Chapter 8

Michael started awake. There was shouting nearby. Human shouting. He used his perch in the tree to look around, but could see nothing.

He quickly climbed down out of the tree and across the riverbank. Nearby there was a grove of trees that opened up into a gorge that had several small natural caves sinking away and into the ground. He could see there was a group of four men armed with clubs and spears, and they were harassing a small pack of wolves.

One wolf lay dead already, blood leaking from his snout. Three more were backed up into one of the caves and were growling and snapping at the men.

‘Must be a hunting party. Which means there is a tribe nearby! Thank christ. Civilization at last.’

The hunters had the wolves cornered and began pelting them with rocks, attempting to drive them from their cave and into the open. They were laughing and jeering at the wolves as they hurled their impromptu projectiles. One of the wolves was hit in the head with a fist sized stone, and bolted. It snarled as it lunged for them, but the hunters were working as a team. While the wolf leapt for one, another hunter rounded the side and speared it. He held the snapping, biting animal at bay as the first hunter came up and began beating the wolf around the head with his club. The hunters cheered and high fived as the wolf finally lie still.

‘Poachers?’ Michael thought ‘It certainly seems like they are enjoying the hunt...a little too much.’

The two wolves in the cave ran to defend their packmate. They split up and each attacked one of the hunters. The man with the club went down with a cry after the wolf tore his hamstring out. Before his fellow hunters could assist, he stilled as his throat was torn open.

The hunters laughs and jeers, faded as they became snarls of rage. Michael was still some distance away, but he could still see their entire demeanor shift. They were pissed.

The second wolf was fast, but not so lucky. The hunter pulled his spear out of the downed wolf, and turned to his attacker. The hunter wasn’t able to stab it, but did manage to get the spear between them as it bowled him over, and keep the fangs away from his more squishy body parts. He bellowed in pain and rage, when the wolf’s nails tore at his hide clothing, shredding it to ribbons. He only had to last a few seconds though, until another hunter smashed the wolf off with his war club.

The wolf went tumbling, but spun around ready to fight, claws skidding and tearing at the earth for purchase. The two surviving wolves were hurt and up against a coordinated and superior force. Michael didn’t think it would be long the wolves lost.

Michael quickly abandoned his viewpoint and ran to help the hunters. He was the only one with a bow, he was sure he could help end the fight quickly before anyone else got hurt. The hunter who been pinned rose shakily to his feet. He wobbled slightly as he held his spear, trying to help, but really just presenting less of a target. There were two mildly injured wolves, to two fresh humans.

It was game over.

The hunters began advancing towards the circling wolves. Two of the hunters caught a wolf between them and the wall of the cave, and began taking turns clubbing the animal to death. Michael’s run began to falter.

He had seen hunters before in real life, though he had never been hunting himself. He knew that a true hunter takes from nature, but also takes pains to make sure that the animal doesn’t suffer more than it needs to. It is still a living creature after all. After his short sprint Michael was close enough to see that the wolf in the cave was dying, and putting up no fight, but the men kept beating it over and over. They weren’t even aiming for vital spots like the head or neck, but instead were smashing its legs, hips and shoulders. The most disturbing thing was that they were jeering.

Michael was disgusted. Out here in the wilderness, hunting was a necessary evil and sometimes it was dark and messy; but there was a difference between an ugly kill, and making a living creature suffer.

The hunters heavy clubs finally silenced the cries of the cornered and downed wolf, leaving one standing, and one bleeding out from a spear wound in the grass. The fresh wolf had circled until it reached its fallen packmate growling warning at the advancing hunters.

The hunter advanced slowly, spear at the ready and chest still bleeding from where he had been torn. He jabbed at the wolf, slicing part of its cheek open. Even from this distance Michael could see the teeth and jawbone poking through back side of its muzzle. It snapped at the offending spear but refused to move.

The hunter circled, jabbing the wolf about the head and shoulders to keep its attention, opening up several more wounds. Blood was pouring off the wolf now, bathing the one it was protecting who could do nothing but lay there and whine its agony.

The wolf’s reaction time began to slow as blood pumped from its wounds. The hunter took his opening with a twisted smile, and lunged.

