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The Hunter walked down Yharnam’s streets. The sky was a sickly orange, blood red on the horizon. Night would soon fall. In the distance, he could hear strained caws. The crows had long since become corpulent, bloated from the meat and blood that flowed through Yharnam’s streets. The Hunter grumbled and tugged up his mask, thick and stitched together. He wouldn’t be taking it off tonight anyway. It kept the blood out.
He marched forward with purpose, boots on wet cobblestone. It had rained during the day, but not long enough to cleanse. Just so much as to spread the filth around, make it nice and slick. He’d need to be careful. The streets had emptied already. A lone boot caught his eye, the sole ripped away from the toe cap, discarded. Too small for its owners new size. The beasts were already about. He’d have to begin soon. His steps quickened. He clutched the pistol in his left hand and ran his right thumb about the handle of his cane. Not long now.
Even with his mask, he could smell the incense burning. They started early. Good for safety, bad for supply. The nights are always long and he felt this one would be longer still. Supplies were low all around. The incense kept the beasts away, but it would do folks no good if they ran out before the night was done. He slid up to the door and rapped a pattern, shave-and-a-hair-cut, against the door.
“Password,” a voice rasped from the other side.
The Hunter let out an exasperated sigh. “Andrew, it’s me.”
A pause. “Password,” the voice rasped again.
The Hunter tapped his foot impatiently. He tucked the pistol into his belt, gently rapping the cane against the door. “Andrew.”
“Password,” Andrew repeated.
The Hunter grumbled, clearing his throat. “Fine!” The Hunter tapped the cane to the ground and recited the password with the diction of a thespian. “Oh, fair maiden, why is it that you weep?”
A pair of bolts audibly slide as Andrew opened the door. Before the words ‘hurry’ had a chance to leave his lips, the Hunter slipped inside. Andrew slide the two bolts shut again. “You’ve gotta say the password, Thomas. Every time.”
The Hunter, Thomas, tapped his cane against the floor. He wished to scold him. Tell him there was no time. Thomas, instead, shut his eyes for a moment and let his thoughts cool. “Even if I am addled by blood, I’ll likely still remember the password, Andrew.”
“True,” he nodded, “But I doubt you’ll be able to say it as beautifully as you usually do.” Andrew smiled, the last Thomas would see this night. “Did you find her?”
“Yes.” Thomas tipped his tricorn hat, looking Andrew up and down. “She’s safe. She’s staying the night at the clinic.” Thomas briefly scanned the room. Andrew had stockpiled plenty of incense for the night. Good. “I met up with Carine not far from there. She’ll be walking the streets around the clinic tonight, keeping it clear of beasts. Apparently, there’s quite a lot of people there at the moment. Lots of injuries, but no one seems to have signs of the plague, thankfully.”
Andrew covered his face with both hands, hiding his enormous relief. He was young, a few years shy of 20. His concern was for his sweetheart, Joan. They both worked at a large book store. “How’s her leg?”
Thomas was briefly glad for his mask, to hide his grimace. He could lie, but knowing a harsh truth might be better than a night of uncertainty. Either way, he’d know soon. “Bad. Might lose it.” The Hunter ran his fingers across his belt, counting blood vials and bullets during the silence “Doctor is staying the night at the clinic to see if he can save it.”
Andrew sank into a chair, running a hand through his blonde locks. “It’s my fault. Those ladders are heavy, I should have secured it better...”
“Hey, no self-pity. She’s losing a leg at worst, not her life.” Thomas grumbled. He wasn’t exactly good at kind reassurance. Pragmatism tended to win the day among Hunters. “...that being said, it was an accident. She won’t blame you.”
Andrew didn’t look happy at that. Thomas grumbled.
“Listen,” Thomas began. “Read a book. Get some sleep. If it was earlier, I’d take you there myself, but it’s too late. Head over first thing in the morning. Stay with her. She’ll appreciate it... if she loses the leg, ask her to move in with you. She’ll need the support.”
Andrew blinked. “I... I couldn’t...”
“You act or you are acted upon, Andrew. You can, you should, you will.” Thomas grunted, spinning the cane around in his grip. He was restless. “I need to go.”
“The Hunt?” Andrew asked, as though he didn’t know the answer.
“The Hunt,” Thomas replied.
Andrew nodded. “...Thomas.”
Thomas had already made for the door again, but turned to look at Andrew.
“... You’re sure she’ll be safe, yes? At the clinic?” His voice quivered. It wasn’t what he wanted to ask, Thomas could tell, but it’s what came out.
“I trust Carine more than I trust myself, Andrew. She’s a Hunter’s Hunter. I pity any beast that finds her this night.” Thomas gave a nod. There was not a lie among his words.
Andrew nodded.
Thomas nodded back and slid the first deadbolt open. He reached for the second.
“...Do you have dreams, Thomas?” Andrew asked.
Thomas froze. “...Excuse me?”
“You know. Dreams. Something you ... want to do. Accomplish.” Andrew shrugged. “A dream?”
Thomas let out a soft laugh. “Oh.” He nodded. “I do indeed dream,” he said. “One day, I won’t anymore. Then, perhaps, I’ll be satisfied.”
Andrew nodded, thinking that he understood, though he did not. “Good luck out there.”
Thomas stuck his fist out to the side, giving a little shake, exuding confidence. “If I need to rely on luck, I’ll be dead before the moon is out.” He slid open the second bolt and walked out. The door shut behind him and he heard the twin bolts slide shut, followed by the loud click of a padlock.
He began to walk.
In the distance, The Hunter heard a howl.
He felt his blood begin to pump.
The Hunt was on.