs and still managed to survive the hunt unscathed. They would receive all 3 strokes, with the survivor's stroke moving up to occupy the forehead.

Though his efforts had ultimately resulted in him gaining the hardened skin over his right arm and shoulder blades, that had been through an injury from the rooster's flames. His efforts thus only qualified him for 2 strokes, the tracker’s, and the killer's stroke. He approached the draining pit and noted the streaks of silver lining the blood as he knelt before it. He wiped the bridge of his nose and between his eyebrows before making to dip two fingers into the pit. The Hunter beat him to it and dipped a single finger, gesturing for Calf to present his face for the marking. Calf hadn't even noticed the man move, but he put his awe aside and obliged the man, tilting his head back to expose his face.

The Hunter placed the finger on the bridge of Calf's nose and traced the killer's stroke to just below the eyebrows. He then moved his finger to between the brows for the tracker's stroke without pause. As the strokes were being made, Calf could feel his temperature rise as if each stroke turned up the heat in his heart, getting hotter with each pump till it felt like it was about to boil.

He tried to get up but couldn't gather enough strength in his limbs to do so. Sweat trickled to a drench within seconds as his blood pumped faster and faster. He watched as one of the beads grew overlarge for a trickle and dropped into the pit. As soon as it made contact with the blood, the pool bubbled briefly before a whirl developed in it, starting at its center. Calf let himself fall to his side whilst keeping his eyes focused on the pit.

The blood whirled up in a conical form and slowly morphed into the likeness of the rooster, albeit red and quite the junior in proportion. A shell-like shard fell from the rooster, cluttering into the pit that had previously held its blood. The bird flapped its wings and stared daggers at Calf, and the daggers turned from metaphorical to literal with a cluck from the rooster. It felt as if his heart was getting needled for a few seconds before the pain coalesced into a burning ball at the center of his chest.

The ball splintered and blazed a path through his veins on its way to his back, coalescing into 2 different balls, a single one on each shoulder blade. The heat spread down to cover the wings of his back and Calf could feel bone and flesh shift in response. He rolled to his back in desperate hopes that contact with the ground would help quench the fire. He heard the sound of sizzling from his back as the pain raged on.

Overwhelmed by the pain, Calf hadn’t noticed the rooster’s movement, and when he finally did, the rooster was already inches away from him. It established a mind-to-mind connection with him, and Calf was briefly stunned by the act, but the rooster did not give him enough time to languish in his surprise. A feminine voice came across the link, “Will you accept a place under my wing, and in turn, honor me with your pledge of service?” came the question. Though gentle, the voice was dripping with authority, something he’d recently felt but wouldn’t dwell on, on threat of another headache.

So, this is what He meant by freedom, thought Calf, but before he could even formulate a response, the Hunter interrupted. As the Hunter gestured towards the rooster, the connection between them broke off and the recoil sent Calf flying. He hit the ground rolling, turning a few times before the momentum was exhausted. He only managed to tilt his head in the direction of the Hunter and the rooster before passing out. The last thing he saw was the Hunter spearing the rooster through the chest.

⯁⯁⯁

"You used me as bait!" shouted Calf. He’d woken up to the Hunter’s amused stare, which he’d initially responded to with a confused look before everything fell into place in his mind. The Hunter had done a bait-and-switch on the rooster, enticing it with the prospect of forming a contract with Calf, and switching that for a spear to the heart instead. Though its offer seemed inevitable given the ceremony that had triggered it, he hadn’t liked the fact of being used like that without his consent.

His anger simmered down at the thought of consent, remembering he’d made a bargain that had entailed an unknown price. Now that he knew the price, he didn’t have a right to claim it unfair. As if clued in on his realization and subsequent embarrassment, the Hunter left him to his ruminations for a few minutes before demanding his attention by clearing his throat. Calf shook the lingering wooziness before making for a tentative roll onto his side.

"Twice marked and yet to be suborned, and all that on the same day. That's got be some record," the Hunter started as Calf got to all fours. He spoke, unperturbed by Calf’s previous outburst, and as if continuing a conversation they were just having. “Let’s put that record to the test, shall we.” With that, the Hunter presented a resin block. Inside it was a miniature frozen form of the rooster, its black highlighted by the contrast of the amber around it.