The wolf suddenly sprang out of the way of the stab and lunged forward, teeth closing over the hunters throat. With a strangled cry, the hunter died when his trachea was ripped from his body in a shower of gore and blood. He simply clutched at his mangled throat, and collapsed.

The other two hunters seemed to catch their breath from beating on the dead wolf in the cave, and turned at their brothers cry. Shouting and raising their clubs they ran to where the wolf was staggering back over its packmate.

Michael had seen enough. This wasn’t hunting. This … this was something else. These men had beaten a wolf to death slowly, and had laughed as it cried.

He suddenly didn’t care about Sara’s request to take care of her people. If these were the kind of people that she wanted him to protect, he’d rather check out the other goddesses. He was only a couple dozen feet away when he drew his bow and knocked his first arrow. He activated Aimed Shot with barely and thought and loosed. The arrow flew through the air to punch through the neck of the leftmost hunter, who immediately dropped clutching at his neck and gargling his distress.

The second hunter saw his fellow fall, and turned to face Michael as he drew and nocked a second arrow. The man’s eyes widened, and then he turned to run. Sprinting across the clearing as fast his exhausted legs could carry him.

Michael followed the man with his aim, pulling back even harder on the bow, bending it to its max capacity. He could hear the would start to splinter under the strain. His jaw clenched as he held his aim, and pulled even more soul power from his chest and funneled it into the shot.

The arrow head began to glow brighter and brighter as Michael forced the twisting torrent of energy in his chest to obey him. When he thought there was no more to give, he loosed.

The arrow flew true, and hit the fleeing hunter square in the back. It punched a grapefruit sized hole through the man’s spine, into his lungs, and out through his chest and continued on until it slammed into a tree a dozen paces off and embedded itself halfway up the shaft.

The hunter took one more step, and collapsed to the ground. Dead.

DING

You have created a new skill: Power Shot

A powerful shot that can be used to pierce armor or reach foes at a great distance, doing (STR+AGI)xWEAPON damage. Requires 20SP

Michael scanned the area to make sure all the poachers were dead, he’d refuse to think of them as hunters. It was the first time he had killed humanoids in the game, and was a little nauseous at how realistic the damage was. There were bits of organs still stuck to the arrow embedded in the tree, and blood rushed out of the man with the ruined throat as if it was being shot out of a cannon.

The grey mist floated off the man missing most of his chest and into Michael. He watched his soul power jump from seventy to one hundred. The second grey mist floated up from the man with an arrow in his neck a few seconds later and sunk into Michael as well, but as he watched his soul power stayed at one hundred.

Warning

You have reached the maximum capacity of your soul to hold on to power. You should increase your limit or you will not be able to retain any additional power.

Michael cursed and quickly opened up his stats menu.

Magic: 1

Skill 83/100

Upgrade for 25SP.

Upgrade now?

Yes/No

Michael considered his options. He had healed himself a only a couple times, perhaps no more than six, and he was already about to level. If he spent the twenty five soul power now, he could level instantly, but would have to start the progression all over again. Sure he’d have more capacity, but there was nothing he needed to kill right now, and he might get attacked and need the power. If he died, he lost all of it. He guessed he could heal himself, but that would just be a waste of power.

He thought about the problem for a second, mulling it over in his head. His attention was suddenly drawn to the wolf who had protected her mate. It was had laid down and was whining at him. Barely alive, its flesh hanging off of it in ragged strips, it’s eyes met his and seemed to plead with him.

Michael suddenly had an epiphany. In LinkWorld, there were some classes that could tame ghosts and demons to do their bidding. Michael had typically focused on his mage spells, so he never paid them much attention, but what if he could tame a creature in Iona like that?

This could be the answer to several of his problems. Michael eased closer, making soothing noises and holding his hands out in a non threatening manner. The wolf considered him, but didn’t move as he neared.

It was no surprise that the wolf seemed to be in great pain and almost eager for his help, but Michael was still surprised when it let him touch it. The wolf jerked a little at the contact, but then Michael was running his hands through the red and brown fur. He continued to make shushing noises and pet the animal in what he hoped was a soothing way.

He reached into his chest, grabbed his power, and activated his healing fog. This time, instead of thinking about his own injuries, he focused on where his hands met with the wolf. The gentle white fog, gathered around his arms and trickled down his hands and onto the wolf. It hovered for just a second before glowing green and sinking down.

