At first glance, it appeared that several large snowflakes had been trapped inside the ice, but as Zanzu lifted a particularly large chunk with his massive hand and brought it close for both of them to see, it dawned on Konta that the snowflakes were, in fact, small bat-like creatures. The more Konta stared at these strange, tiny beasts, the more he started to understand the seemingly impossible mysteries that had surrounded the Snow Gremlin until now: a colony of tiny flying creatures with white fur would easily be able to hide in a snowstorm, striking at unsuspecting prey individually with their tiny fangs. The way Konta's wound was still bleeding slightly made him suspect that whatever venom was in its fangs was not only designed to slow down potential prey, but to keep injuries from clotting so it was easier for the creatures to feed.
The question Konta still held onto was why these small creatures would come together to create the illusion of being some large monster, as they had earlier? Was it some sort of mechanism to try and scare away potential predators? He knew of some animals that would swell up when they sensed danger in order to intimidate possible enemies, but doing so in such an odd manner as the Snow Gremlin did was something he had never seen before.
The next several hours were mostly dedicated to treating the injured, since there had been no real damage to the encampment itself. Konta was grateful to notice that after the initial heavy dizzy spell, he recovered from the poison's effect on his own rather quickly. The other tribesmen who had been attacked had lost much more blood than Konta, and required extensive rest in the medical tent, but it didn't look like anyone was in danger of dying.
Never before had the tribe encountered the Snow Gremlin and fended it off without casualties, and it was all thanks to the quick action of Jaka. Normally a feast would be had in celebration of such an achievement, but Murg seemed opposed to the idea, so Jaka was simply given a night of reprieve from his duties while the other villagers went about their business. Konta could understand where the chief was coming from. No matter how lucky they got this time, the tribe could hardly risk lowering their guard while Winter continued to rage on. The festivities could wait until another time.
As Konta sat at the outskirts of the village, an ever vigilant eye on the snow covered plains that stretched out beyond him, he marveled at what creatures as small as Snow Gremlins could accomplish because of their numbers. In a way, it was uncannily close to what his tribe did on a daily basis: working together to achieve things that they couldn't do alone. It was a strange sort of comfort to know that in the world they fought against every day, his people weren't the only ones who had to band together to survive.
The Newborn
Konta found it hard to believe that Winter was drawing to an end, after all the dangerous situations and stressful nights he had endured during the season. He had begun to believe that he would never live to see the end of the stark white landscape, the bone-chilling days passing by at a glacial pace, or the omnipresent threat of attack that had more than once come to fruition. Yet, reality began to sink in more firmly as Murg started his usual end-of-season march around the encampment and signal for families to pack up their belongings, only leaving the essential structures like the medical tent and the communal gazebo still standing; those could be quickly disassembled by the tribe and taken on short notice.
Having no tent of his own to deconstruct, Konta busied himself with helping the other families prepare for the migration they were about to undertake when he wasn't on guard duty. The days had grown mild to the point where he didn't need to wear his thick coverings anymore except in the dead of night, and he relished the feeling of not being weighed down all the time by the clothing as he effortlessly broke down one tepee after the other to try and take his mind off the matter pressing endlessly at the back of his mind.
Even though he would soon be going to sleep to prepare for his last night of watch duty at this settlement, Konta had no qualms about helping as many of his tribesmen get ready as possible. Truth be told, he was ready to do anything in his power to expedite their journey from their desolate campsite, even if it meant losing out on some much deserved, and needed, sleep. He could feel the eyes of the villagers following him, perhaps amused or in awe, as he moved swiftly from one structure to the next, shrugging off any sign of gratitude lest he allow himself to get distracted. He only stopped when, as he was breaking down Grim and Grima's tent, he felt two sharp taps on his shoulder. Slightly irritated at the interruption of work, he turned-
-and ran straight into the open arms of Kontala.
