Davis looked down the sights of his rifle. The old bolt action weapon from an age long forgotten. The wood stock was well maintained and black metal of the barrel and bolt had little dirt on it. Weapons like this were considered treasures. The ability to build them has been lost since the Schism many years ago. The deer picked its head up suddenly and looked about. Davis watched as he steadied his aim, readying the shot that would feed the village for a while. The deer had better senses than Davis, it knew something was wrong before he did. It took only a few seconds and the deer was moving at a high rate of speed toward Davis! Bringing his face up from the weapon, Davis looked on in confusion. The deer ran by him at a full sprint, and it was at that moment that Davis heard it.
The creature ripped through the trees beyond where the deer was. The trees fell and flew apart as if made of toothpicks. As Davis’s eyes adjusted to the chaos and destruction he saw it. The minor behemoth looked about in search of the meal that had just run away. The creature had the shape of a brown bear, but was the size of an elephant. Saliva dripped from its maw as a long three foot prehensile tongue slipped out to clean some of the wood debris from the fur around its face. Davis lowered the rifle slowly, and began to quietly back up. The rifle would do little to the creature, even if he nailed it in the eye. Davis had time, he need only get a little ways away. This variant had a horrible sense of hearing. But its eyes and sense of smell were fiercely good at finding prey. Davis turned and began to walk faster, if the wind shifted or he stepped out into a large gap in the forest. It would be all over for him, even the slowest of these creatures could run down a human at top speed.
Davis had managed to get a few hundred feet away when he heard the creature start moving in a different direction. He was happy the beast did not catch his scent or spot him. But a minor behemoth this close to the village was a bad sign.The village had a total of ten of these rifles, and one belt fed gun from the old world. The village Keeper called it an M60, said it was used in wars a long time ago. But even with all those weapons combined, the rounds would do little to the creature's dense hide. The keeper had always said if a variant of this nature ever showed. To come and get her right away, and not to even try and fight it. Davis was moving at a full sprint at this point. He knew these woods very well, he grew up hunting here. And at twenty three he was a skilled hunter and pathfinder.
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Davis’s form broke through the forest’s line and ran through the large open field that surrounded the village. It was a field of several hundred feet. Designed to give the village time to spot hostiles and defend themselves before the hostile could make it to the village. Davis ran at full speed, sweat dripped down into his eyes. The sting of it making him push harder, he had to warn the Keeper. He had entered the village and looked about. Trying desperately to catch his breath as he started calling out for the Keeper. One of the farmers carrying a bag of seeds stopped and looked at him, “Davis? What troubles you lad”? The farmer looked very confused at Davis’s sweaty and panicked face. Davis could barely get out the words, his breathing making it difficult.
“Keep….Keeper, where…. Where is she”? He asked while trying to catch his breath. The farmer turned and pointed to the village’s records building. Every village had one, they held the history of each village and as much history as could be found from before the Schism. Davis ran to the building and shoved the door open. He looked about in the dimly lit building. The oil lamps providing a flickering dance of light and shadow over the shelves of books and old papers. Sitting at the desk with multiple candles was the Keeper, her body hidden beneath a brown hooded robe that only Keepers wore.
