Against All Instinct

by Joshua Buller

  Konta held his breath and threw himself as close to the ground as he could as his eyes darted around, looking for any sign of movement that would give the Wolf pack away. Sure enough, after just a few moments there came another piercing howl, this one much closer than before. Konta looked towards the sound to see the majestic form standing near the crest of a snowy hill. As the Wolf began to make its way down towards the Blight Mare carcass, though, Konta noticed that it wasn't as majestic as he initially thought. Its steps were strange and uneven, and its legs moved completely unnaturally, almost as if the beast was dangling on something…

  Now realization and relief crashed onto Konta, and he ventured raising his head and giving a short whistle. The White Wolf's head turned, the legs once again swinging strangely at the sudden move, and now there was no mistaken the dark color just underneath the Wolf's jowls; a human face. It was no true White Wolf, but rather Bren donning his pelt of the beast.

  At the signal, Bren stood tentatively and started towards the sound in a low crouching position, ready to drop down at the first sign of a potential threat. Konta still didn't dare stand, since his wraps, though light in color, still stood out much more than Bren's solid white pelt. Instead he crawled on his belly, doing his best to cover himself in snow as he went along. It was slow going, but considering that neither had planned on being out in the open right now, it was the best plan of action to avoid pulling attention to themselves, especially when by now predators might be picking up the scent of the freshly killed Blight Mare lying out in the open.

  Once the two met up, Bren started leading the way back towards camp, Konta being grateful to have a guide considering he had no idea how far he was from the village or what direction it was in. The pace was literally a maddening crawl for the most part, and darkness had already begun to encroach on the two before they crossed the Formaldehydra blood barrier that marked the outskirts of the village and felt safe enough to finish the journey on foot.

  While they made their way back, Konta wearily dusted the remaining snow from his shoulders and put his Obsidian Panther pelt back on, trying his best to fight the terrible chill running through his body. Some of the snow that had been piled on him had melted simply from his body heat, and had soaked through his wraps. The cold bit at him without remorse, and he was thankful when he could finally pick up his pace to try and get his blood flowing.

  To his surprise, Bren struck him around the head with an open hand as he put his cowl back on. It was the type of firm blow Konta often saw parents give their children when they did something dangerous and stupid, but the weariness and cold he had been fighting through all day made it hard to figure out what warranted such a rebuke. As if reading his mind, Bren jabbed at his pelt, then Konta's, then pantomimed as if he were a predator about to strike, ending his act by making a motion with his fingers like something with four legs running.

  As tired as he was, even he could figure out what Bren was trying to convey. If he had given his idea to run the Blight Mares off a bit more thought, he would've realized that, rather than riding the stallion out of the camp, he could have simply scared it off by doing what Bren had done with the Polaroar: use his pelt to make it run off. It would've likely had the same effect, without putting Konta in danger in the process. In hindsight, Konta realized how foolish and unnecessarily perilous his plan had been.

  And yet, even though Bren's expression was stern, he put his hand on Konta's head and gave him a reassuring pat. Regardless of how stupid the plan ended up being, in the end Konta had chased off the threat, and nobody had been hurt, so there was little reason to be completely angry at him.

  At least, that's what Konta thought until they finally made it back to camp, at which point it seemed every adult in the village took their turn of approaching him and striking him on the head just as Bren had done. He got the message fairly clearly: he wasn't to ever pull such an idiotic stunt again. When everyone had had their turn at rebuking him, though, nobody could hide the smiles plastered across their faces. Things could have gone much worse, and all things considered they had gotten off with hardly a scratch; the tepees and tents that had been knocked over in the stampede had already been erected again, and save for some hoof marks there was no permanent damage to anything.

  Konta immediately went to sleep at the first possible moment, having lost most of his usual sleeping time from the day's excursion. When he woke up later that night, ready for his shift at guard duty, he was surprised to find a veritable feast waiting for him at the mouth of Grim's tent, steam pouring off of it in defiance of the cold outside. It was far more than was usually rationed to hunters during Winter, since food had to be stringently conserved. Just the sight of it made Konta chuckle silently: between this gesture and the scolding, the knowledge that he was so valued by the tribe warmed him more than anything else.

  The Snow Gremlin

  There had never been a Winter that tested Konta's constitution more than this one. Every night that passed without incident only further stressed his nerves as he waited for the inevitable strike of a predator to shatter the peace, and every day was full of fitful sleep as he woke constantly at any small sound, fearful for any attack.

  The fact that nobody had left Kontala's birthing tent in weeks was a mixed blessing. No news was good news, but being kept in suspense during an already difficult time did no favors to Konta's state of mind. Sometimes, as he sat around idly on guard duty, he would watch the entrance with rapt attention, hoping to see any sign of his mate and their new child. The most he ever got was a quick glimpse of the tent flap opening, only to have one of the midwives either taking in food that was set out for them, or else placing out the used dishes to be collected. This would usually dishearten Konta, leaving him to turn sullenly back to his watch, but it was never long before his attention was drawn once more to where the fate of his family lay.

