If It Looks Like A Cara But Doesn't Act Like A Cara... Then What Is It?

After the battle of life and death, one of steel and claws

The living who braved the end were all standing around, grasping for more air in their lungs and the thoughts swashing around of what just happened. The guard, who was wiping the slathers of mud that clung to his face, spoke up, his thoughts streaming from his mouth once more.

Robert: (Heavy breathing.) Alvin… I will say it again. What in the flying fuck is that thing? (Distraught; gaping eyes looked to the right leg of the abomination in front.)

No one wanted to even answer. In front of them was the foul stench of the fiend, lying on the cold ground. Its warmth faded from underneath its white fur, blood pouring into the earth and soaking it once more.

The tracker who brought them all to this point spoke up.

Alvin: I believe... (running his tongue over his dry lips.) No. It has to be a cara! (He put his hand up to Robert, knowing he would retort in defiance.)

He knew all too well, and the retort shot at him unfettered.

Robert: A cara! Are you looking at the same thing as I am? It ripped Carl's face off and crippled Uill before we could do anything to stop it. When did Cara start climbing trees like that? So I will ask you again. What is it? (berating voice.) Also, why didn't you notice it?

Once again, the presence of nothingness fell upon them.

The Lord that was to Alvin's left spoke, piling onto Alvin even more with their limited but crucial knowledge of the beasts, all of it slapping the ego of the man who was a renowned hunter in the guild of Droll.

Vayreban: I agree! Last time I checked Alvin, Cara don't climb trees or ambush six people, let alone six armed men; they are wary creatures, not suicidal. If this were the heart of winter, maybe hunger might cloud its judgement, but that beating of cold isn't here yet. (stabbing his sword into its side, moving the fur.) The fur is as bright as snow. Cara are predominantly black, brown, or red, not white.

He moved his blackened sword to his hip so he could pinch his nose as it began to bleed again, cursing the stream of blood.

The man who took the barrage of words stood still, his arms crossed, standing next to his sword that was stabbed into the mud below. Thinking about what everyone had to say, he was not annoyed at the flurry aimed his way. He was absorbing it all, thinking before he spoke.

Alvin: Tell me something I don't know about the cara. (Shooting an eye at Vayreban and Robert, he knelt down.) If you pair have finished letting the steam out, shut up and listen. (Now looking into the intact black eye that was spared Yurn's blade.)

The kneeling man expelled his lungs in a deep breath and continued before anyone could interrupt.

Alvin: Look! (pointing to each spot.) The snout, legs, claws, and fur all have the same characteristics, even the teeth. Without me dissecting it, my best guess (looking at Robert) is that this is indeed a cara, unless it's playing dress-up. (He looked up and away from Robert.) It got the drop on us because none of us were looking up. We were only facing to our left, our right, and ahead; even I was looking down and ahead; not one man was at fault, we all were. I will admit this. Can you? (gazing into Robert's closed eyes.) Cara aren't supposed to climb trees; either it was asleep or... it was a trap from the very beginning.

None of the three men who were listening to Alvin's ideas opened their mouths, all of them knowing the latter was the likely answer to all of their questions. All of them knew that none of them saw it until it was too late.

Alvin: One thing is different... (pointing to the beast's paw.) The claws are edged, like a thick knife; the other caras are all pointed and tipped at the ends, slashing more than hacking. (He looked over to Uill.) That thing sliced his leg off in one fell swoop when it landed. It incapacitated Uill, then moved to Carl in the blink of an eye. Maybe... maybe it's something new, a subspecies, I don't know. (shaking his head in confusion.) One thing is for certain: if there is one, others will be behind.

They all understood the final statement: nothing ever happens once and ends.

Robert wanted to speak again, but the last man standing spoke in a soft tone about something they had all forgotten about, speaking openly in the sea of answers and questions.

Yurn: Forgive me. (holding his hand up.) I know we all have our questions; even though this thing is dangerous, we can all agree that this isn't the time for it. (looking at each man, each nodding back in affirmation to the open question, even Vayreban.) (Breathing in, then out.) Firstly. We need to deal with Uill (turning to the laid-out man on the floor, still breathing). The potion I gave him closed the wound, but sadly, he's lost a fair bit of blood. Then... (looking at the twisted hand trapped underneath the white cara, reaching for escape even in death.)

All the men caught the location of Yurn's eyes. No more questions would be spoken now; no more answers. In the heat of the moment, they forgot about Carl. A pit formed in Robert's stomach as he forgot about his friend. Not out of malice, just lost in the moment, he squinted his eyes, and a tear formed, softening the mud near his eyes.

The men parted, attending to the aftermath of the battle and their questions.

Yurn: Lord, we need your cloak to make a stretcher for Uill.

No answer was needed; the two clasps underneath went clink, and it fell. Just before it touched the soil, the Lord gripped it, slowly draped it over Yurn's arms, and turned, facing Alvin, who was pulling on the leg of the dead animal.

Robert and Yurn attended to Uill, making a makeshift stretcher from the lord's cloak and two large branches, both men working tirelessly, rarely speaking, lost in work and thought. Cutting the thick cloak with their sword at the top and bottom at each corner. They ran the trimmed-down branches through the holes and lifted the sleeping body of Uill onto it carefully as the man groaned, not in pain but out of discomfort from the position the men held him in.

The other two, Vayreban and Alvin, were trying to free Carl from the grasp of the beast once more. Every attempt failed; the mass of the white monster was too much, even for these men. The sharpness of the fur when gripped, the tufts cut into the men's padding on their palms.

Alvin: This is new. (Looking at the shredded leather palms.) I can't grip it. I'm just glad the other one... (He looked towards the broken tree, then a thought shot into his head.) Shit...

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Something nearby could hear the talking of men and the screams from before. So close, yet so far. Sometimes, a jolt is needed to get the ball rolling.

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