Cryptid

"Pabi, Pabi! I've caught one!"

"Let me see..." The old hunter leaned over the trap, watching the scruffy little critter tearing circles with the skittering of claws. "Nice work, Mikii." He removed a mitten, patting his son's head with a mighty, calloused hand, ruffling the curls sticking out beneath his hood with squared fingers.

As he lifted the trap out of the snow, the younger child behind him twiddled his own. "Pabi... are you going to kill it?"

He tugged his scarf down to his chin. "Of course, Taloc. Every one we find that comes this close to the village. You see a Cryptid, you catch it, you kill it, before it can metamorphosize."

"But..." He was barely larger than the curious creature trapped behind those silver bars. It didn't look any more threatening than an arctic hare, yet its cryptic nature was clear. Where it touched the silver, the skin blistered - the usually silken white fur dulling and clumping around it.

It had two antler nubs, feathered wings too small for flight, the front paws of a fox, the back legs of an owl, and a fawn's tail. But its face was unlike any creature the children could name. Something like a rodent, and something like a beast - with a short fuzz of hair that made it stand out against its thick hide, as if it were wearing a mask. It had the front-facing eyes of a predator, the nose and ears of prey, and the teeth of an omnivore. Their father had always warned them of the teeth.

"They bite you, they mark you. They metamorphosize, and it'll be too late."

"Can I do it, Pabi?" Mikii beamed, bouncing up on his toes.

"You're still too young, but I can show you the best way without getting bitten."

A silver blade shimmered in the morning light. Taloc didn't dare to watch, though there was no way to avoid listening.

The sound of a heavy object crunched down on the freshly-fallen powder. "Collapse the cage, like so..." The metal sang. "Pin it to the floor." The creature squeaked, the scratching and scraping of its claws falling silent. "Now ready your blade, find this spot on the back of the neck." Taloc held his gloved hands over his ears. "And..." There came a scream, then... silence. Taloc glanced over his shoulder. The white of the snow was speckled black, and the tip of the blade as well. His father cleaned it off in the rushes.

"Is it... dead?" The younger son whimpered.

"It is. Here, come take a look."

He edged his way closer, holding his breath and gulping down the taste of bile as he stared at it. It lay still on the floor of the cage, mouth hanging open, with its black blood staining the fur at its nape.

"This is how you know a Cryptid from an animal. Their blood is like ink, and contains many toxins, meaning their flesh is not safe to eat. But we can make use of their pelts - they have an inner and outer coat that is very waterproof and serves as a good insulator. More so than bear hide." He said, while opening the cage and dragging the carcass onto the snow. "Before we do, however, it is a tradition of our clan to pray for its soul, that it may be shepherded safely to the stars." He pulled a strip of leather from his neck, which had a token dangling from it, embossed with the symbol of the Herdsman - the clan's patron spirit. He held his hands together in prayer, forming an 'O' upside-down with his fingers and thumbs, with the token dangling down in the centre. His eldest son copied the form quickly.

Taloc's fingers trembled within the wool lining of his mittens. He would not close his eyes like his kin, instead fixing them upon the creature. The skin was already beginning to freeze in the biting air. The gesture seemed so hollow - what use to the divines was such senseless murder, even if it should mean better survival odds for their people?

Pabi finished his prayer, snapping back to focus. "Taloc, remember that Cryptids are not evil by nature, but their blood is like a venom - poison that should, unchecked, render them into demons. We pray for their innocence in this state, we kill them because it will not last."

He pulled a second, curved blade from his belt. "Mikii, bring the sled. Taloc, watch carefully. We have brought death to this creature, still that is no excuse for letting what we can use go to waste. We carve to keep the coats intact." Keeping his hands well from the face, he positioned it better on the ground. The black substance in the snow had crystallised into needle-like blades.

"See this?" He picked the trap back up, pointing to a melted point where the Cryptid had pressed its body into the bars. "This is what I mean when I say they are vulnerable to silver. The purified metal burns the skin and boils the blood, neutralising it. But touch the blood with your bare hands, and you'll be marked. This is why, once the pelt is removed, we need to scrape a silver blade over it, so any residual stains are cleansed."

The boy watched as his father's heavy, pumiced hands somehow worked the knife with grace, like a master woodcarver whittling down the grain. The outer coat was pure white at that time of year - to disguise against the snow, and then the inner layer was nearly black to trap heat.

Mikii dragged the sled over, studying the process with fascination.

"Pabi..." Taloc began, "where do they come from? Cryptids?"