It took almost a full minute for Konta to recover from the shock of what was happening. Here was his mate, the one person he had longed to see after all these months of hardship and fatigue, embracing him fully with her face buried in his chest. When he was finally sure that he wasn't dreaming, Konta flung his shaking arms around Kontala with an exuberance that would've been unbecoming of most hunters. He had never been a hunter to worry about prim and procedure when it came to these intimate actions, though, and could care less what the others thought as he hugged her so tightly that a few moments later he feared he might have hurt her. Before he realized it, though, she had tightened her embrace with a strength Konta didn't know she possessed.
As he was savoring a bliss he hadn't felt in ages, he felt another two quick taps on the shoulder. It was an odd sight to behold as he attempted to turn and address the newcomer without loosening his hold on Kontala, partially dragging her off her feet in the process. In embarrassment he quickly loosened his hold, almost forgetting that someone else had been trying to get his attention. Only now did Konta realize that it was Grima, who had been midwifing for Kontala during her birthing. Now an icy shock washed over Konta as he noticed a bundle of cloth that Grima was extending towards him.
His hands trembled uncontrollably as he took the parcel from the tribeswoman, who carefully adjusted his arms so he was properly supporting the right places. From the small opening in the wraps, a tiny face poked out, its eyes closed as it slept in peace. Konta marveled at how tiny and light the baby was, that something so small and precious could ever possibly grow to be a…
…With as little rustling as he could manage, Konta unfolded the blankets quickly and took a peek at his baby. A small fire of excitement burst to life inside him: he had his boy.
The other hunters silently laughed, and it took a moment for Konta to realize that he had been grinning at his discovery. He could feel his face flushing as he hurriedly bundled his boy back up and passed him gingerly to Kontala. His humiliation was only matched by the intense joy that coursed through him. His worries had been alleviated, and he finally had the family he had been dreaming about. No amount of embarrassment could possibly dampen his spirits at this moment.
He bustled off to work again, a new energy in his step, but it was only a couple hours later that Murg approached him and removed his pelt. Konta had been feeling tired, but he didn't think it showed that much. Murg's motives, however, were made more apparent when he placed a hand on his back and led him to the gazebo where Kontala was now sitting and nursing their son. Konta thought he saw the vestiges of a smile behind Murg's grizzled beard before the old chief left to continue attending to the preparations, leaving him with his mate and newborn child.
Now that he stood there, Kontala looking up at him with a soft smile and his boy suckling happily away, new worries and concerns began to bubble to the surface of his mind. His baby was completely defenseless against the threats of the world around him, and Kontala would be devoting all of her time and energy for many seasons to come in order to help their child grow into a strong and capable hunter. Would he be able to protect them both? This last Winter had been the most brutal of any he had lived through before, and there was no reason to believe that they couldn't get worse from here. Was he strong enough to see them through the hardships that lay ahead? Would he be forced to suffer as Bobo had just a few seasons ago, and try to cope with the loss of his offspring?
Despite his tho
ughts, he knew enough by now to not let his fears cross his face, lest he worry Kontala. Instead he lowered himself onto the rug beside the fire where she rested, gently putting one arm around her and gingerly resting his free hand on his son. Of course he knew the answers to these questions already. He had been struggling for his life, and for the lives of his tribe, for as long as he could remember. Things were no different now than they were before. He would fight on, to the bitter end if need be, to protect himself and everything that was important to him. As if they could sense his unease, Kontala leaned against him at that moment and planted the gentlest of kisses on his cheek, just as Konta's son opened his eyes and looked at his father. It was all the assurance Konta needed that his struggle was worth any amount of suffering down the road.
Looking into his boy's eyes, Konta realized with a start that he had yet to think of a name for him. It took little time for him to come up with one, however. If he was Konta, and his wife was Kontala, then this boy of his would be Kontaren, the babe who would one day succeed his father and walk amongst his tribesmen as a fierce warrior. Just the thought of it filled him with even more passion and determination to see the man his son would one day grow to be.
