Chapter 231

It had been a long time since I'd been able to lead a hunt. Since we had begun our journey in earnest, I had been forced to occupy myself with the less interesting parts of life, such as teaching the common tongue to the swarm, leading the direction we were meant to go, coordinating the ever more segregated sections of the swarm, and whatever else it was that occupied my daily life. 

The closest thing to a hunt I'd been on was the killing of the crocodiles, and while they posed something of a threat, it wasn't a hunt. There was no chase, no glory in it. I was happy to be simply leading the wolfstags on a hunt.

Different from us keelish, though, the wolfstags weren't built to live in the mountains. At least, these Wave Wolfstags, since Arwa and her pups had decided to stay near Sybil for some reason. The Wave Wolfstags' large paws and shorter stature forced the pack to clamber awkwardly over tall rocks, step gingerly through thorny thickets, and struggle to stay together in dry washes. At least in the thickets, it wasn't nearly as common for their horns, which came forward as pairs of several inch-long daggers, to find some tangle of vines nearly impossible to extricate themselves from. Arwa and her pups, though they were much more comfortable in the mountains than their water-based brethren, frequently found their thick clumps of antlers getting tangled in thick brush.

Watching the Wave Wolfstags struggle in the mountains, a part of me wondered if I could somehow incite evolution within them like I had in most of the swarm thus far. I'd yet to feel [Evolutionary Guide] influence my control over them, but I couldn't be sure if that was because they were a different species or because they didn't trust me enough. Of course, it could even be that these wolfstags were simply too settled into their previous paths and now couldn't be so simply twisted to my whims, yet I still hoped that prolonged exposure to my [Skills] and magic would allow me to further impel them towards greater heights.

With that in mind, I thrummed out a tune to the feeling of [Innervating Address] and [Nurturing Enunciation], and felt the pack perk up behind me. I felt uncomfortable about trying to sing them some sort of song about how they should grow more powerful, so instead I simply hummed reassuringly as I outstripped their pace and led us further ahead. The more passive [Skills] of [Innate Leadership] and [Imperial Bearing] involuntarily flared within me, and I felt myself better able to understand what the wolfstags were trying to do and communicate, and our hunt hastened to more smoothly progress.

Before long, my improved vision, under the influence of [Raptor's Eyes], could pick out the shapes of a sort of mountain goat in the nearly sheer cliffs above us. I grinned, and turned to my furry companions. 

"Can you shoot your water?"

…

It was the work of several minutes to fully communicate what I wanted the wolfstags to do, but eventually, they got what I wanted them to do, agreed to do it, and began the task of waiting for me to get into the position necessary for the plan to work. But, before too long, we all were ready, with the wolfstags spread out below and to the sides, in a wide, loose circle surrounding a flock of the goats of about twenty. 

I whistled my signal, and immediately all eight of the wolfstags prepared their magic, balls and spears of water forming between the jutting tips of their horns, just between their eyes. I waited patiently, noting the more aware goats that were watching and waiting to react to the wolfstags' suspicious behavior, but at the point that they could see anything to react to, it was already too late.

In a powerful display of coordination, all eleven of the beams of water surged forward at once, striking at the goats on the periphery of the flock. While the strikes weren't enough to outright slay any of our prey, they were enough to wound these outliers and send the entire group into flight. At the edges of the panicking herd, the wolfstags made their presences known, loudly growling, howling, and rushing forward, forcing the panicking prey to greater speed and flight, rushing up and away from the rest of their visible predators, up the nearly sheer cliff… up towards my concealed location. 

When the first goat came bleating over the edge onto the slightly flatter ambush point, I lunged forward with one hand and buried my claws in its throat. It had been a long time since I'd used exclusively my hands and mouth in slaughtering my prey, and I didn't sink into the impassivity of [Combatant's Bloodlust] for this. Instead, I gloried in the shedding of blood as I effortlessly ripped the throat out of the massive goat. I felt Nievtala's approval as the lifeblood of this prey wetted my face and arms.

Now that I was up and close to it, I realized the creatures were much larger than I'd expected. This one stood about three feet tall at the shoulder, and was far from the largest of the flock while still weighing at least 200 pounds. I didn't, no, I couldn't think about it any longer, instead driving my claws in deeper, hitting the spine as my fingers were completely submerged in the heavily bleeding flesh of the goat's neck. Even with the thick bone serving to slow my slaughter, I didn't activate [Quaking Claw], instead rending my thick, sharp claws through bone, tendon, and tissue with sheer force.

Without further thought, I bodily hurled the goat into the next one, just behind it, throwing both down, off of the craggy cliff, and a part of me heard the meaty splat of two bodies on the ground about 150 feet below as I rushed to the next nearest prey. With a snick of my teeth, a five inch section of its throat went missing, and the goat fell to the ground, twitching, as I swallowed the bloody, tender flesh of my prey and continued forward to the next while blood began to run into my eyes and turn my vision crimson. My prey continued bleating in panic and fear as I continued the hunt. 

Behind me I could hear escaping prey, but I didn't care. Instead, I viciously whipped my tail at one goat just out of the reach of my hands behind me, lashing it hard enough to send it stumbling into another one of its comrades. I lunged forward, my arms, tail and jaws lashing out with deadly precision. It had been a long time since I'd engaged in a true hunt–all the creatures I had slain of late were strong enough to put up a fight, but these goats were only prey. The horns on their heads were nothing more than ornaments to me, and they instinctively fled only at my scent. That I was coated in a fresh patina of their companions' blood and surrounded by their corpses' sent the prey into a full panic. The carnage of this clearing, the bodies, flesh, and blood of my prey painting my scales and the ground around me sent a nearly orgasmic shudder through me as Nievtala again communicated her approval of my actions.

With every one of my strikes, another of my prey lay crippled or dead, and as the last of the fleeing herd made their escape, I couldn't withhold my primal screech of victory. Around me lay strewn the corpses of five goats, and at least three more laid stunned, dead or dying on the unforgiving stone below the cliff. Blood splatters flicked around the light stone, blood pooled under my feet, fresh prey was strewn about me, and I couldn't help but be consumed with the thought:

Yes. This is how it should be.