The Legend of the Hunter

The Hollow People were the unofficial Masters of the Forsaken Forest. In fact, it was precisely because they had rejected humanity that the forest became known as forsaken. The Hollow People had constructed their sinister Shrine within the very heart of the forest out of the living limbs of gigantic trees, and no one with any sense stepped into their domain.

The Hollow People had given up all emotions except one: that of curiosity. They wanted to know why creatures did what they did; how they functioned; what made them tick. To this end, they waylaid any who foolishly ventured into their terrain. They had chosen to put aside their humanity and follow the path of a new belief: that of Science. Consequently, they conducted horrific experiments on anyone they could ensnare, and the citizens and denizens of the forest very quickly learned to be exceedingly cautious whenever they were within the proximity of the Forsaken Forest.

What truly frightened everyone though about the Hollow People was the reason they were so named: they were people devoid of a soul. In a literal sense, they were indeed hollow.

Two of the Hollow People were perched in the higher branches of a sturdy oak, silently observing what had been transpiring in the glen. When Rhinihr shuffled off towards the other end of the forest, both had tacitly agreed to leave him unmolested. They were far more interested in the Elfling, especially when they heard him talk about his ability to heal. The Hunter would be a welcome specimen to analyse. He intrigued them tremendously.

Both Lathlin and Belac were entirely oblivious to the presence of the two lurkers. Then things became more interesting for the watchers: another party of five men was sneaking up from the south on the Hunter and the Elfling. The two Hollow People locked gazes and, as one, moved to intercept the approaching Thugs.

The Hollow People wore clothing that allowed them to glide down silently from above, a method which had enabled them for times uncountable to successfully catch their prey unawares. And they now employed it with vicious and merciless efficiency.

Talat and his men had been steadily gaining on Belac, the Hunter. A few hours before they had come upon the aftermath of his battle with the dreiche, and their blood was running feverishly hot with the anticipation of their encounter with him. Talat suspected that Belac had already caught up with the Elfling, thus he was fairly confident that he would be able to snag both of them in one fell, unexpected swoop.

“Huluh,” he now whispered to one of his men, “send the word quietly down the line. The Hunter is mine. You may have the Elfling, but remember that he is not to be harmed in any manner.”

“Yes, Talat,” the man replied and with hand signals, conveyed the message to the other men. They all nodded in silent acknowledgement.

The forest was preternaturally quiet, and this sparked the tiniest flame of concern within Talat’s breast, but it was far too late.

Wraiths on the wing, the two Hollow People dropped down upon the slinking party like death stomping on insects. Before any of the stealthy Thugs knew what was happening, two of the men were dead. In a heartbeat, another perished without a sound.

Talat was lucky; he had been born lucky. He had been some distance ahead of his men, thus he had had time to look back and register with shock and fear what was happening. Instinctively, he had abandoned all attempt at stealth and thundered his way toward the clearing. Huluh had time to give one piercing scream before one of the Hollow People slit his throat from ear to ear. He was still gurgling his death rattle when the Hollow People sped after Talat.