Book of Brutality

Chapter 5

Léon sat by his fire through the night. He tended to it lightly, just enough to keep the light on himself and Calliope where she rested against the trunk of the tree. Between feeding the fire, he sharpened his tools to lethal edges. He picked out his sturdiest ax and flecked it with a whetted stone he picked up off the ground. The intermittent sound of stone scraping stone echoed in the woods, just enough to match the sound of branches breaking in the distance, but not quite loud enough to overlap them. The beast grew used to rhythm, and timed the strikes of Léon's blade with its own footsteps to stay hidden.

It was clever. The worst kind of beast was one that could learn. It's what made man so formidable in the wilds, simultaneously capable of hunting yet so easily prone to being somehow hunted. He wasn't worried his ax was coming into play, and so would his spear tip. He only needed a moment to find a branch to fasten it to. He had plenty of spear tips, and an abundance of sticks and wood to place them on so they could be thrown and discarded. Each was barbed with carefully honed stone working. The beast would feel the penetrating wounds and try to relieve itself of them, only to gouge out more flesh and bleed faster in the process. He aimed to use the beast's smarts against it.

He was using more of his skills of hunting men than he was for hunting beasts, skills he never imagined he would have to use aside from dire emergencies. His people, for what he remembered, were always outcasts even among the wanderers and other tribal men. In ancient times, before the hierarchy rose, they learned the ways of killing men for self-defense to preserve the tribe, to use the skills of a hunter against him and hunt in kind. The bodies of fallen enemies were entreated to ritual burials, their flesh dissected and dispersed into the wild so the plants and animals could feed upon them. Even for the wicked dead there was no part left wasted. They were honored as all creatures were so that their death was not needless.

Calliope stirred in her sleep. The ground was uneven and cold. Her blanket only did so much and the fire could only reach so far. Léon angled the brush and rocks more toward her to make a sort of tiny hearth. It lit her up well. He moved around to the side. When he got up, his ears keened to the distance. He heard a distinct lack of noise as he moved, as if whatever watched him bated its breath for him to leave the fireside and get lost in the dark. It wasn't attacking yet because it still didn't know what Léon was capable of within his element. It didn't fear the fire, it feared failure - to force Léon into a state of alarm and reach a place where the monster couldn't catch him. Even a wolf cannot out dig a rabbit in its warren. It was waiting to make sure Léon and Calliope had no place to go.

Léon reached for more tinder but couldn't find any. He felt the tension of the bandages on his arm as he flexed it. He unwrapped his mark and layered the bandages into the fire. He didn't need to hide it anymore. The mark of the Furahsee was plain to the air. It felt good. He felt little from the marking. The scarring ceremony was a wild one. They first seared his flesh to make the mark, then dyed his skin as it recovered. It took a month of healing salves, scab peeling and yet more plant pigments to reach the state where it was always bright red and outlined with a regal purple hue. Not infected, yet never healed, a mark of pride for survival against the elements. Proof of taming the demon within him. When he saw Calliope, his free hand naturally drifted over to cover it. As if he were afraid to show her what she already knew.

"Hrm," Calliope stirred. She opened her eyes to a dreary, tired waking. "What time is it?"

"Night," Léon answered.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Maybe two hours," he said.

"Were you awake the whole time?"

He nodded. "Stay quiet," he warned. "Whisper beneath the wind."

"What?"

Léon held his hand up to her mouth to quiet her. They spoke with barely any breath, mouthed words and hushed sounds, yet were clear enough to understand one another. Even the fire was louder than them.