The wind was blowing fiercer and colder than ever before now, and the dense foliage that had sprung up during Autumn seemed to tell their time was near, as several had already shed their leaves, while others had been completely uprooted as if giving in to the fierce storm front that was drawing inevitably closer.
The tribe never wandered without direction. Though their campsites often varied slightly each seasonal rotation, they had developed an intricate knowledge of the lay of the land, and knew of several areas that had suitable spots to set up their makeshift village. It was one of these places that they were heading towards now: a large cliff similar to their preferred Summer camping spot, with a massive fissure that provided enough space for the tribe to camp, while also sheltering them from the harsh elements and creating choke points that aided in defending against any predators.
The cliff had just begun to crest into view when Konta heard a soft but sharp gasp cry out beside him. He turned just in time to catch Kontala, who had begun to crumple to the ground with a grimace on her face. With a great whoosh, a large amount of water poured out beneath her, and instantly Konta was shoved aside by most of the tribeswomen as they began to bustle worriedly around his mate. It only took a moment for him to realize what was happening, and he could feel the color drain from his face and a terrible knot twist in his stomach. His child was on its way, and it couldn't have picked a worse time to try and come into this world.
Murg saw the commotion, and though he kept a strong expression on his face, there was a slight furrowing in his brow that any seasoned hunter could tell was a sign of intense agitation on his grizzled face. He tapped Senga on the chest, motioning towards where Kontala lay. The young hunter nodded, and walked over to assist- Kontala would have to be carried until the tribe found a suitable place to settle.
Konta had already unfurled his tent, refashioning it with the poles into a slapdash stretcher, which he set on the ground next to his mate. Gingerly, he and Senga lifted Kontala and placed her on the tent hide before they each took the tent pole ends and hoisted her above the ground. The tribeswomen who had jumped to her aid were busy clawing through their pouches for various medicines and ointments, which they took turns coaxing her to ingest or adorn as the tribe started again towards the cliff face.
It was painfully slow going. Worse, the hormones and fluids Kontala was giving off in her current state attracted the unwanted attention of predators. The hunters were forced to fight off an attack from a Boallista- a large snake capable of firing itself from the trees like a high speed projectile- and then almost immediately afterwards from a small pack of Ravagers that had likely been migrating from whatever Weeping Willow they had been nesting in during Autumn. At one point a Filament Beetle appeared and hovered overhead, shining brilliantly as it tried to draw attention towards the tribe. Konta watched as Zanzu, just like he had seen before, lunged into the trees and sprung into the air at an incredible speed. The Head Hunter caught the insect in a thick wrap before plunging back to the ground and landing without the slightest injury and pocketing the creature.
The tribe managed to make it to the edge of the giant rock without suffering any great damage, but Konta knew that it would take another day of travel before the tribe could reach the hollow in the cliff face where they would've camped before. Under other circumstances they could camp near the cliff's edge for the night and make for the fissure in the morning, but Kontala's birthing complicated things far worse. A woman having a child in the tribe had to be handled with incredible delicacy, and that meant that Kontala and her baby could not be moved for several months' time. She would start giving birth before morning came, which meant that they would be unable to move the village until the tribeswomen, who oversaw the birthing and weaning process of the infant, gave it the okay. They would have to set up camp where they were for the season.
The women wasted no time in erecting a large tent and ushering Konta and Senga to place Kontala inside it. No sooner had they placed her on the ground, the two hunters were shoved outside without another glance. Senga hurried off to help set up the rest of the village, but Konta stood in front of the tent with a jumble of emotions floating inside of him.
He knew the procedures for a new life being born: the woman would give birth in the tent, and both she and the baby would stay in there under constant supervision of most of the other tribeswomen. He had no idea why this was done, only that it was a necessity and that it was a great danger to the whole tribe to disturb the process in any way. Every precaution would have to be taken to protect the tent until his Kontala was permitted to leave by the other tribeswomen.
Grima, the mother of the small girl who Konta helped save last Summer, stepped out from the tent and began pouring a pungent, translucent fluid that Konta recognized as Formaldehydra blood around the tent. The tribe usually used Desert Squunck musk as a deterrent to predators, but they had used the last of it up earlier in the year. Fortunately, the strong scent of Formaldehydra blood would be a passable substitute, and the tribe had taken plenty with them when they left their last encampment.
Konta felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to find Zanzu handing him a large gourd full of liquid. Popping the top off and taking a slight sniff told him it was another container of Formaldehydra blood, and Zanzu motioned for him to follow. Konta assumed they were to set up an odor barrier around the outskirts of the village, judging from the similarly full gourd Zanzu still held under his arm.
For such a barrier to be effective, it had to encompass the village in such a way that their tents would not be visible from the edge of the ring, which normally was aided by the help of rocky outcroppings or vegetation surrounding their camp. With the precarious location of their current campsite, however, the ring would have to be much wider, to discourage predators long before they got within range of the camp.