  It was in this manner that most of Winter ran on, as Konta kept watch over the encampment with most of his fellow hunters through the dark and freezing nights. On rare occasions he would be sent out to scout in close proximity to the camp, if only to see if any predators were on the approach, but nothing had ever come of these ventures, and so he would return to watch and wait once more.

  One particular night, the stoic hunter was greeted by a great snow flurry as he stepped out from Grim's tent to prepare for another shift of guard duty. Stormy weather wasn't always a given during Winter, as there were plenty of days where not a single snowflake would fall, but when they did come it meant higher tension for everyone keeping watch. While the blizzards did help conceal their poorly hidden village, the danger of beasts that could be hiding just out of sight in the flurries far outweighed that one small convenience. Unlike during Autumn, where the same problem persisted, they were nowhere near as sheltered as they had been under the Weeping Willow, and the creatures that prowled in Winter were of a different caliber of threat.

  The communal fire in the center of the village was being tended by a couple of the younger hunters, who were doing their best to keep it stoked with dry wood and clear the snow from the tarp overhead. Konta was grateful to see the large stone bowl that had been set over the top, filled with steaming water ready for use in cooking or bathing. He scooped up a handful, the heat blissful on his freezing hands, and rubbed it vigorously on his face to wash and wake up. He blinked the water out of his eyes, feeling the last vestiges of weariness slip away as he dried himself thoroughly next to the fire; walking out into a snowstorm while wet would be a foolish thing to do.

  He reached down for his spear, ready for yet another long night watch, when there came a yelping noise from a short distance away. Konta froze in shock for but a moment before bolting towards the sound, recognizing it as one of the tribesmen in pain.

  One of the young nameless hunters lay on the ground, blood slowly seeping from numerous wounds dotting his arms and legs and staining the snow-covered ground with splotches of red that stood out clearly even in the darkness. Sever
al of the tribesmen and women who had been within earshot were already trying to help the injured boy, who Konta could see was beginning to shudder. Looking closer, Konta noticed that the boy's wounds were small punctures in his skin, and alone would likely not be terribly dangerous. On the other hand, these tiny holes had been punched all over his exposed limbs. It appeared that the boy had just woken and had yet to cover himself for the weather.

  Before Konta could begin to process what to do next, there came another cry from elsewhere in the encampment. The villagers tending to the boy before them looked at each other in worry, but with a swift motion Konta signaled for them to stay put, and with that he took off to investigate the new disturbance.

  This time it was a tribeswoman who lay on the cold ground with her vital fluids blotting the area around her, whom Konta recognized as Bobo's mate, Bobono. He leaned in close to examine the wounds, and sure enough she bore the same markings as the young hunter he had just left behind. Her injuries were much lesser, only dotting the exposed portions of her face, neck, and arms as she had already wrapped up thickly to go about her duties. Still, Konta could tell the source of these wounds at a glance, and the recurring attack in such a short time only confirmed his fears.

  Now the villagers who had been asleep began to emerge from their tents with anxious looks on their face; the sound of a human crying out for any reason was more than enough to rouse even the soundest sleeper in the tribe. The sight of one of their own lying prone and stained with blood was enough to send those who hadn't already brought weapons with them scurrying to the tents to arm themselves.

  There was a flash of movement off in Konta's peripheral, and he turned sharply to see a small creature standing a short distance from him. Its body was oddly shaped, with bumps and bulges rising from its being with no apparent reason, and it was covered in fur the color of the snow that still whirled through the encampment. It stood teetering on two hind legs, with stubby forearms that stuck out of its sides as if it were trying to hold something up. Most disconcerting was its face, or rather its lack thereof, for there were no discernible eyes or mouth anywhere on the beast, though it emitted a series of high pitched chitters from somewhere on its body. Its appearance confirmed Konta's worst fears: the tribe was under attack by Snow Gremlins.

  Snow Gremlins were not a beast to be trifled with lightly. They only attacked during storms such as the one they were currently suffering, and could effortlessly vanish and hide in the howling flurries, waiting for an opportune time to strike. What was worse was that the tribe's conventional weapons were woefully inadequate for dealing with the Gremlins, as they would disappear into the storm before a hunter could get close enough to deliver a blow. There was much that the tribe didn't know about the Snow Gremlins, but there were two things they were certain of: they always attacked in large numbers, and only fire could definitively drive them away.

  Without waiting for the predator to make the first move, Konta dashed towards the communal fire to arm himself. The tribe would have to light as many torches as possible and set them around the camp, a task that would require a lot of coordination. Fortunately, Zanzu was already waiting at the fire with several branches, their tips doused in strong-burning oil from the Tulamp flower. The Head Hunter had placed several more in the fire, and began handing them silently to the other hunters who had caught wind of the threat and knew what had to be done.

