"Why even bother?" The man's voice was a low grumble, coming from the small guard shed that stood beside Belrac's city gate. The wooden shed was barely holding together, its roof had sizable holes that definitely could not shelter much from rain. It was a clear sign that Baron Edric should renew these facilities. There was a singular large window, but Luther dared not risk a look. He would be spotted.
Luther's back pressed against the cold stone wall. He listened in the darkness, waiting for an opportunity to slither out of there. The guard was not alone. From the other voice that just spoke, there were two inside that shed.
"Is that the weekly report? Come on, that can wait, Erik!"
Luther knew that voice. It was Paul – A mountain of a person. His face was worn with scars and a hardened gaze that felt older than any man should be.
Erik jolted, startled by Paul's proximity. His head was close, peering through Erik's shoulders. "You know none'a us get paid if I don't do this." Luther could tell from Erik's voice that this man was way younger compared to Paul.
"Give it a break, Erik!" Paul unbuckled a small sack from his belt and casually tossed it onto the table. It landed with a soft, metallic thud. "The night's still young! We can find some fun." He winked, giving a playful pat on Erik's shoulder urging him to stop.
Erik sighed. "I've better things to do than to waste my coin on some whores. And I'm not catching syphilis."
"You're a coward." Paul slurred, already swaying on his feet. "None's going to be out tonight. We can have all the fun we wanna."
A curfew was placed a few moons ago in Belrac, which was a law placed by Baron Edric due to the recent rumours of war. Such rumours have been swirling around the city for weeks, and a noble such as Baron Edric enforcing such a rule gave the gossip much more credibility. The fear-gripped citizens obeyed without much question. Not like they could fight with armed guards anyway. But the guards made it into an opportunity.
They twisted the law into a simple way to earn extra coin. They would "arrest" a person, then offer them a chance to buy their freedom.
Paul swiftly grabbed the small bag of coin off the table and made for the gate. "You go guard this gate alone, then. I'll be surrounded by pretty women, and all you'll have for company is some ghost."
Paul was not exactly wrong. Luther was already a ghost lurking outside the shed.
Luther had nothing to offer them, nor could he win a fight with men in armour. He absolutely must not get caught. His stomach gave a weak rumble, but it was nothing compared to the howling wind outside, not nearly loud enough to rouse Erik. He didn't need to be quick, but he was losing patience.
Paul's shadow stretched and then vanished as he disappeared into the night, leaving Erik to his lonely post. He did his best to stay awake, but Erik's head began to nod. A silent count of a few seconds, and he was asleep, his head resting on his arms over the table.
Luther didn't have to tiptoe. He didn't have to sneak. He simply walked, a boy with nothing to lose, right out of the gates. The only sound outside the city walls was the faint buzzing of insects, a hum he recognized to be called grasshoppers by his father. But his stomach's growl was an annoying noise and reminder that he needed to eat as soon as possible. He tried to swallow; a dry, painful effort, hoping his own saliva might give him some temporary relief.
As the city gates receded behind Luther, the scent of pine hit his nostrils, no longer the usual smell of bodily fluids and rot. He took a sharp breath in, muttering to himself.
"Fuck, this is so much better."
He didn't have to follow a road. The forest was a thick, black wall that began just beyond the city's mud-caked walls. All was quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves, the chirping of whatever insects lived in the forest, and the blasted non-stop screaming of his own stomach.
Luther took out the knife hidden in his trousers, he could finally put the knife to good use. The moonlight, which had been his sole companion back in Belrac, was now splintered by the dense canopy above. The shadow swallowed the moonlight and every sound was a threat. The roots of the trees twisted into a knot of potential snares beneath his feet.
He walked deeper into the forest, his eyes darted around for any possible life to take tonight. He could barely see despite squinting his eyes and his ears were strained for any sound that wasn't his own. Another sharp rumble of his stomach caused him to wince. He had to hold the pain, taking a sharp breath in, as if it would help stop the sound.
