“We have the pleasure of having one of the most famous hunters of recent times. A living legend with more than a hundred cerberus heads, a score of chimera horns and as many basilisk fangs. The hunter of the five–headed Xiaeedra hydra. Tell us, Borot, to me and to all these people... what monster gave you that horrible scar?”

“My wife.”

Conversation in a tavern.

Derren rested behind a small rocky elevation that protected him from the wind, lying down but with his eyes open and attentive to any sign of danger. And, eventually, to enjoy the sunrise. Quite a spectacle.

Bits of puffy clouds frayed delicately on the pink canvas crossed by several dozen shadows flying in a triangular formation to the west. In the distance, the coat of fading foliage greenery grew lighter as the curtain of shadow was drawn back. The curtain of night. The forest was waking up.

Demi slept next to him with complete unconcern, curled up and with her cheek on one hand. The hunter got up and dusted himself off. He reached into the pack and pulled out the water bladder to hydrate himself. He slapped his face several times and tried to comb his greasy, twig–colored hair, flattening the horns he knew he had grown. He heard something.

He listened carefully. Detachments. Small. Slight. Dull. Someone was climbing.

He peered out quickly, his heartbeat racing. It couldn't be an animal, but it could be some insect of those that were too big for his taste. He hated sinking his helienum blade into slimy things and was repulsed by stains of that nasty green goo.

He was surprised to find that it was a person. A person who smiled at him a few feet from the top. The huntress of Serpentia. The one he had met on the ship, sailing through the central sea. Had she detected them before or was it mere chance?

“I guess the egg mush at the foot of this tusk is your doing,” she declared as she dusted herself off and unknotted the rope she'd used to secure it. “I wouldn't have let mini dragonflies out of there either, you know.”

“I'm glad you approve.”

“I would have eaten them. I'm sick of roots and flowers. Aren't there any wolves in this forest? And what happened to the cerberus? Last time I was here it was crawling with them.”

“I don't know... It's strange to me too... We haven't seen a single one. And all the corpses we've found were in one piece.”

“Yeah, I have also come across several corpses. From Géiserveld, Moontomb, Roughtip... and two from Dragonden. The strange thing is that nothing had tried to devour them yet.”

“The dragonfly's venom may scare them away.”

“I guess that doesn't matter now,” the woman shrugged. “That critter will show up any minute looking for her precious eggs. Do you think it'll be mad when it sees they're gone? It might mistake us for its young! Do you know how to imitate the noise of a dragonfly?”

The hunter raised an eyebrow. The more she spoke, the less impressive the Serpentia huntress seemed to him. Her buckle commanded respect, but her words and laughter detracted from that effect.

“By the way, my name is Ysbra. Derren, right?” The woman noticed the silhouette lying behind some rocky elevations and decided to approach, ignoring whatever the hunter was cackling. “What the hell is this little girl doing up here? And in a hunter's doublet! But she's just a kid!”

Demi woke up startled and looked around. She rubbed her eyes with both hands and opened her mouth in fright when she saw the hunter in front of her. She leaned back with her hands flat on the ground and kept looking at her until her head hit the rock wall that had sheltered her from the wind. Ysbra smiled and drew her sword faster than the sound of steel. She adopted a threatening gesture, with the saber ready to start cutting the girl into pieces.

“Derren!” she shouted, frightened and cornered.

Demi's candid expression mutated. She went from innocence personified to a fierce and savage face. She sprang to her feet, nerves jangling, and approached the sword with hardened features and clenched jaws. Her gray eyes flashed devoid of fear and, for a second, Ysbra hesitated.

Derren saw it too. He had the impression that an iridescent sliver of Demi's eyes turned blood red.

Derren took a step toward her with a lopsided grin and the catana sheathed behind his back. Demi exhaled a sigh of relief as soon as she saw him, and her features returned to normal.

“Don't worry, she's a companion. Hunters are forbidden to kill humans.”

“Ah, I knew this little girl couldn't be a huntress, even if she was from the smallest territory in the Thousand Kingdoms. She has the soft face of those who haven't even hunted a squirrel. Although when she gets angry... she doesn't like jokes! I won't point this at you again,” she promised, sheathing her blade and shaking her hand amicably.

