Kael's subtle successes didn't go unnoticed, especially by Roric, Veridian Hollow's grizzled, semi-retired Aether-Forged Hunter. Roric, a man of few words and keen eyes, had seen generations of hopefuls try and fail to make a living from the unforgiving Barrens. Kael's sudden, albeit modest, improvement in foraging, coupled with the still-murmured tale of the Frostfang Viper, had piqued his interest.
One morning, as Kael was preparing to head out, Roric approached him. The Hunter was a mountain of a man, his face a roadmap of scars and weather lines, his presence exuding a quiet, formidable power.
"Boy," Roric rumbled, his voice like stones grinding together. "Heard you've been getting… lucky."
Kael tensed, his hand instinctively going to the pouch where the Heartstone rested. "Just been paying more attention, Roric."
Roric grunted, unconvinced. "Luck runs out. Attention needs honing. The Barrens are stirring. More predators sighted closer to the Hollow. Skitter-fiend packs are bolder." He paused, his gaze sharp. "Tomorrow, you come with me. Not foraging. Hunting."
Kael's blood ran cold. Hunting with Roric? That was a leap he wasn't prepared for. Skitter-fiends were nasty, multi-limbed scavengers that hunted in packs, armed with sharp claws and a debilitating shriek. While not as deadly as a Frostfang, a pack could easily overwhelm an inexperienced youth.
"I... I'm not a Hunter, Roric," Kael stammered.
"No, you're not," Roric agreed bluntly. "You're a boy who got lucky once and has been finding a few extra berries since. But you have eyes, and you seem to be using them lately. And we need every able body if the Barrens turn truly sour." He didn't wait for an answer, just turned and walked away. "Dawn. Don't be late."
Fear warred with a strange, reluctant excitement in Kael. This was a chance, a terrifying one, to truly test himself, and perhaps the Heartstone, in a way his solitary experiments couldn't replicate.
That night, Kael barely slept. He held the Heartstone, focusing, trying to coax out its power, to feel that jolt, that clarity. He managed a few faint thrums, but nothing like the surge he'd experienced with the vipers. He knew relying on panic wasn't a strategy.
At dawn, a nervous Kael met Roric at the edge of the village. The Hunter handed him a sturdier spear than his own, its wooden shaft smooth and balanced, its obsidian tip razor sharp. "Try not to lose this one. Or impale yourself."
Their hunt took them deeper into the Barrens than Kael had ever dared venture. Roric moved with an economy of motion that Kael tried to emulate, his senses, already heightened by the Heartstone's passive influence, straining to pick up every sign.
Roric pointed. "Tracks. Skitter-fiend. Small pack, three, maybe four. Fresh."
Kael squinted. He could see them now, faint depressions in the dust he would have missed a month ago. He felt the Heartstone, cool against his skin, and tried to will that heightened awareness, that preternatural clarity.
They tracked the fiends to a rocky outcrop. Roric signaled for silence, then peered over a boulder. He motioned Kael forward.
Three Skitter-fiends were tearing at the carcass of a Dust Hare. They were hunched, grotesque creatures, their multiple limbs ending in wicked claws, their segmented tails twitching.
"Your spear is for reach," Roric whispered, his own heavy, scarred axe held ready. "Aim for the joints or the head. Don't let them surround you. And if they shriek, cover your ears if you can – it'll disorient you."
Before Kael could fully process the instructions, Roric moved. He was a blur of motion, his axe whistling through the air, cleaving into the nearest Skitter-fiend with a sickening crunch.
The remaining two fiends shrieked – a high-pitched, unnerving sound that made Kael's teeth ache despite his attempt to muffle his ears. One lunged at Roric, who met it with a brutal efficiency.
The third one, smaller but fast, saw Kael. It abandoned Roric and charged at the weaker prey.
Panic, cold and sharp, spiked through Kael. This was it. No time to think, no time to experiment.
He gripped his spear, the Heartstone pressing against his palm through the wood. As the Skitter-fiend leaped, claws outstretched, Kael felt it – the jolt. Cold, clear, and powerful.
Time stretched. The charging fiend seemed to slow. He saw the gleam in its multifaceted eyes, the slight shift of its weight as it prepared to land, the vulnerability of its exposed neck joint.
He didn't aim with conscious thought. His body moved, guided by that unnatural clarity. The spear shot out, not with overwhelming force, but with a desperate, precise accuracy he didn't know he possessed.
The obsidian tip punched through the Skitter-fiend's neck joint with a wet tearing sound. The creature crumpled, its shriek cut short, and lay still.
Silence descended, broken only by Kael's ragged breathing and Roric dispatching the last fiend with a final, perfunctory blow.
Roric turned, his expression unreadable as he looked at Kael, then at the dead Skitter-fiend at his feet, the spear still embedded.
"Well, boy," Roric finally rumbled, a hint of something that might have been surprise in his voice. "Maybe there's a bit more to you than just luck after all." He nodded towards the spear. "Good placement."
Kael could only stare, his arm trembling, the residual cold energy from the Heartstone slowly fading. He had done it. He had faced a true predator, a creature that could have easily killed him, and he had won. Not through brute strength, but through something else. Something the Heartstone had given him.
The path to becoming a Hunter, to becoming *strong*, suddenly felt a little less impossible. It was still terrifying, still fraught with danger, but he had taken his first real step. And the Heartstone, cool and silent in his grip, promised there were more steps to come.