Konta spent the rest of the day alternating between menial tasks and spending time with his family, finally retreating to one of the few remaining tents to take a nap as the day was winding down. Though he had been given a day of rest, it was his turn for night watch, and regardless of a pardon from Murg he wasn't about to abdicate such an important responsibility.
The darkness bore down heavily on him as he awoke, feeling unusually refreshed for a change. The soft sounds of breathing right next to him startled him slightly, but he calmed as his eyes adjusted to the dark and he realized it was only his Kontala and their Kontaren dozing blissfully nearby. He quickly slipped into his clothes and pelt, careful not to wake them as he placed a gentle hand on his mate's shoulder. As he reached for his weapons, he had a sudden urge to grab his hammer alongside his usual spear and knife. Even though it would only slow him down, tonight he decided it would be better to play it safe, and made sure the hefty club was strapped to his side before heading off into the cold night.
With Winter's end so close at hand, the tribe had felt bold enough to build a particularly large fire to warm the night patrol, a gesture that Konta was duly grateful for as he quickly washed and warmed himself before bundling up his cloaks. The last thing he wanted to feel on his last night of watch was cold and miserable.
Konta's patrol route took him right alongside the vast cliff face the tribe had huddled against. Even though it was a bit farther than he had to go, Konta marched until he met where the cliff descended and met with the ground, stationing himself there to make sure nothing slipped into the village in the dead of night.
Uneventful minutes passed into uneventful hours as he sat, ever vigilant with spear in one hand and knife in the other. By now the herds of Winter beasts would be migrating towards colder climates with the coming warmth of Spring, and the lack of any predatory sightings by his fellow scouts only further confirmed that the great dangers of the season had likely passed already.
The Moon had crossed most of the sky when Konta first felt a shiver. He hardly paid attention to it until he felt it again moments later. The weather was nowhere near as cold as it had been earlier in the season, and Konta was always careful to bundle up tightly to ward away the chill, so when a third shiver hit him he began to grow concerned. It wasn't until the fourth shiver that he realized it wasn't the cold causing it. Something was shaking the ground.
Immediately Konta leaped to the sloping ground that gave rise to the cliff and ran as quickly and silently as he could to get a better viewpoint. If an earthquake was happening, that was one thing, but if something else was causing these tremors…
Once safely hidden in a shrub several heads above ground level, he was able to take his time and look out towards the horizon. It didn't take long to see the shadow of a shape, silhouetted against the Moonlight, slowly lumbering across the vast plains. Konta's heart caught in his throat, and though he begged in his mind for the creature to change direction and be on its way, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what it was: a Razorback Mammoth, wandering straight towards the village.
The Razorback Mammoth
Konta's tribe had faced innumerable dangers in his lifetime alone, and obviously far more than those before his time. In this last season alone, they had managed to drive off a Zero Celberus, a herd of Blight Mares, and a swarm of Snow Gremlins- all of which Konta had seen inflict severe damage on their village in the past. Despite all these threats, though, none of those came close in comparison to what a lone Razorback Mammoth could do if left unchecked.
There was no one thing that made the Razorback the veritable king beast of Winter; rather, it was the combination of all its unique characteristics. It was the largest creature that hunted in Winter, and in fact one of the largest hunting creatures ever discovered by the tribe- only the Tortoasise and Sponge Whale were known to be larger. Unlike the latter, however, the Razorback was incredibly aggressive in nature with little to no provocation, attacking any living creature that strayed across its path. To complement their brute strength and deadly tusks, the Razorback also possessed the singular weapon that gave birth to Konta's namesake for them: a strange fur that froze and solidified in the cold to form long, blade-like tufts that ran across their backs, protecting them from any attacks made where they couldn't reach, and thus were most vulnerable.
