The frost-laden grass crunched beneath Thorkell’s boots as he led the hunting party out into the dark woods. The pale light of the early morning filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The silence was heavy, only broken by the occasional breaths of wind that rippled through the trees above. It felt as if the land itself was holding its breath, waiting to see how the journey would go.

  Thorkell glanced over his shoulder at the men that followed him–a mixture of Royal guard, hunters, and common folk, each hand picked for this exhibition. They moved in quiet formation, their eyes scanning the trees focused on one mission, to find the biggest beasts to slay and return home with. For most of the men on this journey it was a simple way to show loyalty to the crown, an event meant to distract the kingdom from the crowing unrest. But for Thorkell, it was something far bigger, and far more personal.

  This hunt was a way to prove his worth, to his father, to the court, and to the kingdom. He had led many small hunting parties, but nothing at this large of a scale. He wanted to prove his strength as a leader, he hoped that this could be the moment that proves once and for all he deserved a seat at his fathers side on the court. His father had become divided from him since they landed on this planet, always wrapped up in matters of the king, he worried the only way for him to earn his love was to sit by his side in those matters.

  As the wind shifted, it carried with it the distant scent of animal musk. Thorkell stopped, raising his fist in the air to signal the hunting party to a halt. The men obeyed, without hesitation, their eyes trained on him, waiting for their next move. It was these moments–when he was looked at for guidance– that Thorkell felt a flicker of hope that he could be the leader his father needed. The silence of the forest stretched as he scanned the dense trees ahead.

  One of the royal guards, a man named Erik, approached, his brows raised in excitement. “We’re close,” he whispered. “Tracks, just ahead. Could be a large stag.”

  Thorkell nodded, though his heart began beating faster. A successful hunt could mean more than just a distracted kingdom. It could be a symbol of strength, unity–even the fragile hope he had of gaining his fathers approval. He motioned for Erik to take the lead.

  As the group crept forward, Throkell’s mind drifted to the feast. His fathers words echoed through his head, “Curiosity and Hope are powerful motivators” Thorkell still was unsure of these words. The whispers of rebellion were louder now than ever, and no grand feast could silence them for long. People were angry–resentful of what his family had built on this world, still choosing to see them as invaders rather than saviors.

  As he watched the men of the hunting party pass him, he wondered how many of them still harbored doubts about him. How many of them saw him as nothing more than the king’s son, handed power without earning it? He clenched his jaw. He had to prove everyone wrong. He had to show that he was more than just Hamund’s Son–he was Throkell, a leader in his own right.

  A low grunt from ahead snapped him back to the present. Erik was crouching by a path of disturbed forestry, his finger tracing outlines of fresh tracks. “It’s close,” he whispered. “Biggest I have ever seen, just as we hoped.”

  Thorkell nodded, adrenaline coursing through him as he crouched beside the tracks. He peered into the dark woods, feeling the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders. The success of this hunt was about more than just the kill, it was a way to prove to these men he was with them in more than just title.

  Thorkell smelled the fresh odor of animal feces, their stag was close. He gestured to his hunting party to fan out and stay low. Thorkell paused for a second, the tracks before him were deep, but seemed erratic. Whatever they were tracking wasn't just large, it was running from something.

  A creeping sense of unease rolled down Throkells spine. He was unable to move from his frozen position as his instincts screamed at him, something wasn’t right. His fathers teachings rushed through his mind: “Trust the signs, not just what you want to see.”

  Erik, now several paces ahead, waved back, signaling for the group to move closer. But Thorkell hesitated. The silence around was unnatural. Even the roaring winds had stilled, and the usual sounds of the forest–the rustling of leaves, chirping of birds, and shifting of vermin across the forest bed–had vanished. He felt the weight of the situation weighing on him.

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  “We should be cautious.” Thorkell muttered to himself, but his voice was louder in his mind than it was aloud.

  Suddenly the bushes nearby began to rustle, his attention snapped to the bushes. His breath quickened as his eyes darted through the trees looking for a disturbance.

