In the eight years that followed after a gogannoth razed Toza village, scholars and hunters alike remained puzzled as to why it had migrated so far south. Many believed it was due to the decline in prey in the expansive deserts of Ag, its native habitat. Others were of the opinion that it had simply gotten lost— a hypothesis that couldn't be more wrong.

  Things only became worse. Behemoths were popping up in parts of the continent they shouldn't belong in. Villages and outposts unequipped to handle foreign beasts fell to a similar fate as Toza.

  The Hunter's Association, an organization dedicated to the control of the behemoth population across the lands, were overwhelmed and understaffed by the increase in activity.

  Today, like any other day, Korin was working in the canteen at outpost Valdwyn. He stirred the giant pot absentmindedly while daydreaming of finally getting to slay a behemoth. His reverie, however, was interrupted by a group of young hunters returning from a pursuit.

  "Man, that terasa was a bitch and a half!" Jonah, a haughty hunter as fiery as his hair, rubbed the back of his head as he entered.

  Obrick, who stood a head taller than the others, dragged his feet on the way in from sheer exhaustion. "That's why we're supposed to lay a trap, not give chase to a roadrunner behemoth."

  Among the group of four hunters were also Jenna, who waved at Korin, and Em, who appeared bothered by something on her throat.

  "Give it a rest." Jonah waved a dismissive hand. "We eventually caught up to it, didn't we? I also studied up the night before and knew it couldn't run for too long."

  They took a seat at the round counter which surrounded the cooking stations, talking up a storm about their most recent hunt, sharing aspirations of rising through the ranks, other behemoths to hunt tomorrow, and what to eat. Conversations that Korin wanted to be a part of, not an eavesdropper to.

  "Hey, Korin! Whip me up one of those aptorus stew, would ya? I'm starving," Jonah shouted despite being only a few meters away.

  "Make that two, with extra aptorus meat. Actually, just give me a whole leg if you can," Obrick said, laying his head on the table.

  "Em, Jenna? Same for you two?" Korin asked, wiping his hands clean on a towel.

  "Nothing for me, Korin. I'll eat later." Jenna smiled.

  Em, on the other hand, put a hand to the base of her neck and quietly declined. Korin noticed that her throat was slightly red and swollen. It looked to be a bee sting which must have happened while they were in mid-pursuit.

  A loud thud drew Korin's eyes to one of the cooking furnaces. Grant, with a hand pressed to the back of his head, crawled out from the fuel compartment where they threw firewood and coals into. He locked the hatch close and cursed under his breath.

  "Damn thing's busted. Must've been a steeljaw, those fucking rats. Chewed through the furnace. Well, this baby's out of commission. We're down to three cooking stations now," Grant groaned.

  As a fellow outpost cook, Korin sympathized. Grant was a young man whose skin was as dark as the coals that fueled the furnaces. Like the coals in the furnace, he served as an important part to the function of the outpost. He was also one of the best damn cooks to ever grace this world.

  "I'll miss her, too, buddy." Korin placed a consoling hand on Grant's shoulder.

  "Like losing a hunter, man. It always hurts." Grant sobbed.

  It didn't take long for them to whip up something for Jonah's party to eat. Because the kitchens were in the open and at the center of the canteen, Korin was able to listen in on the hunters' conversations while cooking. Their stories and retelling of past pursuits were how he lived vicariously through them.

  Before the hunting party began their meal, they clasped their hands together in a ring and prayed to Reia, Goddess of the Hunt. Every member of the Hunter's Association performed this tradition before eating not as thanks, but as a plea for forgiveness for taking from the cycle. Korin often wondered if the voice he had heard as a child was Reia herself. He wished to be a part of their circle rather than behind a furnace.

  Being a cook was far from what Korin wanted. What he truly desired was to hunt— with Jenna. Wasting away, serving other hunters as they find glory wasn't his idea of a good life. He didn't choose to join the Hunter's Association to be a glorified cook.

