Tightening his grip on his spear, pain shot through his arm, but he didn’t care; it was worth it.

Maybe this time he wouldn’t mess up. According to some in the Clan, he always messed up.

Slowing his breath and stilling his mind, he waited for the right moment to pounce.

A hush fell on the forest, and whatever was behind the tall bush stopped rustling as if spooked.

Having watched Krukk hunt many times, Roeg knew the motions involved, but because of his hand, he wasn’t allowed to hunt.

Today, he would show him. This would be the day he would show Krukk that he, too, was a hunter.

Being older than most younglings in the Clan who could hunt, it irritated Roeg when Krukk denied him the ability to provide for the Clan. It was a Clan right to hunt, and Roeg would claim it or die trying.

Being the son of the Clan Chief and Shaman obviously hadn’t afforded Roeg any advantage with Clan privileges. Krukk, although not Clan chief, wouldn’t have it, and he usually got his way.

A burst of brown feathers attached to a set of strikingly long, powerful legs shot out from behind the bushes. The moment had come; Roeg lurched forward in pursuit.

This featherclaw’r was bigger than any Roeg had ever seen before. The muscles in its hairless legs rippled as it raced through the forest.

Leaping over debris and rocks, Roeg kept pace with the feathered beast, but knew that out in the open, the beast would easily escape. He’d need to keep it in the thicket.

Flapping its large wings, but never leaving the ground, the featherclaw’r screeched as it awkwardly slammed into several, narrowly spaced trees.

Hindered by the scrub brush and tall grasses, the feathered beast slowed further, and Roeg’s mind raced as his chances of success improved.

Releasing another shrill squawk, the beast suddenly turned, puffed its feathers, and stood its ground, aggressively tearing at the dirt with its dangerously sharp, clawed foot.

Roeg didn’t know whether to slow or keep pursuing, so he did neither. Instead, he skidded to a stop, blundering into a roll.

Regaining his composure, he clambered up just as the feathered beast snapped its beak at him. Leaping back just in time, Roeg stumbled and had to use his spear to keep balance.

As if triumphant, the beast spread its massive wings, flapping them several times in a show of defiance.

Stepping forward, Roeg smashed the butt-end of his spear on the forest floor and roared menacingly at the beast. Impressed with his confidence, Roeg beamed, but it didn’t last long because as the butt-end of the spear hit the ground, the bottom splintered and shattered into pieces.

His once confident stance turned on itself, and he stumbled back and ran.

“Leave me alone, you nasty beast,” Roeg yelled, not looking back, the confidence lost in his voice.

It didn’t help; the feathered beast seemed to gain on him. He could hear the large beak snapping behind him. Several times, almost clamping down on his neck.

He could see the clearing in the distance. If he could make it there before the feathered beast snapped his head off, he might make it out alive, even if the beast was faster out in the open.

Snap!

Before Roeg could react, he felt a sharp pain on his shoulder and suddenly he pitched sideways, ricocheting off a tree.

After several trees broke his fall, Roeg lay traumatized in the tall grasses. The sky blackened as the beast shook its matted wings over Roeg in a show of dominance.

Still gripping the spear, Roeg trembled, not because of fear, but because the pain in his hand was unbearable. But all that didn’t matter, because for all Roeg could tell, these might be his last moments.

Maybe he deserved to die. He couldn’t throw a spear, which meant he couldn’t provide for the Clan. In many ways, he was useless. A nobody. A nothing.

The beast, obviously satisfied with itself, released three high-pitched squawks and dug its clawed foot back, kicking up dirt.

This couldn’t be the end... could it?

Roeg had to do something, and fast. He sprung to his knees and used what was left of his energy to launch the spear.

Whether it was because he had waited too long, or because he was on his knees, the spear harmlessly bounced off the beast’s feathery chest and fell to the ground.

The beast charged forward and raised its clawed foot high above Roeg’s head. All he could do was wait for the impending mauling, which he hoped would be quick and painless.

Before the clawed foot came down, a thunderous crack erupted and Roeg felt a wet splatter across his face that turned his vision red, temporarily blinding him. After wiping his eyes clear, Roeg realized his whole body was covered in blood. Panicking now, he looked for deep gouges or claw wounds but found none.

Stunned, he looked around to see the beast laying on the ground. Roeg watched its leg twitch and kick wildly in the last throes of death. The end of a tall wooden spear with a telltale red ribbon attached to it stuck out of the chest of the beast. Then he heard a loud bellow that could only come from one person: Krukk. “What are you doing, boy? Trying to kill yourself?”