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The people in your small town lived in poverty, not much different from those who settled in the cities, though they hungered for different reasons. Those in cities crammed into small apartments, the remnants of decay and apathy spilling from the buildings and into the streets. The nobles controlled their territories with iron will, binding the fates of the people to their greed and avarice.
At least, out here, you could live off of the land and forge a potential life of your own, away from the dictates of nobles who cared far more about wealth and power than the well-being of their people.
Food was scarce within the town itself. Crops did not grow well because of the pollution and poor tilling of the earth — those who came before you were not so concerned with sustainability, draining the world of its nutrients and poisoning everything else. Your best bet for survival was through hunting and foraging in the woods. There were many dangers, of course, but you could either take the risk or die of starvation.
While the technology for guns existed, generally only the wealthy were able to afford them. Instead, you hunted with a bow that your grandfather had fashioned from the wood of an elm tree. It was a gift for your 15th birthday. You were responsible for the arrows, selecting the best materials from the forest to keep your quiver full. For every arrow you did not keep on hand, it was a chance of missing a meal.
Tonight, you were fortunate. You managed to pierce the heart of a young doe. She was small and thin, but the meat would last you and your family the rest of the week. You were far from home, and you began the butchering process, even setting up a small camp to roast a piece for yourself while your kill was still fresh.
With your favorite cut of venison roasting on a roughly made spit, you wandered into the neighboring woods to search for complements to your meal. You found wild mushrooms and berries, both of which would provide essential nutrients to your diet. When you nearly returned, you saw tracks in the mud, large paw prints that made you shudder in both surprise and realization. They were not here when you left, and they led straight to your camp.
You recognized them, having seen these prints once in your life. “A wolf,” you thought. Your grandfather pointed them out to you once when you were hunting together, explaining that while it was common belief that wolves were extinct, they were still around. He said that they were magnificent and dangerous creatures, both sly and powerful. He taught you everything you knew about hunting and tracking before he passed away shortly after you turned sixteen. You remembered him fondly and missed him every day.
You crept back to camp, peering through the bushes. You braced yourself for whatever beast you would see stealing your hard-earned kill — and you saw him. “What the hell are you doing?” you said, stomping into camp. “That’s my meat you’re eating!”
He glanced at you, a hunk of steaming venison in his hands; it seemed you did not surprise him at all. “I’m testing it for you,” he said, a touch of humor in in voice.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He chewed and swallowed. “There’s a folktale around these parts, you know.”
“I’m from these parts, so stop the bullshit.”
“Then you should know all about the werecats and their poisonous fangs.”
“Werecats?” You gestured toward the paw prints in the mud. “These are canine prints, genius. No way they belong to werecats.”
“Oh, well!” He shrugged, licking his fingers. “I guess I must have heard wrong, then.”
“These are wolf tracks.”
“Wolves?” he said with a scoff. “Don’t you know that wolves have been extinct for hundreds of years now?”
“No way.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Because I’ve seen their tracks around here before. My grandfather was an experienced hunter. He would know.”
“Oh?”
“He believed that the wolves were far too smart to have all died. He even told me stories about seeing them in the wild on his hunting expeditions.”
“You sound like you two were close.”
“We were,” you said with a sigh. “I miss him. He taught me so much about hunting and living off of the land, though, admittedly, it’s been getting harder and harder.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed the same. The name’s Hige, by the way. I’m sorry I stole your venison, but I was so hungry. You really saved me some stomach pains.”
You waved off his concerns. “I’ll never begrudge a hungry person a meal, if I can afford it. I think I’ll spend the rest of the day looking for more, though. If you help me haul it home, I’ll call us even. I’ll even throw in dinner.”
“I think that sounds more than fair.”
“I’m _____.” You offered your hand, but he took a step back.
“Don’t want to get meat juice on you, all right? Best keep your fingers clean.”
“Whatever you say.” You thought it was a little strange — he ought to know that your hands were also a mess after butchering the animal, but you didn’t question him. “Come on. There’s a lake nearby that waterfowl frequent. I think we might be able to get a duck or two.”
Hige was a surprisingly skilled tracker. He pointed out things that even you didn’t notice, even mentioning that he could smell duck feces upwind. Of course, you’d never heard of such a technique before — your sense of smell surely wasn’t so potent — but you weren’t one to reject an idea before you tried it. “It’s right behind those shrubs. If you can sneak up quietly, I think you should have a clear shot.”
Sure enough, he was right. You loosed an arrow, and the duck died instantly. Following his unique method, you hunted down another two.
“I’m impressed,” you said, as you made your way home, the day’s catch divided up between you both. “Where did you learn to track like that?”
“Oh, I guess I’ve always had a knack for it.”
“I could sure use someone like you.” He was handsome and well-natured, perhaps with just the right amount of humor. Having him around to help hunt would make your life much easier. Today was the most bountiful catch you’d ever had.
“Ah, but I’m a bit of a nomad. I never stay in one place for too long,” he said.
“Why not?”
“You start getting attached.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“It can be. It means you have something to lose.”
“Oh,” you said, glancing away. “I never thought about it that way. I’ve always had my family to take care of.”
“Kids?”
“Yeah, but they’re not mine. I shelter children whose parents have died — they are my family. My mother helps out, too, but she can only do so much. I’m often on the hunt for that reason. I have to provide.”
“I see. Well, it looks like you’re doing a good job of it.” Hige stopped, looking at the cabin. “This is yours?”
“That’s right. Want to come in?”
“Why wouldn’t I? It smells delightfully of baked bread.”
“That’s my mother at work. She’s a splendid cook. Just see what she can do with this deer and these ducks.”
Hige stayed for dinner, meeting the children and complimenting your mother and her cooking. Everyone seemed to like him. You did, too, hoping that perhaps after meeting these charming people you called family, he might change his mind. It would be nice to have an extra pair of hands around here and someone your age to talk to and hunt with.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” you said, following him out the door later that evening. The sun was just setting. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I think we could really make a great team out there. Maybe we’d even hunt enough meat to not feel quite so hungry all the time — we could sell the excess or give it to people in need.”
He grinned at you. “Hey, it’s a really nice offer. You’re a smart lady with a good heart, but as I said earlier, I never stay in one place for too long. It’s just not me.”
“Maybe you’ll return one day?” It would be worth it, perhaps, if you could see him again.
“Maybe,” he said. “It’s possible.”
“Oh.” You looked at your feet, unsure of how to respond.
“Well, _____, thanks for the meals. You take care of yourself and your family, all right? They sure are lucky to have you.”
“Thanks—” When you looked up, he had vanished. You looked around for him, sure that no one could disappear so quickly. When you looked for tracks, you did not see any belonging to that of a human — instead, you found only paw prints leading away.