Zanzu and Konta walked along the edge of the mountain they had camped next to until they could no longer see any sign of their camp, and began the slow process of creating their invisible barrier. Konta took the first shift, carefully emptying his container and making sure to not pour an excessive amount of the foul liquid as he strode out in his best estimation of a circle around the village. He got a good distance out before his gourd was empty, at which point Zanzu took up the task, employing the same care that Konta had been taking.
By the time both their flasks had been emptied, the light had begun to fade from the sky, and fat snowflakes had already begun to descend from the sky. Though the winds had lightened slightly, there was still a biting chill in the air, and Konta knew that it would grow far worse once the Sun had completely set. Even though they had only covered about half the distance needed to completely encircle the camp, the two hunters had met up with Bren and Grim, who had been performing the same work from the other side of the village. Their combined efforts had effectively covered all the ground they needed, and so the four hunters prepared to return to the camp and set themselves up for the night.
It was as Konta began to turn to head towards the camp that Bren caught his shoulder and forcefully turned him towards the open plains that lay in the other direction. Something was moving out there, an erratic movement that was undeniably some creature wandering around, making its way unsteadily towards their location.
The snow had been falling long enough to pile up a fair amount, and the hunters all crouched and buried themselves in it the best they could. It was almost unbearably cold and uncomfortable, but it was also the only effective way to hide when no cover was available. Konta watched closely as the unknown beast crept closer, sometimes staggering off a slightly different direction, but never straying from moving in their general direction.
Even in the dimming light, Konta was finally able to make out the shape as it lumbered ever closer. Its four limbs padded unevenly but incessantly as the beast dragged itself along, its sheer white fur making it difficult to see through the snow flurry that continued to fall. Three large lupine heads lolled at its forefront, bla
ckened tongues drooping lazily from all of its maws, which were hanging open to reveal three sets of razor sharp fangs. Konta fidgeted uncomfortably, realizing that their camp was being approached by a Zero Celberus.
This particular beast was a pure native of Winter, much like Snow Gremlins or the Razorback Mammoth. While other beasts were sometimes found by the tribe in various states during multiple seasons, including Fruit Bats or Kogyu Cows, native creatures only appeared during their respective seasons, and they were assumed to migrate to other climates that better suited them as the years occurred. The Zero Celberus was just such a creature, and one of the many reasons that Winter was so dangerous for the tribe. Only the hardiest of beasts had adapted to living in the relentless freezing temperatures, and these beasts wouldn't hesitate in the slightest to rip the village apart in their never ending quest for food, scarce as it was in the tundra of Winter.
There was something off about the Celberus that now approached, however. Its movement was erratic, as it several times stumbled and narrowly avoided falling over altogether. Even though its path was undeniably heading towards the camp, there was little method to its movement, as it several times strayed off to the side before returning to its regular path. Undoubtedly it had picked up the scent they had left behind in their trek, especially with Kontala in tow, but such a beast would in that case move with care and intent purpose, not the strange staggering gait it now showed. What's more, each head was letting out a soft whimper or growl, something that no predator on the hunt would ever do if they intended to hide their presence. As Konta took careful observation of the Celberus, he noticed that there was a white film around its three mouths that was unnoticeable until now, seeing as how it blended with the creature's fur. This Zero Celberus was terribly sick, and even worse, it could communicate this disease with a single bite. If it managed to get to the village, even in its weakened state it could potentially injure an untold number of tribesmen and women. At this point, it wasn't clear if it would be deterred by the barrier, but Konta knew they couldn't take the risk that it would breach.
Attacking a Zero Celberus under normal circumstances was risky enough: their strange physiology had adapted so that their heads held no brain. Instead, all their vital organs were cushioned well within the depths of their body, likely to help them keep warm in the brutally low temperatures. Because of this feature, the three heads were like complex limbs, though they still functioned as the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth for the central body. Cutting off one head had about as much effect as cutting off a human's hand, so the only effective way the tribe knew to incapacitate one was to sever all three heads. Though this wouldn't kill the creature, it would effectively remove its ability to see, hear, or smell its foe, at which point they could attempt to strike its vitals; the vicious tenacity of the Celberus would make it almost suicidal to try and fatally wound it while even one head still remained.
Compounding the standard danger of the beast was its illness, which made receiving even a small injury from it a fatal proposition. The four hunters would have to coordinate perfectly to strike it quickly and decisively, taking off its heads before it had a chance to fight back.
The hunters looked at one another, trying to figure out an order of attack that would be most productive. Grim tapped himself on the head, touching the edge of his pelt made from a sea creature Konta knew as the Cnidanglia, a gelatinous bell-shaped creature. Its dried body was so translucent that it was almost invisible as it sat on Grim's shoulders, but Konta also knew that what lay concealed beneath the cowl was their best bet for stopping the beast long enough to allow the others to strike.