  "Mmmm!" Jonah squealed with delight after stuffing his mouth full of aptorus stew. "Korin, you and Grant make the best chow on this side of Marsantea. Don't you guys dare leave us for another outpost!"

  "You wanna show your gratitude? Bring some meat back with you next time you're on a hunt. We're negative because gluttons like you eat more than you put in!" Grant fired back.

  Ignoring the two bicker, Korin delivered water to Jenna and hot soup to Em. The latter stared dumbfoundedly at what he had given her.

  Korin pointed to his own throat where Em had minor swelling. "Bee sting, right? I made the soup with kenter roots and bear bile that should help with the inflammation. It'll go down easy, I promise you."

  The girl blushed and bowed in thanks.

  "Color me impressed, Korin. I didn't know you were skilled in medicine." Jenna leaned forward with a hand underneath her chin.

  "Eight years of cooking and you start to get to know the ingredients. It's nothing special, not like what you guys do anyway." Korin grimaced and cast a sidelong glance at each hunter's weapon against the table.

  Each of them were custom-made by Thane, the best weaver in the outpost. Jenna sported a repeater crossbow. Jonah and Obrick wielded swords crafted from the bones of a behemoth. Em trained in spearmanship, and her weapon was currently in the process of being made. Supposedly, today was the day it was to be completed.

  "I've been thinking you'd make a good hunter," Obrick began, sloppily wiping his mouth with an arm. "Hunting, like cooking, is learning what you're working with and execut— nnngh!"

  Something happened underneath the table and Jenna glared at Obrick, who became tight-lipped and was massaging his leg.

  "We should drop by Thane's workshop. I'm sure Em's eager to pick up her spear," Jenna said.

  The group thanked Korin for the meal and departed quickly. If only he could go with them and pick up his own weapon, too. Their copper-colored sashes embroidered with the image of a gryphon signified their ranks amongst the others. Seeing them sway, worn differently by each member, left him in envy.

  "It's not fair." Korin dropped into the seat where Jenna was just sitting.

  "I'm with Obrick." Grant sat down across from him. "You never looked the cook type. Don't get me wrong. Having you around takes a load off my shoulders. But the way you weave around the kitchen and handle cleavers like you're on the prowl? I pegged you for a natural-born hunter."

  "Yeah, well… I got the commander to thank for that." He sighed.

  "Thank me for what, Korin?"

  The hoarse rumble of a voice snapped Obrick and Korin to their feet.

  "Oh, Commander Winston! What's up? I think one of the furnaces is broken, so I'll go check it out," Grant said, slinking away while he still had the chance.

  Commander of Outpost Valdwyn, Winston Cask, towered before Korin. The bear of a man wore a leather tunic over his bristling muscles, with the red fur mantle of a behemoth around his shoulders, and on his waist was an ivory sash, the highest rank possible in the Hunter's Association.

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  Nothing in the commander's stalwart posture showed any signs of being caught off-guard, within or outside of the outpost. He wasn't even in his full armor, supposedly crafted from a titanic behemoth and which Korin only briefly glimpsed years ago, to look enormous.

  "Geez, Winston. You're in the outpost, no need to skulk around like you're hunting." Korin clutched his beating heart.

  "Hah! Been in this business for so long, it comes naturally. Besides, I love getting a good look at your scared shitless expressions!" Winston guffawed so heartily that it caused the ground to vibrate.

  Despite being so large, Winston could sneak up on a mirasaul and skin it alive before the behemoth realized what happened. This jovial yet steadfast mountain was the very one who stood in Korin's way in becoming a hunter.

  "Commander Winston," Korin began, facing him with the conviction he had given every time before. "Please, allow me to become a hunter!"

  "So, that's what you're troubled about? My answer is the same as always— no." Winston folded thick arms over his barrelled chest.

  Another refusal. Not even a consideration. Just a flat out no.

  "Why not?" Korin asked. "Sure I might be shorter than average, but I'm at peak physical form for my age. The association needs more hunters. You know that!"

