The Blind Hunter both loved and dreaded hunger. It used to be the prelude to a feast, but now it was looming, threatening to kill him. He didn't fancy death - he had seen what happened to the dead of his kind. In the cave where they rested while hung upside down, the dying and the sick would fall from the ceiling, down onto the grey earth where worms and beetles would come and eat their flesh. The creeping dread of seeing his kin devoured by the swarm made the Blind Hunter wince. And by then the voice inside him was praying, Just a fly will do... A fly will do...
Hungry... the Blind Hunter jerked as the thought of hunger took over his mind. A moth... a wasp... whatever will do... He glided from trees to trees, wishing to see a fly or two, his heart ticking as his stomach growled louder.
But he was alone with the voice of winter.
A fly will do. Just a fly will do... Shuffling along the paths between cedars, the Blind Hunter at last came to the edge of the wood, to the place that made him stiffen with grudge: a town, a riddling sprawling of wooden houses lined against each other. And there were the bizarre beasts - rumbling things, running through the grey roads while carrying humans inside them. It had been erected only a few moon cycles ago, when hordes of humans came with their roaring tools and cut down half of the wood. The sight of humans made the Blind Hunter tremble, and venom filled his eyes as he glared at them. He loathed but also feared them. Humans were so much stronger and armed with weapons. He wouldn't want to face their wrath.
Then the Blind Hunter's stomach growled again. His heart almost halted as he thought of foraging in a humans' dwelling. He thought about his fear and for a while, wanted to turn back to the wood. Yet, when one thought drove him away, another did the opposite. You won't be finding anything in the wood. He knew it, deep down. As the rumbles in his belly loomed closer, the shadow of death blinking in his mind, the Blind Hunter forgot about his fear. He only flapped his wings and flitted towards the town, prepared to face humans for the first time in his life. Perhaps I wanted to come all along... I'd been flying towards this direction all this time...
The Blind Hunter made his way slowly, stopping and hovering above the town. The air was filled with strange scents he'd never known, sweetness he'd never sensed in insects and fruits. He couldn't land - he could hear the hisses of raccoons and stray dogs around, but the scents made his mouth flood with saliva. There're great feasts. He mused. There're feasts... The Blind Hunter shivered, and glided through the air, and kept the silence. There's a great feast ahead...
The golden scent came trembling through the air.
The Blind Hunter's nostrils met them with foreboding. When the golden scent drifted into him, a bristle went through his fur. It was the sweetest smell he'd sensed. He shivered with anticipation, his gut yearning for the taste of its source, his thought scrambled from excitement. He was panting now, his heart racing. Food...! Food...! His breathes were rash. The golden scent lingered and sang to him, beckoning at the Blind Hunter, luring him to go near. Ever since the wood had been cut down and the barn replaced by a town, there'd never been a smell so sweet, not even the scent of a deer's red nectar.
He stayed in there, scarce daring to breathe, while the moon shone lazily above on the black sky. Finally, his muscles cramping and his stomach shouting with hunger, he flew towards the source of the scent.