Calf stepped back, feeling a hint of the pressure he’d felt when the rooster had communicated with him. He instinctively knew that despite its current state, it was beyond his own capabilities to challenge for a second time. The disparity in their auras made it feel like this, and the larger one that had spoken to him were the real deal, and the one he’d managed to kill was but a cheap imitation.

The Hunter grabbed Calf’s right arm to stop from retreating further, bringing the resin block to his face before asking, “My trade has been fulfilled by your ‘help’ in providing a worthy prey. This is what remains beyond my price, what will you do with it?” Calf considered for a second before giving his answer, “Release it.”

The Hunter looked as confused as Calf felt at that choice. Keeping it had been tempting, but it felt wrong for him to keep such a creature against its will, especially when he'd acquired it through third-party hands. Besides, how long would it take for the mysterious bird to erode the amber, and with it, the power to subjugate it. He would rather accept his lack of strength, assuage his conscience and earn some good will while doing so. He could’ve also traded the remnants for something of equal value from the Hunter's bag, and though he didn’t know what that could be, he had the feeling it would be something beyond his current capabilities to wield, let alone defend when those stronger than him came to claim it. He would already have enough trouble keeping the artifacts he'd already earned in the trial as-is.

The Hunter released the amber and it floated into to sky before cracking and shattering. As the shards dissipated into the air, the rooster grew back to its previous proportions. As it flew towards him, Calf noticed a single piece of resin still attached to the rooster’s right wing. With a single beat, the piece popped off and split into two pieces which floated towards Calf. He extended a hand to accept them. “My thanks. Two favors, should you find yourself in need of them in the Avian Lands,” the rooster whispered, before turning to the west and disappearing in the distance.

Calf stared at them for a second before wrapping them in a furry kerchief and removing them to his sling bag. He turned back to Hunter and spoke, “I guess this is it,” to which the Hunter responded, “Not yet.”

He went around Calf, inspecting his back and tracing it with his fingers. Once satisfied, he returned to face Calf. He grabbed Calf by the arm, lifting him to his line of sight before whispering, “Your third favor, sink or swim!” With that, he threw Calf high into the air.

Calf was briefly confused by the sequence of events and only caught up to his reality at the brief pause between his ascent and eventual descent. As gravity took hold and the ground grew closer, he managed to maintain his cool, relishing the air's caress as he fell and believing all would be well. He felt compelled to draw his arms to his sides, lowering the resistive surface and increasing the speed of his fall as a consequence.

He felt a somewhat familiar tugging at the back of his mind as he drew closer to the ground, and following that instinct, he spread his arms as if they were wings. As he did so, he felt his shoulder blades move slightly as the skin over them vibrated in the wind. The path of his descent curved slightly, and he narrowly missed the ground, gliding back up just centimeters from it. He floated for a brief moment just off the ground and noted the arm placement and the feeling of warm stationary air underneath his shoulder blades. Lowering his arms he began his descent, bending at the knee upon landing to disperse the force.

Another perk, he thought, as he flexed his shoulders. Had it been any other day he would've been inclined to rail at the Hunter given the fact he'd exposed him to danger thrice, but today would be different. It seemed any hidden perks he'd gained from extraordinary creatures would awaken on instinct as needed, and the feeling of impending doom seemed to be the best catalyst, as seen from the Hunter's approach.

From the look on the Hunter's face every time he pulled something like this though, he doubted these acts were purely benevolent. Though he generally held an unreadable expression, his eyes seemed to come alive whenever he put Calf in precarious situations.

Calf waited for what he'd gotten used to in their interactions. The Hunter had always followed up all of his actions with information dumps, both solicited and unsolicited, but this time when Calf turned to him, he just stared back in silence with a playful twinkle in his eyes. He nodded and threw Calf a beaming smile before turning to face the valley's exit. He advanced a few steps towards the exit before turning his head over his left shoulder to address Calf for the last time.

⯁⯁⯁

"Always remember the weight of a name. Name all your adversaries, for that can be the difference between a fast resolution and a protracted battle."

With that, the Hunter made his exit, blurring into the distance and leaving an impressed Calf marveling at the display. As he did so, a speech echoed from all around Calf, every word being committed to mind as if seared onto Calf's very cells. When the speech was finished, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky as if heralding the end of this leg of his rites. He'd done it, and it was about time he went home.