  "You're performing a vital function here in the outpost already. Safe and sound where you belong, no need to risk your neck out there," Winston said.

  "It's about when I was almost killed by One-Eyed Gol, right? That was eight years ago, and my body's fully healed. Even the doctors find nothing wrong with me. Can you at least tell me why? I deserve to know!" he pleaded desperately.

  After being saved, Korin had spent almost half a year bedridden before he could even start walking again. Fortunately, those living out in the wilds tend to be built much sturdier than the city folks. Being a child at the time also made the healing process a lot smoother.

  Like any young, able-bodied person in this world, Korin should be a perfect candidate to become a hunter.

  Unfortunately, Winston didn't think so and turned his back to Korin for years.

  "Clean up the mess, kid. Night's coming and a hunters'll be returning on empty stomachs soon," Winston said on his way out of the canteen.

  "This isn't the end of it, you hear me?" Korin shouted to the commander's back. "I'm not giving up!"

  Much later in the evening, hunters and scholars eager to get their grub on filed into the canteen. Korin passed his apron to the night shift cooks and retired for the day.

  Down below in the tradeyard, the massive wooden gates, framed by the ribcage of a long dead behemoth, opened to allow a caravan through. Commander Winston was there to welcome fresh supplies from the city requisitioned months ago. If they were here, it meant Shae was also back.

  Outpost Valdwyn was built deep within the gargantuan jungles of Karacos, the furthest the Hunter's Association had ever gone. Much of it had been constructed with the trees around them, large behemoth bones, imported stones, and pretty much whatever builders could get their hands on out here. Having it buttressed against the side of a cliff provided a defensible position, and allowed hunters to begin pursuits on either the upper or lower level of the jungle via pulley lifts.

  Their purpose here was to investigate abnormal behemoth sightings and behavior, and ultimately stamp out the threat they posed to major civilizations beyond the Frosted Reach, or more particularly the city of Grand Bordeaux where the lords resided. The secondary objective was to restore balance by eliminating behemoths that didn't belong. Much like the golgannoth.

  So far, they have learned very little.

  If this continued, tragedies that befell Toza— like every villages since then— would only be the beginning.

  On the way back to the living quarters, Korin heard people talking from the suspended walkway above him. The voices belonged to Jenna and Jonah.

  "How many times do I have to reject you before it gets through your thick skull? For the last time, no. I'm not interested in you," Jenna said, briskly trying to walk past him.

  Jonah, however, wouldn't let up and intercepted her. "When I reach a higher rank, I won't take a second or third wife. You're the only one for me. Just give me a chance! We mesh so well together during pursuits, it's like we're meant for each other!"

  "Because we're supposed to watch each other's backs out there, and you just happen to be the one who ends up needing the most help." She perfectly parried and countered his advances like a fencer.

  The Hunter's Association aggressively encouraged polyamorous relationships precisely because hunting was so dangerous. In this world, living amongst creatures where the hierarchy was dictated by strength and hunters grew scarce, successful and high ranked hunters were expected to take multiple partners to sire future generations.

  Courtship at an even earlier age was normal. This wasn't the first, second, or third time Jonah had tried coming onto Jenna. Every attempt was met with failure, and in spite of that, Korin couldn't help but feel jealous. At the end of the day, they were the ones spending the most time with each other.

  "Who is it?" Jonah asked.

  "Who, what? Can we just give it a rest? We have mirack pursuit tomorrow, and I'd like to get some research done before bed," Jenna said.

  "Is it Obrick? No way, right? He's too goofy. Another guy from a different hunting party? Or don't tell me… it's the cook." He chuckled derisively.

  "Who I like isn't any of your business, and—"

  Korin, having heard enough but not wanting to make himself known, picked up a pebble and tapped rapidly against the wooden support beams underneath their feet.

  "Ch-ch-chiii… Ch-ch-chiii!" He mixed a whistle and stuttering chirp to mimic a rather pesky bird that had a habit of pecking anything red— the worst nightmare for someone as fiery-headed as Jonah.

