moni uddin

Hunt the Beast

Horntree Village, Spring.

I agree with Apollo. We have to act now. When I see the cattlefolk struggling, I can’t help but wonder, how much longer can they last? Their harvests grow smaller each year, the nights colder, and, most of all, their hope is fading.

Tess doesn’t agree, of course, but she hasn’t stopped us. She doesn’t try to reason with us anymore. It’s as if she knows the decision has already been made.

Training with Apollo has been brutal. As a teacher, the kind bull becomes a stern mentor. But I can already see the improvement. I can finally hold a sword properly and plant my feet in the right stance. I feel light on my paws, quick and agile. 

Of course, it’s nothing compared to the raw strength of the cattlefolk, but once, I managed to disarm a bull purely through speed. I won’t forget that anytime soon, though I doubt anyone in Mowton would believe me.

Still, none of this compares to the beast. Every time I think of the plan we discussed, I shudder. Not just because of the immense danger but because I am the key to making it work. I’ll need courage then, more than ever.

Tomorrow is the day. I’ll meet Apollo and the other warriors at the edge of the grass. The day we hunt the beast and save Horntree.

“Every single one of you will go down in history as the saviours of Horntree,” Apollo declared, gripping his greatsword firmly in hand. He removed his cloak, revealing rough leather armour beneath, worn from years of use. His followers gathered close behind him at the edge of the tall grass.

Apollo’s eyes turned to Sable. “Little one, you are the bravest among us. The cattlefolk will never forget this.” 

The warriors murmured in agreement. Sable felt a rush of pride within the fear that had gripped him. He spotted some of the cattlefolk trembling, their sword hands shaking as sweat dripped from their faces. Others fixed their attention on Apollo, his words filling them with courage. 

“This is our last stand. So, when the beast looks down at you and fear seeps in, just remember why—and you will find your courage right there.” With that, he motioned for the group to step into the grasslands.

For a time, only the soft patter of hooves and paws broke the silence, blending with the rustling grass. The party moved along the faint northern path, keeping chatter to a minimum. Every ear twitched at the slightest sound, the tension thick in the air. Then, just as Apollo had predicted, a thunderous roar erupted, cutting through the grass like a warning. The beast knew they were there.

Apollo raised his hand and the group came to an immediate halt. He turned back toward Sable and nodded—the signal for the first step of the plan. Sable’s ears flattened, but he nodded. For a moment, his feet did not move, rooted as they were in self-preservation. But one cow near him placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Sable broke away from the group. He moved toward the beast as the party circled around. 

Once again, Sable found himself alone. Every sound in the grass felt amplified: the pounding steps and the screeching roar, each filled with an unrelenting fury. It was as if the beast could sense everything—the party, the cat, their intentions—driving it to madness. Step by step, Sable drew closer. Like the wind, he moved through the blades of grass, each step light, silent, and precise.

Then, in the distance, he saw it. The beast scrambled through the grass, flattening the blades beneath its massive form, pausing abruptly before darting in another direction. Its nose twitched, hunting for the overwhelming scents, desperate to lock onto a target. It let out a deafening screech, its roar filled with rage. The colour of its fur shifted from auburn to a crimson-red hue. The beast was on the offensive.

As Sable went to take another step, his legs gave out beneath him. He hadn’t even realised how tense he had become, with his fur bristling and claws engaged—but now he was frozen. Fear gripped him, leaving his body unresponsive. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe, to remember why he was here, like Apollo had said. The plight of Horntree village came to him: the cattlefolk on the edge of survival, the calves robbed of their childhood. He told himself that he would help if he could. That didn’t change now.

Blood and courage rushed through his veins, blending into a powerful concoction of resolve that invigorated his muscles. He began crawling through the grass toward the beast, his paws clutching at tufts for balance. His grip tightened around the sword in his hand—a promise to do what was right. Slowly, he regained control of his legs. Courage flowed through his mind, steadying him, and he rose to his feet.

The beast’s massive form loomed ahead, its back only a few meters away. A quiet defiance took hold of Sable, propelling him forward. The creature moved constantly, stomping through the grass as it searched for the invaders, its movements erratic and purposeful. Sable matched its rhythm, watching carefully, waiting for a pause. Then, the moment came.

With a burst of speed, Sable sprinted toward the beast, the wind whipping through his hair, and leapt onto its back. A low growl rumbled from the beast’s chest, its irritation clear, but the twitching of its nose remained fixed on the nearby cattlefolk.

Sable ascended the beast, feeling its throbbing warmth and terror. Reaching the top, Sable saw beyond the grasslands for the first time. The rises and dips of the once-great landscape stretched out before him, old taverns, shrines, and markets peeking just above the sea of grass. Nearby, he spotted Apollo and the rest of the party, their figures barely visible through the shifting gaps in the grass.

The beast moved relentlessly and Sable desperately grasped its fur with one hand for stability. He angled his sword downwards, aiming it at the beast’s back. But he hesitated, seeing the beast struggle. Then it stopped, as it finally locked on to the cattlefolk. Thinking only of the cattlefolk’s safety, Sable drove his sword into the beast’s back.

The beast let out a deafening roar, scrambling and twisting as it tried to shake him off. Another roar echoed, this time from Apollo and his followers as they charged forward, swords glinting in the fractured sunlight. They surrounded the beast, which lashed out furiously with its massive horns, tearing through the air.

Sable held firm, driving his sword deeper. The beast reared onto its hind legs, thrashing wildly in its desperation to dislodge him. That was the moment Apollo had been waiting for. With one powerful motion, he plunged his great sword into the beast’s exposed belly.

“Everyone, back!” Apollo bellowed, waving his followers away. “Get off, little one!”

Before Sable could react, the beast bucked violently, throwing him off with a force that sent him tumbling to the ground. A final, piercing screech tore through the air as the beast staggered, its massive frame trembling. The party watched in tense silence as it retreated into the grass, its form disappearing from view.

A sudden flash of light forced the party to shield their eyes. When they lowered their hands, they saw it—a black dust rising from the tall grass, carried by the wind toward the sky. More than seeing it, they felt it. Horntree village was finally free.

Cheers erupted through the grass, and one of the bulls lifted Sable onto his shoulders.

“Little one!” they chanted, their voices full of joy.

Ahead, the base of the Blue Mountain stared at Sable, just a day’s walk away. He held its gaze, his chest rising with a newfound confidence. The small courage he had shown for the cattlefolk seemed to ripple outward. He realised then that the challenges ahead were no longer beyond him but were stepping stones waiting to be crossed with brave purpose.

Courage, he now understood, begins in small, meaningful moments. But once it takes root, it becomes a foundation to build upon and draw from in the hardest times.

Sable smiled, his gaze meeting Apollo’s for a brief moment. Apollo replied with a faint, weary one, but his eyes soon drifted to the black dust swirling in delicate patterns above. It hung there, ethereal, as if carrying away a piece of the village. Some new understanding flickered across Apollo’s face. Without a word, he unsheathed his dagger, laid it gently on the ground, and bowed his head in silent respect.