The wolf jerked and yipped. Michael remembered his own healing wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, so he shushed louder and tried to gently hold the wolf down. The fog pooled on its injures, and slowly they started to heal. First the bleeding slowed and then stopped, and gradually the skin knit back together, leaving fresh pink skin.

The face took the longest, but eventually even the jaw was back in one piece. Only the dried blood on its fur any reminder of the ragged wound it once had.

The wolf bound to its feet and yipping excitedly. It licked Michael’s hand and then nosed the packmate it had been protecting, and looked back to Michael. It repeated the process several times, as if it was trying to tell him to heal the other one, but even at a cursory glance, he could tell the wolf was dead. There was no point in trying to heal that.

“Sorry….” Michael snuck a glance, “girl. There’s nothing I can do for him. He’s dead.” He shook his head sadly. The wolf looked at him confused and nudged her mate. It didn’t move. She nudged it again. Nothing. She looked from Michael to the wolf and back.

Then it seemed to click. She sat down next to the dead wolf, head hung, and whined. The whines grew in volume and frequency, until eventually it was one long whine. Then she threw back her head and howled.

It was obvious to Michael that the poor wolf was sobbing. Her echoing cry, pierced the air and carried over the entire forest, surely to be heard for miles.

It took a minute or two but the howl finally ended, and she was resigned to just laying next to her packmate and whine quietly. Michael held out a piece of smoked deer that he had stuffed in his shirt pocket and offered it to her.

She sniffed at the meat warily, her head waiving back and forth as she tried to eye the meat and keep her eyes on him. Tentatively she reached out and took it, instantly retreating back a ways to eat in peace. Michael was thrilled.

He had to repeat the process with every last scrap of meat he had, but by the last bite he was able to pet her as she ate. When she finished, she leaned into his hand guiding it to that spot just behind the ear, that all dogs seem to love, and lolled her tongue out when he gave it a good scratch.

He rose from the petting and wandered over to the poachers to check them for anything of value. Apart from some feathers and animal bone necklaces, they weren’t carrying anything but their weapons and some sort of nuts in small pouches.

Michael quickly liberated them of the pouches, but he had no way to carry three clubs, so he just took the spear, and slung his bow over his shoulder like robin hood. He turned to the wolf, who was nosing her other packmates, and letting out soft whines. He whistled to catch her attention and then squatted in the universal “come here” pose.

She eyed him for a second, cocking her head as if she was thinking about it, and then wandered over to him slowly. He put out his hands and let her smell him again, and chuckled when she sniffed around his pockets for more food.

“Sorry girl, I don’t have any more right now. If you come with me though, I’ll get you some more. What do you say? Wanna work together?”

She put her head under his hand, and lolled her tongue when he scratched her ears. Michael chuckled. “You have no idea what I’m saying do you? Of course you don’t. You’re a wolf.”

Michael stood and crossed the clearing, back towards the river. He paused at the edge of the trees and whistled at the wolf. She stood there, in the middle of the clearing and looked at him. He whistled again. She cocked her head, as if to say ‘What is that noise you’re making’. He whistled a third time.

This time, she looked at him, and looked back to her packmates lying dead in the caves behind her, then back at him. She slowly began walking towards Michael as if each step was heavy. She came all the way to him and put her head under his hand again. He obliged and gave her a good scratch. Then he turned and walked into the forest. He hoped she would follow him, if for no other reason than that he might have more treats.

He looked over his shoulder and saw her glance behind her one more time, and then she followed him into the forest.

DING

You have tamed: Wolf.

Tamed animals can serve as guardians and with time, patience, and training, they can grow with their owners and become powerful companions. Treat them well and they will return your love, treat them poorly and sleep with one eye open.

I choose you wolf!

DING

Your Magic has increased to: 2

‘Holy crap! I just tamed a wolf? That is so fucking badass!’

Another prompt popped up almost immediately.

What would you like to name your companion?

Michael only needed to think about it for a few milliseconds before he knew exactly what he wanted to name her.

“Kari” he said aloud. A small ding chimed in his ear as Iona recognized his command.