The Last Ranger

Chapter 2: Herschel Monroe

The sun had set, disappearing to the east, darkening the small farming colony. The festivities had ended early, Claudia guessed. Usually, the cheerful sounds could be heard deep into the night, but the attempt on miss Cleos' life had removed the festive spirit from the colonists. Unlike them, probably, Claudia had a massive smile on her face as she made her way home through the farmlands, guided by the faint yellowish moonlight. As she came closer to the forest wall, she noted faint blue lights hovering in the clearing between the forests and farms. Fireflies.

The tiny creatures dispersed at her arrival, flying off into the night. In the forest now, it was dark without the sun's light. The forest canopy hid most stars, and the moonlight was too feeble this time of year to be effective underneath the forest roof. Most will lose their way without light, wandering the forest aimlessly until dawn. Claudia knew these forests, however. She could navigate them with her eyes close. She had navigated them with her eyes closed only a week prior.

"A warrior must rely on all their senses." Her father had told her. "Touch, Sight, Hearing, Smell, and Taste." It was a lesson he had often taught her since she was a small girl. Sometimes he plugged her ears, forcing her to use her sense of smell and sight, or he blindfolded her and told her to rely on hearing and touch. It was hard, but it was another useful skill.

At night, nocturnal creatures came to hunt or drink from the faraway river. However, these creatures were rare as even the most skilled hunters struggled to track them, so it surprised Claudia when she heard several of them nearby. Their tiny feet were scrambling, and they made their mating calls. An odd sound, Claudia reflected. Feeling a faint wind on her skin, Claudia tried to remain downwind, stalking the animals, wishing for proper moonlight so that she might glimpse one of these creatures. Slowly she made her way to the sound, eyes focused on the forest floor, ears close to the ground. Like a ghost, she approached until finally, she came upon one of the creatures.

It was not a nocturnal creature, after all. A three-pronged deer was trapped in a hole. Its hooves were scrambling, trying their best to escape. The sound it made was not one of mating but rather distress. One of its three horns was broken, and its fur was dirty. Claudia could see the deer as clearly as if it was day. Fireflies buzzed in the trees, illuminating the deer's surroundings. Claudia made her way closer, slowly so as not to startle the fireflies. The hole was not man-made. It must have formed naturally during the spring rains.

Suddenly the fireflies dispersed. The deer panicked, hurling itself into the hole's slopes, trying its best to escape. Claudia's attention turned to the source of a familiar sound. At first, she thought it to be fireworks, but fireworks would have come from the town, and the festival was cancelled, and the colonists were sent home. No, that was a gunshot, and it came from her house. Quickly, Claudia began to run towards home. Two more gunshots echoed through the forest. Now she sprinted, her weapon in hand.

Finally, she saw the outline of the house ahead. A lone light came from inside, and she saw a shadow moving from within. Her pace slowed. She fell to the ground, crawling forward. She stopped suddenly—an unknown heap in front of her. A body, she realised. The ground around its head was wet and muddy. Her hand touched it. Blood. She expected a massive hole in his head, where the bullet tore through it.

She felt a little queasy, holding back vomit, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth and the back of her throat. She crawled around the corpse and nearer to her house. The front door was open. Light shone on another body: A woman, her skin pale, her ears pointy, revealing her to be an elf. Her eyes were black, and her hair dark blue. She stared into an abyss, blood dripping from her lips with a gaping hole in between her breasts. This time, Claudia did vomit.

Wiping it from her mouth and spitting, Claudia stood. Gun ready, aimed ahead, she stepped past the dead elf into the house. A third corpse had crashed through the dining table, gun still in hand. Brains, blood, and bone were splattered on the wall behind him, next to Claudia. His head was destroyed. In the corner of the room, Claudia's father sat in his chair, cleaning his rifle. He wore an odd brown trench coat with a brown hat.