It took Konta a few moments to regain composure once he spotted the beast stumbling across the plains, for it had been hammered into him from an early age to fear the Razorback Mammoth above almost any other creature known to the tribe. Fleeing from one was considered the best course of action, but as he stared at it, unable to look away in fear, he started noticing a few strange things about this particular Mammoth. For one thing, it was undeniably smaller than an adult Razorback; those tended to be twenty heads high, but this one couldn't have been more than ten. It had to be an adolescent. The fact that it was by itself was odd, too, since Razorbacks were pack animals and were rarely encountered by themselves, another point that added to their danger factor.
He immediately considered rushing back to his tribe and raising the alarm, but outrunning even a young Razorback would be difficult at best, and if it saw him in his flight he'd likely be run down before he even got within sight of the village. Instead he decided to stay in his shrubby hiding place and bide his time just a short while longer.
The beast lumbered closer still to his location, but Konta was still confident, if a little uneasy, that he was completely concealed. The waning Moon cast only a soft light over the plains, not nearly enough to reflect off his pelt and betray his location. Still, he knew there wasn't much time to figure out how to handle the situation.
Konta couldn't tell how long it would take the creature to reach the village at its current rate, but even at its lumbering pace it would likely make it there before Sunrise, and most of the hunters right now were either asleep or on patrol elsewhere: there would be little stopping the Razorback if it began a rampage.
It was at that instant that a wild decision popped into Konta's mind. He knew he couldn't outrace the beast, and by now it would certainly see him if he tried to bolt for the village. Even sticking to the slope where it would be slow to reach him, eventually the cliff would rise sharply and he'd be unable to descend safely. There was only one way at this point that Konta could prevent the Razorback Mammoth from wreaking complete havoc on his people.
He would have to face it alone.
The idea curdled his insides and made him retch, but there really wasn't any other choice. If he didn't stop the Razorback's progress now, it would stumble its way right into the camp, unless it made a radical change in direction soon- a risk that was too heavy to gamble on. Trying to run for the village would only lead it there faster, and he would be sighted anyways. He had to attempt to fight
it now, even if that prospect was basically suicide. He only hoped that in the struggle, he could make enough noise to alert the tribe and prepare them for what was headed their way.
Konta took a deep breath, trying to stave off the urge to vomit and calm the intense shaking that rocked his body. When he finally steadied himself as much as he could, he stood from the bush and shouted at the beast with all his might.
The roar of defiance he unleashed surprised even him, so unaccustomed was he to the sound of his own voice. The Mammoth was also apparently taken aback, for it let out a great trumpeting sound and reared back on its hind legs in defense from the sudden challenge. That, at least, gave Konta a slight feeling of satisfaction: let the beast warn anything in the area that it was near, he thought. No other predator would dare wander towards the cry of a Razorback Mammoth willingly, and it might have been loud enough in the dead of night to carry all the way to the village.
As the monster lowered back to all fours, shaking the earth beneath its feet, both of its beady eyes locked onto Konta. With another screeching trumpet, it began to stampede towards Konta. Still, the hunter held some high ground, and it would take some effort for the Mammoth to reach him.
He began to run the opposite direction of the village as fast as his legs would carry him. For a moment he thought of charging up the cliff side and possibly trying to coax the beast into falling off the edge, but more likely than not it would simply force him over the side. Instead, he opted to aggravate the creature as he ran, hoping its cries would be heard by his tribe. As he ran, he continually snatched rocks from the ground and lobbed them over his head at the Razorback. Though not nearly enough to injure the creature, it did let out several more trumpets of anger as it picked up speed.
Konta knew this plan wouldn't last long. Already the Mammoth had closed more than half the distance between them, and he had barely covered much ground. The ground shook more with each step closer the beast became, making running a doubly difficult effort. To compound all this, his body felt unnaturally heavy and ungainly, and now he cursed inward as he realized that the hammer hanging from his waist was only slowing him down. He was about to untie it and fling it aside when a deafening roar sounded right behind him.
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