With a simple nod of acknowledgment from the other three, Grim waited until the creature had wandered almost uncomfortably close to their position. They had hidden themselves close to where their odorous barrier had been set up, and by good fortune the Celberus stopped at the edge of the ring and visibly staggered as its delicate noses were assaulted by the overpowering smell. Without waiting to see if it would continue on or not, Grim erupted from his hiding place. As he did, a countless number of long, thin strings trailed off from the folds of his pelt: the tentacles of the Cnidanglia. The Celberus let out a snarl of surprise as Grim laced the fine threads all around the beast, entangling it effectively. It tried to turn and snap, but the hindrance of the dozens of roping tentacles slowed it down enough to give Konta and Bren time to lunge and spear two of the heads to the ground before it could react to the arrival of new enemies.
As the creature tried to get its bearings in its disease-addled state, Grim quickly regrouped his strings and securely tied the muzzle of the last head closed. The creature struggled against its captors, who had to fight with every last ounce of their power to keep the Celberus pinned down, even as sick as it was. Fortunately, they didn't have to hold it for long. Zanzu emerged from hiding with his spear in one hand, and in the other a great heavy blade hewn from solid obsidian, its edge known well amongst the tribe for how wickedly sharp it was.
As always, Zanzu's efficiency was unparalleled. He drove his spear through the head Grim had tied down so the latter could free his pelt up before the Head Hunter cleaved the great obsidian blade through all three heads in a single swing. Liberated from the body, they slid down the spits they were still affixed to, eyes rolling around madly in the last throes of death. The body, however, was still very much alive, and with nothing pinning it down it began to lunge around wildly. Without a single head, the creature was unable to keep track of where it was or guide itself in any capacity. Konta was curious how it hadn't bled to death with such serious wound. For that matter, there was barely a drop of blood staining the ground.
Though the creature continued to thrash, Grim had left one of his pelt strings attached to the ankle of the beast. With a single deft tug, he pulled its leg out from underneath it, causing the headless Celberus to topple to the ground. It seemed to try and right itself, and then appeared to finally understand the futility of its situation and simply lay still, undoubtedly exhausted from illness and exertion. Konta approached it with his fellow hunters cautiously, noticing that the stumps where its heads once were had iced over, preventing the wounds from bleeding. He knew that such things could happen in such cold climates, but also knew that blood froze much slower than water did; something about the Zero Celberus' blood caused it to freeze unnaturally quickly, a trait that Konta found most confusing in a creature that lived only in cold climates.
With Grim using his pelt to once again securely tie up the creature, despite its lack of resistance, Bren proceeded to listen closely to the creature's torso, evidently looking for where its vital organs were kept. Though Zanzu was the greatest amongst the hunters overall, Bren had been a hunter for over twice as long as Zanzu, and was more versed in the anatomy of beasts than any other. It only took a short time for him to come to rest on one spot, pausing there for just a moment before nodding in affirmation. He took his Everlasting Redwood spear, and drove it through this singular spot. At once the creature convulsed in pain, unable to let out a cry of anguish, but this suffering only lasted briefly as it fell limp, without so much as a twitch.
It was a complete victory over the creature, but as the four hunters turned to head back to camp there was a decidedly bittersweet tang to it that Konta at the least felt. It was certainly necessary to kill the beast before it had a chance to come in contact with the villagers, but there was no use for the meat of a creature that was so far gone with disease. Its pelt was equally useless for the same reasons, a terrible shame considering the cold the tribe would be suffering through for the next several months. They had fought and killed a terribly dangerous beast, but without any of the rewards that naturally came with it. All they could do was leave the corpse there, hoping that perhaps other creatures would be wary of coming so close to something that reeked of disease, and thus steer further clear of the village.
The return to the village was unceremonious, with the villagers all bustling about to try and make decen
t living accommodations for the unbearable freezing temperatures they were to experience later that night. Zanzu slunk to the chief's tent, likely to inform him of the kill they made so Murg could warn the scouts to steer clear. Bren retired to his own tent, as he needed more rest than the average hunter at his age; on the other hand, the youthful Grim had already begun helping other tribesmen erect their tents.
Konta knew he could go to sleep now if he wanted, and he was fully ready to do so, mentally and physically exhausted as he was from a day of rushing around. Unfortunately, his tent was still inside the tepee where his wife had been taken when she went into labor. There was no chance that they would move Kontala to get the tent out underneath her, and Konta knew that he wouldn't want the tent now anyways- it would be far too pungent and attract predators. More likely than not, it would be destroyed when the birthing process was done.
Still, he found himself standing just outside the birthing tent, watching intently. The tribeswomen who were in there helping Kontala give birth wouldn't be coming out any time soon, and Konta wouldn't be able to get any information from them until they were done, to say nothing of going in to visit his wife and newborn.
Had the child been born yet? What did he or she look like? How was Kontala's condition? Konta knew that women sometimes died in childbirth, a thought that sent his stomach reeling. For the next several months he would be in the complete dark, though there was cold comfort in knowing that as long as the child was alive, that tent would stay up until they were done.
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