The Wind's Prey

The forest was a wall of green, sunlight barely filtering through the thick canopy. Every rustle of leaves held a hidden threat, a whisper of danger that sent shivers down the spines of most. But for Pyrrhus, the forest was an open book.

He could feel the life teeming within it, each creature a bright spark in his soul sense. No predators or threats lurked nearby—not yet, at least. The tension eased from his shoulders, replaced by a hunter's focus.

Beside him, Sera moved with the silent grace of a panther, her crossbow a deadly extension of her will. After a few moments, she too seemed to sense the calm. With a practiced motion, she leaned her weapon against a moss-covered boulder and began unpacking her gear. Ropes, stakes, and wicked-looking traps clinked softly as she laid them out.

Pyrrhus watched, intrigued. "Not worried about that creature that sent the Ravager after us?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Sera, tying a knot in a length of rope, did not pause in her actions. "Creature? Those are the Saints of the Forest, kid. They've seen empires rise and fall. They wouldn't break their word," she eyed him up and down, "especially not for a snack."

Pyrrhus crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "A snack? For someone who's seen empires rise and fall, you'd think they'd have better taste. Besides, they might want to watch out. Some snacks bite back."

She threw him a flat stare. "Bram seems to trust them to keep their word. That's good enough for me. He knows more about these things than any of us."

Pyrrhus's eyes narrowed. "What is it, anyway? Do you even know?"

"No," Sera admitted, hammering a stake into the ground.

Watching her methodical preparations, Pyrrhus couldn't help but ask, "You brought enough supplies for a week. Were you planning on staying here for a while?"

Sera shot him a flat stare. "Hunting is tough, kid. It takes patience. Creatures are sensitive to threats. It takes time and preparation."

He reached into his pouch, his fingers closing around a familiar object. He pulled out a thin needle, its gleaming surface catching the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Sera's gaze followed his movements, curiosity replacing her earlier amusement.

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a miniature whirlwind, the needle dancing at its center, a blur of polished metal.

Pyrrhus sharpened his senses, focusing on the faint energy signatures of nearby creatures.

The needle shot out like a bolt of lightning, its trajectory guided by Pyrrhus's unwavering focus. It vanished into the dense canopy, its shrill whistle echoing through the trees.

Sera watched with a raised eyebrow, her skepticism painted across her features. "Heard you've got some magic tricks up your sleeve," she drawled, crossing her arms. "But hunting isn't about flashy spells. It's about..."

A sudden thud interrupted her, a feathered body plummeting from the canopy. Sera barely flinched as it landed with a soft thump at her feet, a curse word escaping her lips under her breath.

Pyrrhus grinned, his eyes sparkling with a hunter's thrill. "Want to see something even more impressive?" he teased, holding up a handful of identical needles.

He released the needles in a flurry, each one whistling through the air before disappearing into the thick foliage. A beat of silence, then a symphony of thuds echoed through the forest. Five more birds fell, their lifeless forms hitting the ground in quick succession.

Sera's jaw dropped, her eyes darting between Pyrrhus and the fallen birds. "Showoff," she muttered, but the admiration in her voice was unmistakable. "How did you even...?"

Pyrrhus shrugged, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I have a good ear for the wind," he lied, hiding his true ability. "I can pick out even the tiniest sounds."

"And you can use that to track prey?" Sera asked, her voice hushed with a newfound respect. As someone who had hunted before, she knew how easy it was to neglect their other senses for sight and how hard it was to enhance those other senses. To do what Pyrrhus did was impressive, to say the least.

"Yeah," Pyrrhus replied, opting to keep soul sense hidden.

Sera stared at him intently, a spark of realization dawning in her eyes. Maybe Waed was right. The kid wasn't just powerful; he was smart. If he was skilled enough to track prey like this, they could revolutionize the way the camp hunted.

"You know," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "Waed's been trying to convince Bram to let you join the hunting parties. If you can pull this off consistently..." Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and hope. "We could finally put an end to those days of rationing. Maybe everyone can have sufficient food."

Pyrrhus felt a jolt of pride. He'd been itching to prove his worth, to show them he was more than just a child with a strange gift. This could be his chance.

The scent of fresh blood drew Finn and Erik out of their hiding spot like hungry wolves. Their stomachs rumbled audibly, a chorus of desperation echoing through the trees. Their eyes, wide with envy and hunger, fixed on the pile of feathered bounty.

Without a word, Finn lunged forward, his hand outstretched towards the nearest bird.

But Pyrrhus was faster. With a flick of his wrist, a razor-sharp blade of wind sliced through the air, carving a deep groove in the ground between Finn and the birds. Finn stumbled to a halt, his eyes widening in surprise and anger.

"Back off, Finn," Pyrrhus snarled, his voice low and menacing. "These are mine."

Finn's face twisted in fury, his voice rising to a growl. "Yours? You little runt, you think you own the whole damn forest now?"

The tension in the air crackled, the forest holding its breath as the two boys locked eyes. Pyrrhus stood his ground, his small frame radiating an aura of defiance that belied his age. "I earned it," he said, his voice cold and unwavering. "You want some? Go find your own."

Erik, who had been lurking behind Finn, stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. "Don't be a greedy brat," he sneered. "Share the wealth."

Pyrrhus's patience snapped. He pulled the bloodied needle from one of the bird carcasses, the crimson liquid glistening in the sunlight. He conjured a miniature whirlwind around it, the needle spinning faster and faster, speckles of blood spraying the air like a macabre rain.

"You really want to do this?" Pyrrhus asked, his voice a chilling whisper.

Finn's face hardened, his fists clenching. "You think a little magic makes you better than us?" he spat. "You're nothing but a spoiled brat with a fancy trick."

Pyrrhus raised the spinning needle, its point aimed squarely at Finn's chest. "I'm a lot more than you think," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "And I'm not afraid to prove it."

*****

A/N:

Apologies for the delay. I was traveling and my car broke down. 😩

I will be releasing the following chapter a little earlier tomorrow.

Thanks for reading Chapter 13! I hope you're enjoying John's journey as Pyrrhus. Your comments and votes really motivate me to keep writing.

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