Circut Hunt

Dem stood at the edge of the clearing; several miles of wooded highlands were in front of him. Rolling hills were covered with a canopy of surprisingly short trees, given the size of the forest. "Finally, something other than grasslands."

Telo stared at the landscape, not trying to hide how jealous he was. "Lots of the circuts will get stuck in trees, so keep a sharp eye."

Dem nodded. "Anything else?"

Telo glanced around the crowd until his eyes landed on the Whitehill group. "Tier is here, but he's unlikely to start anything given his broken nose."

Dem shrugged slightly. "Not worried. Why didn't they heal him?" The Whitehill teen's nose was swollen, and it looked like he would have two black eyes by morning.

Telo shamelessly grinned at the Whitehill group. "Their Shaman could do it, but she refused. She said it's a good lesson about knowing when to shut up."

Dem felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "What's that?"

Telo gave him a blank stare for a handful of seconds before a howling sound made everyone turn. "Ahh... They are casting the Air magic. Come on."

Dem let himself be pulled along by the arm. "Let's find my dosu."

Hundreds of tribals were heading toward the staging area, so even if Telo hadn't known the way, it would have been easy to find. All the clan banners were flapping in the breeze above two groups. Four shirtless men stood in a circle, their voices raised in a chant that only mages understood. Above them swirled a vortex of wind, like a miniature tornado. The second group were females, women of different sizes and age with painted bodies. They swayed as if sharing the same rhythm.

Dem spotted Ai and Tam standing with Telo's dasai; all three carried bows. "You three ready?"

Ai smiled and nodded. "Last year, I had to sit with a boy from the Windfire clan. All I can remember is his horse laugh and gapped teeth. I punched him when he tried to kiss me later." She shuddered at the memory.

Tam's dark face held a bit of anger but no sympathy. "You had it easy. My 'guest' threw up all over my best clothes!"

Telo snorted but held his laughter when he noticed Yena's worried expression. "It's fine, dasai. I'm sure someone nice will find yours. Maybe it will be Dem."

Yena's pale face blushed slightly; unlike Ai and Tam, her complexion consisted mainly of freckles. She held up the arrow with a small wreath attached to it. "I put in a few red feathers and scented it with lilac."

Telo was going to tease her but refrained when he noticed she was being sincere. "Don't worry. I won't leave your side if you end up with some strange person."

"Thank you, dosu," Yen muttered.

"I don't know who Teya and Ravyn are," Dem was just starting to learn the faces of the Swiftwind clan.

Ai pursed her lips slightly. "Does it matter?"

Dem shrugged slightly. "If I watch them shoot, I may be able to get a general idea of where to search."

Ai shook her head. "They are fired too fast; besides that, the fog bank will prevent anyone from tracking the arrows. Impossible, even for you."

"Maybe," Dem replied. "Aren't I the best dasai?"

"Yes, the very best." Ai's dark face lit up when she laughed. "We'll get them to shoot with us. Will that help?"

Dem nodded.

"They're forming up," Tam smiled at Yena. "You can stand with us."

Dem looked questioningly at Telo. "What now?"

"Just watch," Tel gestured toward the half dozen lines forming.

The chanting of the Air mages grew louder; the tornado widened a bit before tilting until it looked more like a wind tunnel. The first six maidens in line advanced until they were directly in front of the aberration that hung about five meters off the ground and extended thirty meters or so at a forty-five-degree angle. All six bows 'twanged' simultaneously as they fired into the twister.

Dem's sharp eyes focused on the arrows. They entered the wind tunnel and then accelerated beyond what any bow could manage as six separate streams exited before disappearing into the night sky. He whistled softly. "That's impressive."

Telo nodded in agreement. "We'll move to the starting area after they fire."

Dem glanced at Ai; she was in the second firing group with Tam, Yen, and three others. Ravyn was easy to spot; her pale hair marked her as belonging to the Frostridge clan. "That's one; where's the other?"

Telo leaned closer and lowered his voice. "The Bearclaw clan are the abnormally large tribals you see wandering around. Your target is in the far firing lane."

Dem pursed his lips slightly. She was a full head taller than Telo and had broad shoulders. Her sleeveless shirt displayed bronzed skin stretched taut over corded muscles. "I see."

He focused on the arrows as the bows were raised. Time seemed to slow down when they were suddenly released into the sky. His sharp eyes followed the projectiles entering the air tunnel; an instant later, his vision brightened considerably as he tracked the streamers. All six headed to the northeast section; the odds of that happening seemed too high to be a coincidence.

"Tam used her air ability to group the arrows before they entered the air magic. She seems like a rule bender." Telo turned away from the maidens. "Let's go."

Dem fell in step beside the taller tribal. "Does that mean you don't want me to put in a good word for you?"

Telo's face split in a wide grin. "I'll take the help and thank you for it."

They walked a few hundred meters to where a long line of pole torches had been lit. Only a few dozen men were standing around, most talking with friends. "I thought there'd be more."

"There is," Telo answered. "They'll release wreaths for the next half hour, a few thousand at least."

The constant hissing sound of arrows speeding through the sky lasted for several minutes. The howling sound of air magic ceased within seconds of the last arrows.