Minutes stretched on and the only life he saw was a lone cricket that chirped with maddening persistence; and the cold was starting to gnaw at his fingers and toes. He had to find something. Anything. Maybe that damn cricket could make a meal, if it was even edible. Though a single cricket simply isn't enough. The feeling of hunger was no longer just a noise in his gut; it was a sickness slithering deep into limbs and bones.
Then, a rustle of leaves nearby. Luther froze. There, a small shape, black and furry, hopped into view. A wild rabbit. Its nose twitched, and its eyes were like two black stones that gleamed in the moonlight. He couldn't help but lick his lips, already imagining what the rabbit would taste like later. Without a beat, he lunged, his fingers reaching for its hind legs, but the rabbit was too fast. He lost his footing, tumbling onto a bed of sharp twigs that bit into his skin, followed by a loud groan.
But Luther quickly recovered and gave chase, hoping that it would be a quick thing to kill the rabbit. But the rabbit was a blur. A fleeting shadow. It ran zig-zag deeper into the forest and Luther followed it, weaving through the trees and thorny bushes ahead. He didn't care if his skin got torn; any man would understand his desperation.
His breathing quickly became shallow and labored, but he pushed on, completely driven by a hunger that screamed louder than his burning lungs. However, the rabbit was a phantom, it was always just out of reach. With each hop, it seemed to mock him.
Luther knew he needed to end this hunt fast. His head was spinning from exhaustion and the world started to spin with every step. The rabbit darted into a clearing and stood still, like it was an opportunity given by the Heavens. The rabbit was a blasted thing, he would never be able to use his stupid knife. Luther had to resort to other ways.
Rocks. He could throw it, maybe. They were everywhere and maybe he could kill it in one go or injure it. He scooped up a handful of stones from the forest floor, trying to gather the bigger ones. Then, he threw it. The stone flew wide, striking a tree with a loud crack. The rabbit bolted.
"Fuck!" The words were a low hiss, a burst of rage from his dry throat.
He kept throwing, each rock a desperate attempt. Another missed, then another. His aim was nothing more than a blind hope. His body screamed in protest, but his belly screamed louder.
He noticed the rabbit hesitating, its tiny head tilted as though it was listening. It was all he needed, even if it was just momentary. His muscles were burning, but that didn't stop him as he drew back his arm. With every ounce of his remaining strength, he threw it. The rock flew true. It hit the rabbit with a sickening thump, followed by a high, thin squeal of pain as it crumpled to the ground.
It thrashed for a few seconds, then stopped, as if it finally accepted its fate. Luther quickly and desperately stumbled towards it, almost tripping on twigs and rocks. His knife was already in his hand. He knelt, his knees sinking into the damp earth, and plunged the blade deep. He did not hesitate. The rabbit's body went limp as the earth drank its blood below. The only sound was the thrumming of the crickets and his own ragged breath. He had won. The hunger was still there, but he finally had a remedy.
The rabbit's body felt warm and heavy in his hands. He sighed in relief as his body went limp. He could finally rest.
"I should head back to the Hollow."
A small thought wormed into his mind. He looked down at the rabbit in his hand, then at the knife in the other.
He didn't know how to skin it.
He could gut it, he supposed, but that was as far as his knowledge went. He had seen butchers at work, but he had never learned. He couldn't. The rustle of leaves felt mocking, like it was laughing at him.
Then, Luther felt a surge of nausea. The sickness in his stomach came back with a fury. With the weight of his victory suddenly pressing down on him, he clutched on to the rabbit. He would bring it to the butcher in Belrac and hope they would take it, even if it was stiff. He could offer a portion of the rabbit, maybe. But as he tried to stand, his legs gave way, and he fell to his knees. The earth sprang up to greet him with apathy.
The last thing he felt was the damp earth and the fur of the rabbit in his hand before the world went black.