The hunter didn't halt his efforts, though they slowed slightly. "No one knows. Some say they come from the ice; in the deep nights of winter when the sun is gone, they carve through the frozen ponds, and drag themselves onto the snow. But most say they are made from the frozen-hearted. When humans go missing in the mountains, the dark spirits that dwell in the shadows invade them. They are driven to madness - lost and cold and starving... They die, and the Cryptids are born of their remains... Yet they have souls - the Herdsman comes for them just like any other."

That last thought left a deep hurt in his heart. Taloc and Mikii had lost their older brother, Wena that past winter. He had gone into the mountains with a group of hunters looking for elk, and he had not returned. The others hadn't told the children, but they'd described in detail to their father how he'd slipped on the cliffs and fallen in a gully. They'd tried looking for him, but when the long night came, they'd given up. There was no chance of him surviving until the thaw.

Their father finished carving off the pelt, laying it over the pallet on the back of the sled. "Now we can take this home, and your Abbi and sisters will stretch it. They can use it to make clothes, boots, or bedding. We must bury the carcass - nothing will touch it except the worms." He pulled a spade off the handle of the sled and began digging. "While I do this, go on and check the rest of the traps."

Mikii ran off in a hurry to find his next trap. Taloc was less eager, though he remembered where he'd left his at least.

Silver wasn't so easy to come by, and so they only had six traps between them. It was rare to catch more than one per trip, and so he muttered a silent prayer that the rest be empty.

The one by the brook remained untouched, and the brook itself was frozen over. Then the one by the forked trees was also, thankfully, unsuccessful. But his chest ached as he approached the one by the snowberry bushes. He recognised the scratching and struggling, the little squeaks it made as its body pressed into the bars.

Please just be a fox, please just be a fox... It wasn't a fox. This Cryptid was smaller than the other, and it was missing one of its back legs. The instant it noticed Taloc, it flew into a frenzy, burrowing at the metal though only making its paws burn and blister.

He wasn't sure what came over him. Perhaps because it couldn't possibly be a threat in its current state, or because it was so emaciated. He checked over his shoulders, and using a long stick, pushed against the latch holding the door closed. It fell open with a crunch as it met the snowy ground. The creature froze, its nose twitching between the open door and the human child lurking nearby.

It crept out, groomed itself for a moment, then stared straight at him. Taloc panicked. What if it flew at him? Had he made a huge mistake?

It approached, slowly, sniffing the air and tilting its head to cautiously observe. It lay down, paws forward, catching its breath.

Taloc heard his brother's voice calling for him. He tried to shoo it away, all the while avoiding making too much noise. He needed it to run away, and he needed to retrieve the trap, or else his brother or father may figure out what he'd done.

"Taloc! Did you find anything?!" Mikii's voice, louder and closer now, sliced the air.

The Cryptid suddenly flinched, its ears flat against its skull. Either it understood Taloc's panic, or picked up on the threat of more humans approaching. In one swift movement, it scrambled its feet, zig-zagging in a blur of white, and disappearing into the bushes.

Taloc didn't waste any more time, snatching up the trap, and brushing the snow clear of prints. The metal was cold even against his padded gloves, but fortunately there was little evidence of the creature struggling inside it. He gathered his nerve just as Mikii appeared through the trees at his back, a look of triumph filling his small features.

"Look, mine caught a hare!" He held up the dead animal by the ears. "We can make stew!" With his own traps slung over his shoulder, he gestured to the empty ones around Taloc's feet. "Aw, tough luck. Come on, Pabi should be done by now, and the wind's picking up, so we should head back."

"Coming!" Taloc fought to keep his voice steady as his eye returned to the bushes. He worried the Cryptid he set free would suddenly reappear, and expose his crime.

As they headed back, his mind raced. He'd lied. He'd freed a monster, defying his father's explicit instructions and years of teachings. The empty traps were a sign that there were no other Cryptids this close to home, but he knew that sign was false. There was still one out there, alone, hungry, and potentially ready to transform.

His father's words echoed in his ears, "You see a Cryptid, you catch it, you kill it... They bite you, they mark you. They metamorphosize, and it'll be too late." He quickly checked his hands for bites. He never put his hand close enough... but what if there'd been blood on the cage? What if it had turned around and nipped him while he was distracted? Or more to the point, why hadn't it bitten him?

As they met up with their father and began walking home, Taloc clutched the empty trap close to his chest, wondering if the creature would do the kind thing and stay far away, or come looking for him? And if it did, what would that mean for his people?