  Before Konta could reach forward and take some torches for himself, another cry rang out not far from their location. He turned on reflex to see Senga lying on the ground and bleeding, a torch still burning next to him where he had dropped it. Konta took a few steps forward to try and help him, but at that moment a powerful gust kicked up and obscured Konta's vision. Though he only lost sight for a moment, he saw as the wind died down that a Snow Gremlin had crossed his path in that short interval. His grip tightened on the knife he had been holding, but knowing the weapon would be useless he forced himself to turn on his fellow hunter for a moment so he could snag a torch from the flames that still licked at the full basin. He turned and threw the torch at the beast, but it simply hit the ground with a dull thud. The Gremlin was already nowhere to be found.

  Several more shouts of pain floated out in the distance, and the hunters who had been gathering around the fire split up with torches in hand to tend to the situations as best they could. Konta hurried to Senga's side, but thankfully the young hunter's wounds were few and easy to cover using the wrappings he already was wearing. Once he was sure Senga was safe next to the fire with Zanzu, Konta took hold of the two torches that still lay flickering in the snow, and took off immediately for the one place he knew to be most vulnerable to attack: the birthing tent.

  The camp was in a frenzy, with people running every direction as they tried desperately to fend for themselves and their fellow tribesmen from the enemy that seemed to be able to ambush them from thin air. Several torches had already been set up around some of the tents, but he had to make sure that those in the birthing tent were secure before he took any other action at this point.

  Another gust shook past Konta when he suddenly felt two sharp, painful pricks on his shoulder where his cloak had slipped a bit in his hurry. He looked down, but snow had already covered where he felt the pain. He brushed the snow off so that he could get a better look at the wound, but the moment he did an intense pain shot through his arm starting at the shoulder. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, and now could plainly see the large puncture in his skin, where blood was already beginning to run down his arm. Konta had no time to waste tending to himself, so he simply tightened his cloak as best he could and forged himself forward.

  As he rounded a corner and the tent came into view, Konta was struck with a wave of dizziness. His eyes slid out of focus, and it took all his willpower to keep himself from toppling over on the spot. Was there some sort of poison in the creature's bite? This was the first time he had ever been injured by a Snow Gremlin, and he recalled no recordings of poison from the medical tomes they kept on hand to catalog the dangerous properties of the various creatures. Of course, few tribesmen who had been attacked by Snow Gremlins had survived before. They usually weren't attacked in their encampment by the creature, but rather when out in hunting parties.

  Regardless, he gritted his teeth and did his best to shrug off the effects as much as possible. Through sheer force of will, he was able to crawl towards the birthing tent. One of the midwives had opened the tent flap ever so slightly and was peeking out to see if anything was on its way towards their location, but Konta waved her back in. She caught one glimpse of the torches and seemed to understand the situation, nodding curtly before pulling the tent flap closed as tightly as she could. Konta shoved both the torches into the ground, one on either side of the tent opening, and only stayed long enough to make sure they wouldn't be blown over before starting back towards the bonfire.

  Trying to fight back the nausea and the whirling sensation was much harder than he had imagined it would be, especially while trying to keep his eye open for the Gremlins. A couple times he caught sight of one, but a gust of wind would pick up and it'd be gone again with the flurry.

  Konta had just turned a corner and caught sight of the bonfire when he could no longer support his own weight, and fell to his side, right on the injured shoulder. He felt no pain from landing on his wound, but relief was the farthest thing from his mind. His whole body had gone numb. One of the villagers rushed to his side, but his vision swam too much to make out who it was.

  What he did see was something that tied a knot in his stomach. Another gale had swept through the camp, and now standing in the center of the village near the bonfire was the largest Snow Gremlin he had ever seen. Though he couldn't make out any details, he didn't have to see clearly to tell it had to be at least twenty heads high, its arms stuck out awkwardly as it simply swayed in place. Many of the villagers had congregated in the village center to try and protect each other, and they all now froze in terror at
the sight of this great behemoth that towered over them all. Konta could only stare weakly at the Gremlin and wait for whatever it had in store for them.

  Out of the corner of his eye, a sudden movement near the fire caught his attention. Blinking rapidly, he managed to focus his sight enough to see that a young hunter he knew as Jaka had rushed to the stone basin still sitting on the fire, full of near boiling water. Zanzu, who had been standing nearby, was so shocked by the young man's actions that he had no time to react as the hunter, grimacing in pain as the hot stone burned his arms, flung the steaming contents at the giant creature.

  What happened next was too bizarre for Konta to comprehend completely. The creature began screeching wildly as the water made contact, steam pouring from its body- that was expected. What wasn't expected was the creature breaking into large frozen chunks where the water touched it, while the rest of its body seemed to disintegrate into a snowstorm that quickly blew away while continuing to chitter.

  The whole of the village stared on in confusion at the strange turn of events, and it ended up being Konta who made the first move as he tried to force himself to his feet so he could examine the situation better. The poison was still incapacitating him too much to move on his own, but Zanzu seemed to understand what he was attempting. In a few strides he was able to close the distance, hoist Konta up, and help him over to where the icy blocks that were once the Snow Gremlin now sat.