Up there, on top of the bluff, they had no choice but to wait patiently. Sitting but in tension. Waiting for the darts of death, to dodge them. The area was not suitable for setting traps, not even if they had had the forest materials at hand. There were three of them. Two swords and a bow. Although a bow that would hardly serve to attack from a distance, as it was very rudimentary, not to mention the arrows, which were even more rudimentary.

They were talking about the pieces that one and the other had hunted, about the small kings they had worked for and the rewards. None had been higher than the three thousand silver shields offered for the dragonfly.

“I've never seen so much money together. I wonder how I'm going to get it out of that palace. And you, have you already planned a bigger bag?”

“I asked them to prepare a cart, and buying a donkey won't be a problem.”

“But...” Demi interjected, “who of the two of you will get the reward, if you hunt it half and half?”

The two hunters looked at each other. Given the circumstances, Derren didn't mind having reinforcements to fight the monster that had killed the other hunters. In fact, it reassured him. Only an idiot would refuse the help of someone from Serpentia. Only an idiot would fight alone against an unknown opponent, a monster never seen before.

“I suppose fifteen hundred silver shields would be easier to transport,” Ysbra said without giving the matter any importance.

Derren nodded approvingly and the girl smiled, for that was the answer she had wanted to hear. But her smile was short–lived.

There came a moment when Ysbra tensed. Derren wondered, and a healthy uneasiness came over him. Had the moment arrived? Immediately, the huntress stood up, bent her knees, and looked around with a finger to her mouth, asking for silence. Demi, who was telling a story just then, fell silent. The hunter, for his part, sharpened his hearing. Was it possible that this woman had better hearing than he did?

No. He could hear it too. A distant hum. The buzzing of wings. Wings moving at great speed. It sounded as if a hundred thousand bees were heading towards them, ready to sting them at the cost of their lives.

A blackish dot appeared in the distance, moving ahead of the white clouds that studded the indigo sky. Any normal person would have mistaken it for a simple bird of prey, or an ikran perhaps, but the buzzing sound did not fool the hunters. It was a unique sound, a new sound. Derren had studied hundreds of sounds at the hunting school. There they held captive dozens of birds and insects, amphibians and lizards, felines, canines and the most peculiar monsters.

Ysbra drew and Derren turned to face Demi. He saw her completely petrified, pale as lime.

“Give me your bow and hide behind that elevation!” he ordered.

The girl threw her weapon and her three remaining arrows at him, tied with a loop of stem and went for cover. Derren caught everything on the fly and tried tightening the string. Maybe it would get a wing through, maybe....

“Do you really plan to do anything with that toy?” the huntress scoffed.

Her tone of voice did not show a hint of fear. Derren, on the other hand, was nervous. And yes, why not admit it? He was afraid. Fear made him move faster, aim better, hit harder. Like loneliness, fear was a faithful companion. Undoubtedly the companion that had saved his life the most times.

“Then it won't take me seriously,” he thought to say in his defense. “Maybe it'll let its guard down.”

As they spoke, the fuzzy black spot grew larger and sharper on his retina. Four legs could be made out, hanging bent in the air, and a fifth strand that must have been the tail. Derren placed an arrow on the string and pulled it halfway taut.

When it came closer, the buzzing sound became thunderous. Both hunters realized that the creature was little like a dragonfly. Had it not been for the translucent wings, no one would have thought of comparing this monster to an insect. Its wings vibrated at an astonishing speed, just enough to keep this beast as big as three horses in the air.

The hunter took aim. He tightened the rope as far as he thought it would hold, and... he let go. The arrow soared through the sky carrying its dire promise. Everyone watched the trajectory, expectantly. But the bug saw it coming a mile away and only had to fly a few feet lower to dodge it. Then Derren put the bow back together and released the second one. Then he placed the last arrow and fired.

They all saw it. And heard them. Two deadly whistles. The dragonfly dodged the second arrow, but could not avoid the last one, which flew lower. It pierced the membrane of its wing and was lost in the infinite blue of the sky. The monster howled and its four wings vibrated more fiercely. The pierced wing was apparently still working perfectly.

Derren cursed to himself, dropped the bow and drew his blade. The greenish edge of the helienum glowed under Ysbra's watchful gaze. She too prepared to give the monster a cold welcome.

“I hope they taught you to be a team player, Derren of Green Fangs,” she said with a half–smile.

The truth was no, but Derren just nodded seriously. There was no time for doubts. It was time to unleash the hunter's instincts, for the prey was already there.