***

A day of chores and one piping hot bowl of stew later, and nightfall came by mid-afternoon. While the grown-ups held a meeting in the hall and the children played, Taloc had asked to go to bed early. Throughout the day, the idea of the Cryptid lurking in the woods and fields around the village was never forgotten for long. He was only seven years old, and so could justify an early bedtime, but he ended up just laying in bed beneath layers of warm blankets and hides, the sound of a fire crackling nearby, adding a hum to the cacophony of his racing thoughts.

He was about to drift off when he heard the dogs barking. They cut through the muffled songs coming from the hall, and the dwindling flames of the hearth.

Taloc shot upright.

The dogs' formed a chorus - not a few barks of correction when one tries bossing another around, but a warning - snarling and snapping, paws pattering against the packed snow.

"What's going on?" Taloc heard his mother shout from the other room through the cracked door, as she'd been mending clothes by the fire.

Taloc threw off the hides, raced into the same room and to the door, watching the dark beyond the warmth of the pyres, and into the wall of shadows where the trees grew. The dogs were on their haunches, snapping up a tree at something hiding in the upper branches.

Light spilled from the hall, as shouts cried from within, and the men poured out, following after the dogs - taking up spears and bows as they did.

The creature... it was looking for him. Taloc knew with a sickening certainty. It hadn't marked him physically, but perhaps from meeting its eyes, perhaps from how it had laid down before him, akin to a hound choosing its master, it had chosen him.

"TALOC!" His mother hissed as he threw on his boots and coat and took a few steps outside. "Come back here! Don't go out there!"

He couldn't just stay put. It had come because of him. Someone would figure it out - someone would know it was his fault. "I need to see! I have to-" He was gone before she could grab him by the arm, rushing through the dark into the trees after the dogs.

The creature was on the move. He hadn't known they were such good climbers, but maybe it wasn't that... He'd never seen a Cryptid metamorphosed... Perhaps... Perhaps it could fly.

The dogs' attention was split. Another one? He hugged the shadows and followed his instincts, something calling him to keep to the trees instead of chasing after the dogs and men into the meadow.

Taloc stumbled over a tree stump, tumbling through the brush and scratching up his coat. His hood was thrown off, his long hair tangled in thorns as he scraped his cheek against a pine. He was bruised, sore all over, and his face burned from the cold, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Something heavy hit the floor. He gasped, blind in the dark, seeing only two glittering yellow eyes staring down at him. When he tried to get up, he found himself pinned, as another landed behind him, snagging his coat in its claws. Taloc screamed, and it shrieked.

This was their true forms. Not small, not harmless-looking or easily mistaken for animals... It stood taller than a man when on its hind legs, and larger than a bear on all fours. They were long, and slender, with great wings for flying, and tails that had sprouted feathers. Their claws and talons were longer than spearheads, and he imagined their teeth would be the same.

The one ahead of him fell to all fours, creeping over to him with its head cocked either way, while the other at his back sniffed at his hair. Taloc's heart raced, his heavy breaths turning to sharp puffs of steam against the biting cold. He wanted to scream again, but he hadn't the energy, instead, he just muttered, his words spilling out like the tears that streaked down his face, "no no no no no no, please, no no..."

And the one approaching him stopped. He opened his eyes, meeting theirs. For a moment, he thought he was dead already. Then he saw through its front legs that it only had one at its rear.

"It's you..." He shivered. "Did you... did you come for me?"

It... chunnered, playfully. And it seemed to have something in its teeth. It came closer, its head lower than its shoulders, as if studying him. Its face came within an inch of his - he felt its breaths against his scratched cheek. It dropped the thing it was holding on his lap, then pressed its forehead to his.

It drew back for a moment, still staring into his eyes... And then the sound of barking dogs and the howls of men drew near, and he watched its pupils narrow with the approaching firelight. Both dashed off into the trees, the glow from the moon and the stars just managing to catch their hides as they found a clearing and took flight.

Taloc looked down at what the creature had left for him. It was a token on a snapped strip of leather, embossed with the Herdsman's symbol, and slightly stained around the edges, as if a bloodied hand had gripped it, hard.

He hid it quickly as the dogs surrounded him, pressing their wet noses into his skin, then following the footprints left in the snow. Firelight lit up the white ground, and a set of thick, strong arms lifted him up from the cold.

"Taloc!" His father cried, pulling him in. "What are you doing out here? You could have been killed!"

"But-"

"Go home, now! Before you get hurt!" He set him on his feet and followed after the dogs, the rest of the hunters tailing him.

Taloc regarded the token in his mitten once again... the same as his fathers... the same as his brother's.

"Wena...?"