  "Oh, fuck… Is that an anglerfowl? Sorry, Jenna. I'll see you tomorrow!" Jonah hightailed it out of there in no time.

  Shae was right. Animal mimicry did have its uses in the most opportune times.

  "Alright, how long have you been eavesdropping?" Jenna leaned over the walkway, grinning.

  "How'd you know?" Korin asked. "I thought I was pretty convincing. Evidently, Jonah thought so."

  "Because anyone who does any amount of studying would know anglerfowls aren't nocturnal. Looks like Jonah isn't the only one who needs to brush up," she teased.

  Right. Korin had completely forgotten, but it was the little victories that mattered.

  "But I appreciate the assist getting him off my back." Jenna bid him goodnight and left as well.

  Korin was about to enter his room when he realized the doorknob was slightly warmer than it should be. Someone was inside. Pressing an ear to the door, he made out quiet shuffling from within. A thief? Maybe a critter snuck in?

  "What are you waiting for, Korin? Get your ass in here and feed me!" a woman brashly demanded from within.

  Well, it was definitely not a harmless guest alright. Korin threw open the door to the Ennuit huntress, Shae Orotiel, bandaging her right forearm at his desk. Two serrated swords leaned against the wall. Like the obsidian sash around her left thigh, Shae's dark complexion blended into the unlit interior, but he could make out the smirk by her pearly-white teeth and the flowers woven into her long, dark brown dreads.

  "If you're here, that must mean you're avoiding Winston again," Korin jokingly remarked.

  "Life's busy when you're the ace tracker of Valdwyn. If I show my face to the commander now, how many pursuits do you think he'll order me to catch up on? But forget that, lemme get at what's in your hands. I've been starved of your food for too long!" Shae extended her grabby paws in his direction like a gluttonous behemoth.

  Turning on the lamp, Korin put the food he brought from the mess hall onto the desk for Shae, who started digging in with such ferocity to rival a popapog swine. Despite knowing her for almost half his life, he couldn't help but admire the long, pointed ears even now.

  Long, dagger-tipped ears, high cheekbones, slender limbs, and sharp eyes were trademarks of the Ennuit people, who mostly lived away from human civilization, and fewer still were part of the Association. Their long ears allowed them to more easily detect vibrations in the air, making them excellent trackers by sound and harder to surprise by most ambushing behemoths.

  "Rare to see you getting hurt. What happened there?" He pointed to the wound on her arm.

  "Pack of damn ruggas. Normally, they wouldn't dare attack caravans. A behemoth's probably got them on edge. Not enough hunters to go around these days to even clear the roads." Shae sighed.

  Korin threw himself onto bed and selfishly hoped more attacks would happen. Maybe then Winston would have no choice but to make him a hunter.

  "By that bummed out look, the commander turned you down this time around, too, huh? Maybe a gift will cheer you up." Shae pulled from her knapsack a large, sheathed dagger.

  He sat right up, eager to receive the gift. Pulling it from the leather sheath revealed a beautiful foot-long blade with a blue hue when shown under light.

  "The blade is made from greshen steel and the sheath from draconic behemoth scale? How did you afford this?" Korin gasped.

  "I missed your eighteenth birthday a few months back because I was gone on that escort. Don't think I haven't forgotten, cub." Shae winked, reaching out to ruffle his hair, then flinched as she saw tears rolling down his cheeks. "Aw, shucks. If you cry on me now, it's going to get awkward."

  Greshen steel was among the highest quality metals a hunter's weapon could be made from. Only ivory and obsidian ranks were typically seen using them. Even though Korin wasn't a hunter himself, for Shae to gift him something like this…

  "Sorry, it's just… Thanks, Shae. I really appreciate this gift. I'll make use of it in a way that will make you proud," Korin vowed.

  "Good. That's what I want to hear." Shae scooted him aside and laid face down in bed. "You can thank me by helping me work out the knots on my shoulders. I'm beat and in need of some rest and relaxation."

  With the moment ruined, he rolled his eyes and groaned.