  Thorkell’s heart pounded in his chest as his fingers instinctively tightened around his bowstring, ready to notch an arrow at a moment's notice. His hunting party, Scattered and alert, waited patiently for his next command with short, anxious breaths.

  Then, without warning, a figure burst from the undergrowth of the forest. The creature was Huge, swift, and panicked. It wasn’t the stag they were tracking, but something even more startling. A wild boar, nearly the size of a horse, charged through the brush, eyes wide with terror, its tusks gleamed in the breaking light of the trees above. Its side was still bloody, most likely from its encounter with the stag.

  “Scatter!” Thorkell ordered, drawing his bow and releasing an arrow in one fell swoop. The arrow flew straight and true, embedding itself deep into the boar’s flank. But the beast barely slowed, charging toward Erik, who was the closest to the beast's path of destruction.

  Erik stumbled back, fumbling for his own bow, but there wasn’t time. The boar had closed the distance between them with great haste. The beast struck Erik’s legs sending him sprawling to the ground. The other hunter’s raised their bows, but Thorkell was already moving, notching another arrow and letting it fly. Thorkell saw the world in almost slow motion as he raced the arrow to be by Erik’s side. The arrow struck the boar’s neck, and the beast finally slowed, letting out a low, guttural growl before collapsing onto the forest floor.

  Thorkell offered his hand to Erik to assist him up, Erik, still stunned by what he had just witnessed, hesitated slightly before taking Thorkells hand. As they both stood on their feet, face to face, Erik declared “Thorkell the slayer of beasts.” Erik met eyes with Thorkell and said “As long as I breathe, you will no longer live in the shadow of the king.”

  Thorkell stood still for a moment, Erik’s word hit hard. There was a flicker of pride in his chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by the weight of responsibility. He knew that slaying a wild boar would not be enough to lif him from his fathers shadow–not in the eyes of the court, nor his father himself. Yet, for the first time in a long while, someone had acknowledged him not just as Hamund’s son, but as a leader in his own rite. The rest of the hunting party gathered around, their faces displayed a look of awe and relief.

  “Let’s keep moving!” Thorkell ordered, his voice was steadier now, shaking off the lingering tension from the encounter. “Our stag is still out there, although the boar will make for a great feast of it’s own, our hunt is not over yet.”

  The men nodded, but there was a shift in their stance. They followed him not because of his title, but because they had seen his skill in real time. Erik gave a respectful nod before adjusting his stance, ready to follow once more.

  As they pushed deeper into the forest, Thorkell’s mind drifted back to the strange behavior of the boar. Its panicked stance, the blood on its side–it wasn’t just a wild beast acting on instinct. Something else had driven it. Thorkell’s own instincts screamed at him, but he kept pushing forward. His resolve hardened. Whatever awaited them, he had to see it through.

  The forest grew denser, the trees crowding in as they moved along, and the light from the rising sun barely pierced the thick canopy above. Throkell stopped again, crouching near freshly pressed tracks–this time unmistakably the stag’s. They were even deeper than before, and blood spattered the ground beside them. Whatever had spooked the stag, it was close.

  The wind picked up, racing through the forest as if it too was running. It carried with it a foul odor that made Throkell's skin crawl. It wasn’t the scent of musk or death, but instead something unnatural.

  “Do you smell that?” One of the hunters whispered.

  Throkell nodded, his hand hovering over his bowstring. “Stay sharp,” he ordered, his voice low and cautious. “Something isn’t right.”

  Suddenly, a loud roar echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down the spines of the entire party. The sound was deep as it vibrated out, forcing many of the party to stumble as the earth beneath their feet shook. This wasn’t their stag that was certain.

  The men looked to Thorkell, their eyes wide with fear, but they held their ground trusting in his leadership. Thorkell readied his bow, his pulse quickening as the roar echoed through the forest once more.

  Thorkell had his party press forward slowly, each step was in line and slow, as not to spook the beast a head. Just as the approached an opening in the forest, Thorkell could hear something flying through the air towards them.

  “Get down!” Thorkell shouted, dropping to the ground like a rock.