The first dog hit him like a battering ram, almost making him stumble back, not from its weight but from shock. It didn't wait even a second before it sank it's teeth into Rudra's forearm, the canines sinking in easily like butter in knife. The blood came out in sprinkle and ran down his hand in steady stream.
Rudra didn't scream. He drove the fist of his other hand into the animal. He felt the animal retching, it's jaw loosing it's grip on Rudra's muscle. The dog fell on the grass whimpering. But it didn't stop the other dogs drop attacking. Another set of teeth found the calf of his right leg. And another latched on his shoulder.
One of the dogs, too smart for its own good, went straight for Rudra's throat. Rudra caught it by its neck mid-air and threw it hard against a nearby tree.
Rudra knew his life wasn't on line. But it was becoming annoying. From above the tree, two arrows hit the ground- both missing the dogs. A third one finally managed to take down a dog- one that was insistently latched to his shoulder.
The dogs changed their strategy. They didn't just try to injure Rudra anymore. One dog bit him on his thigh and pulled to lower him to the ground, like wolves do when they are trying to prey on a particular tall animal.
This was it. This was the limit to his finite patience.
Rudra didn't open his mouth, but a low grinding sound came out from him, rattling around his chest cavity and vibrating the dogs that had their teeth sunk into his flesh.It wasn't a growl, not exactly, but it was warning enough. Those standing close whinned, flattening their ears against their head, tail going between their legs. The air around him grew hotter, the moisture in it vanishing momentarily.
He felt a warm liquid heat at the base of his spine. He didn't need to remember how to transform. The second he recalled he was a dragon, he was at verge of transforming.
The hounds felt it in the vibration that rolled off from Rudra's body and shook the very earth for few seconds. And the animals were always better at recognising a predator than humans ever had been.
The dogs, like the wise beings they were, reared back one by one, a few brave ones letting out loud barks- which was less a sign of aggression and more a sign of fear. And then they sprinted away- whimpering and whinning.
Whoever had blown the whistle didn't dare to do it again. The wounds started healing before the first hunter had dropped from the tree.
He looked apologetic. The next one was Mehta and Sidh.
Last was Dhaman. But he didn't jump down with controlled reflex like other hunters. He fell.
Rudra turned his head fast enough to see the last hunter dropping heavily on the grass. And then he just lied there on his back, eyes wide. He didn't have any injury on his entire body - except his throat.
Rudra walked over to check on the hunter. But even before he had reached Dhaman, he knew the man was dead.
Almost at the center of his throat, a chunk of flesh was missing- a clean deliberate absence where the vocal box should have been. Blood pooled from the wound at the base of the throat and between his collar bone. His chin and jaw were also painted red.
It was a precise violence. There was no scratches, no bite marks, no sign of struggle. Almost as if that part of the body had been surgically removed.
Except it had happened in the span of few minutes and on top of a thirty feet tall tree.
The rest of the body was untouched. As if it was the only part that truly mattered- only part the shape shifters couldn't mimic fully. So they took it and left the rest of the body like garbage.
They hadn't feed on Dhaman's flesh. They hadn't drank his blood.
These shapeshifters, Rudra realised, weren't killing for their hunger for human flesh. They were doing it for hunting their group.
The dogs were indeed distraction. The main goal was to separate them from eachother. And when they had climbed on different trees, the enemy had won. Rudra suspected the rest of them would have also died had Rudra not scared off the dogs.
A light shower or rain arrived, washing the blood off Rudra's hand from the wounds which had already closed.
Rudra looked at the dark shade of the tree from where Dhaman had dropped. He thought about climbing up the tree to chase the shape shifter himself if it was still hiding there.
But that would mean leaving the rest of the crew alone
"We are leaving," he said, "Escort me back home."
Rudra, in truth, did not need anyone to escort him- let alone a bunch of so called veteran hunters who kept failing to see the traps. He needed to hunt alone after he was sure they were safe. Or atleast far away enough for him that he would not have to be responsible for their survival.
Kesh did not protest, "Understood, Your Highness." But the rest of the crews didn't speak. Rudra noticed Mehta staring at the corpse with wide eyes and green face. First sign of panic.
It was already bad enough that multiple shape shifters were possibly working in a precise planned manner and had already succeeded in killing two of his crews. But if the hunters now started panicking, Rudra knew the rest of them would be lost.
"Mehta," Rudra addressed him directly, "Look at me."
He didn't look at Rudra immediately. When he did, Rudra noticed his pupils were shaking. "Stay close to me," Rudra said, "And I will get you back to the palace safe."
"Your Highness," whispered Mehta, "Those shifters stole the dog whistle probably from the dog pen and then led the dogs all the way here," he spoke in a voice which was awfully calm, "Is the palace really safe? How do we know we won't come across any shape shifter there?"
A valid question indeed.
"I can tell which ones are shae shifters," Rudra assured, "I'll warn you which one to avoid."
"How can we trust you ,Your Highness?" Whispered Mehta, "What if you are a shape shifter?"
Rudra opened his mouth but before he could speak they heard a sound. Not a scream for help like Rao's had been.
It was sound of someone laughing out loud. It sounded low, human - then it cracked upward mid-breath into something higher, thinner, wrong - like two throats trying to finish the same sound together.
Whatever was up in the tree was laughing. And it was laughing in Dhaman's voice.
Mehta ran.
He made exactly ten pace before a horse, Mehta's horse - broke the tree line, running towards him. Relief flooded Mehta's face.
"Sukh! Good boy!" He praised the horse as he ran towards it, "You came back for me, boy!"
He probably saw it as a way to escape whatever laughed mimicking Dhaman.
But the thing Mehta ran towards, was no horse. Even from afar, Rudra could see how poorly disguised it was. Kesh shouted, a mixture of terror and rage.
Mehta didn't notice it wasn't his horse Sukh. Or maybe he realised it too late.
The creature opened its mouth, a large gaping thing too wide to belong to a horse, lined with sharp teeth.
And it snapped it shut around Mehta's neck.