Cold feet pt 1

In the stillness of a wintry dusk, a man of slim yet muscular build embarks on a solitary hunt through deep, untouched snow. His thick white coat melds seamlessly with the snowy landscape, enabling him to move silently across the frozen wilderness. Multiple belts strapped across his shoulders and waist hold various knives and accessories, ready for any situation that may arise. Despite the snowflakes swirling around him, mocking his efforts, he trudges forward with unwavering determination, the ancient forest of pines and firs looming ominously overhead.

His rough and scarred face serves as a testament to countless battles fought. A thick, short beard and mustache frame his weathered features while his deep brown eyes remain fixed on his quarry with unyielding focus. Each deliberate step taken by the man reveals his unwavering resolve, his body moving with purpose as he relentlessly pursues his target.

As the forest begins to fade behind him, the man approaches the edge of a cliff, where the earth meets the void. His breath crystallizes in the frigid air as he reaches the precipice, eyes burning with the intensity of his pursuit. Cornered against the unforgiving rock stands his quarry—an ethereal yet earthly creature resembling a deer but with a long, furry tail hinting at something otherworldly. Exhausted and terrified, the creature faces its final stand, its fate sealed by the relentless hunter.

Driven by necessity, the man withdraws a net from his weathered coat - a tool of countless hunts. He casts it with precision and the net unfurls, enveloping the creature despite its desperate struggle. The haunting cry of the creature echoes off the cliff walls, a sound that lingers in the cold air as it fights against the inevitable. But the hunter's resolve remains unshaken. After the creature is caught in the net, the hunter pauses, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if searching for something; his breath heavy in the frigid air. His gaze darts from rock to tree, searching for a weapon, a tool, anything that might aid him in delivering the final blow. But there is nothing, only the stark, barren landscape stretching out around him.

A flurry of thoughts and calculations race through his mind, and without a second thought, he makes a reckless decision. With fierce determination, he leaps onto the ensnared creature, his body colliding with its thrashing form. It's a desperate move, one that leaves him vulnerable, but his need to take its life overrides any sense of caution. The creature, though weakened and exhausted, fights back with a wild, primal strength, its limbs lashing out in a frantic attempt to break free. The hunter grapples with it, wrestling the beast with all his might, knowing full well that this could end badly. Without a weapon capable of killing the creature, he risks severe injury, yet he presses on, his desperation driving him to the brink. The scene is fraught with tension, every movement a perilous dance between life and death, as the hunter battles not only the creature but the overwhelming odds stacked against him. Despite the danger, his resolve never falters - his need to take the creature's life, to ensure his survival, is stronger than any fear or pain he might face. 

As the struggle between hunter and creature reaches its peak, the scene suddenly shifts to a completely different man, crouched in a knelt position, poised to leap, as if ready to ambush. He appeared almost a mirror image of the first hunter, yet there was something different about him—a flicker of uncertainty in his dark green eyes. The cliff loomed before him, its jagged edge a gateway to a world where gravity was an unreliable force, shifting with the whims of this strange reality.

He sprang to his feet with a sudden burst of energy, his movements fluid and deliberate. As he ran, the snow crunched beneath his boots, but the sound was quickly swallowed by the eerie stillness of the world around him. With each stride, the cliff's edge drew nearer, but the man's resolve didn't waver. At the last moment, he leaped, and instead of plummeting downwards, gravity twisted, pulling him sideways in a bizarre yet practiced motion.

The younger man adjusted effortlessly to the change, his body moving with the precision of someone who had long since mastered the laws of this twisted land. As he soared through the air, he focused on his target below—the creature still locked in a deadly struggle with the first hunter. The two figures, one human and the other monstrous, seemed locked in a dance of survival, each move countered by the other, both fighting for dominance.

His hand tightened around the spear strapped to his back. In one smooth motion, he pulled it free, the cold metal gleaming in the dim light. He knew he had only one chance—one throw to make a difference in the battle unfolding below. His arm drew back, muscles tensing as he took aim, his gaze fixed on the creature's vulnerable spot. 

The younger man, poised in mid-air with the spear clutched tightly in his hand, the sight of his fellow hunter wrestling with the ethereal creature left him perplexed. How could such a situation even come to be? His mind raced as he weighed his options: Should he throw the spear and risk hitting his friend? Or should he charge towards the pair, hoping for an opportunity to intervene?

In that moment of hesitation, he made the split-second decision not to throw the spear. Instead, he took off at full speed towards the commotion, heart pounding in his chest. As he drew nearer, the creature let out a furious roar and kicked its captor away with surprising force. It scrambled to its feet, entangled in the hunter's net, and began to run - albeit awkwardly - towards freedom.

With cat-like reflexes, the man sprinted forward just as the creature lunged away from him. He pulled a small lever at the base of his spear with practiced ease, unleashing a spring-loaded mechanism that launched the weapon's deadly tip towards the entangled animal. The spear found its mark, piercing the creature's neck and killing it instantly.

Before the man could even make it to the lifeless body, a familiar voice called out from behind him. "Great job, Arne." It belonged to his fellow hunter, who had narrowly escaped the creature's clutches. With a sigh of relief, Arne turned to face his ally, fury etched in his features as he delivered a forceful blow to the other's shoulder. "What are you thinking, Bjorn?" Arne roared, his voice carrying an edge of desperation. "You could've gotten yourself killed! Why the fuck would you jump it unarmed? We've established that normal weapons aren't enough to take down this creature - we need the mechanical ones."

Bjorn, unimpressed by Arne's high-handedness, simply stared him down. Despite his earlier misgivings, he knew he was a leader among their group. As the day wore on, however, Bjorn couldn't help but acknowledge that his decision to take on the creature alone had been ill-advised.

Arne glanced nervously at his companions and asked, "Will this be enough?"

Bjorn offered a terse response: "I hope so. It is a big one."

While he wasn't overly concerned about the creature or the blood staining his hands, Bjorn couldn't shake off the nagging worry that their group might suffer from the mounting fear of hunger.