"This is my favorite part," Telo pointed to where the Shaman was gathered. "Spirit magic..."

Within moments, clouds formed in the distance. Thickening and climbing upward until they started to roll toward the woods.

"That's impressive," Dem muttered. The clouds moved forward, obscuring everything in its path. It washed over the crowd of circut hunters and continued onward into the woods.

When the clouds of obscurity finally settled a few minutes later, a dense blanket of fog covered the entire woods. The starting area was mostly clear, but if you walked thirty meters toward the trees, you'd disappear.

"Seems especially thick this year," Telo noted.

Dem stared into the fog-covered woods. According to Telo, the bark was heavily gnarled, and low-hanging branches made climbing easy.

Dem was jostled on either side; however, he wasn't bothered. As a street rat, he had lived in close quarters with many miscreants who'd kill, rob, or maim you for a few coppers. He bid goodbye to Telomere.

"You there! Little man, want to team up with my group?" A tall, rail thin, tribal with eyes too close together asked in a nasal tone. "That will make five in our group; I'm paying one gold to each member, provided you give me the first circut you find."

Dem shook the hand the man offered, then did the same with the tribal's friends. "Sadly, I'm already obligated to meet up with someone after the start."

The narrow-faced man scowled. "Your loss, little shit."

Dem watched the group push their way through the crowd, his face expressionless. "My gain, you mean." He obscured his actions with his hands as he consolidated their leather pouches into his; the clink of coins calmed him.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell gonged three times, signaling the start. Dem started running immediately, more out of necessity than purpose since the choice was to move or get trampled by the stampeding tribals.

Dem sped up as the tree line grew closer, weaving his way between the running tribals; heading northeast, he put on a burst of speed when he entered the wood line.

A tree appeared directly in front of him; dodging to one side, he barely slowed. Then, a moment later, the dull thud of a body impacting a stationary object sounded. "Was I being followed?"

He weaved in and out of the trees for the next few minutes. During this time, he spotted one circut, but he didn't bother to pick it up. After some time, he finally slowed to a walk, his sharp ears listening for any sign of pursuit.

Relaxing his breathing, he continued to the northeast, focusing on all of his senses. Gradually, the area around him sharpened as if responding to the sudden glow in his eyes. The back of his neck heated up like the sun beating down at midday.

By the time he arrived in the area he was targeting, only the barest amount of fog obscured his vision. He stopped at the base of a tree about a meter in diameter. Effortlessly he climbed upward, his mind dwelling on the alley back in Thaigmaal. An approaching sound was enough reason to duck behind the tree's thick foliage, even though he knew logically the fog should be covering his presence.

"I marked Reyka's circut while we were talking. It's this way." Tier Whitehill jogged steadily through the trees while holding up some sort of cylindrical object to his eye. Two teens were following in his wake.

Although tempted to impede them, Dem decided that accomplishing his own mission took precedence. He took a few moments to break off a small branch; since the tree was green, he had to twist it several times to get the piece he wanted. Then, hefting it in one hand, he nodded to himself and descended toward the ground.

After twenty minutes of searching, the size of the task at hand was beginning to look momentous. The sound of other hunters faded as more discovered unclaimed circuts. Inevitably there would be a loud exclamation of victory, then shortly after, the sounds of fighting.

It was the slight smell of lilac that Dem noticed first. He focused on the scent, narrowing his concentration until everything else faded away. The air around him thickened until the smallest tendril of a purple ribbon appeared in the air. An instant later, he vanished into a pile of clothes.

"Shit..." The black rat scurried from under his clothes; his fear dampened substantially by the changes around him. His vision filled with dozens of thermal images, most above ground but quite a few above. The purple 'scent' ribbon now pulsed as it stretched into the distance.

After a moment of thought, he decided on a course of action. He made two trips to the top of the nearest tree and stashed his clothes where they wouldn't easily be found. He paused at the top of the tree, staring at the marks he left in the bark. His claws had pushed through the wood like it was made of butter.

The rat laughed at itself, although the sound it emitted would have made the average person flee. "I'm a street rat!"

The rodent bolted after the lilac trail, weaving in and out of the heavily forested area much faster than any human could run. Having seen hundreds of rats in Thaigmaal, Dem knew that he was four or five times bigger than any he'd ever heard of.

"Damn." Dem found Yena's circut; shortly after, he located both Ai's and Tams. It was then he noticed the glaring issue; he couldn't carry more than three circuts in his current form. Quickly he returned to the tree where his clothes were hidden and stashed his bounty.

Backtracking, he returned to the previous area to resume his search. "They might have already been found." He was considering his best option when his sharp hearing picked up the sounds of fighting. Dem vanished in a blur of movement and, within seconds, arrived at the disturbance.

"Fucking Switftwind Clan!" Tier's fist slammed into the younger man's stomach, causing him to sag into the two tribals holding him up. "You can give Dem a message for me!"

Yanz hurled the last of his most recent meal before spitting on the ground. He was bleeding from the nose, and one eye was swollen shut. "Give it to him yourself, Whitehill bitch!"

Without thinking it through, Dem flashed past Tier, his claw slicing entirely through the tribals calf like he was cutting a cake. Then, he disappeared into the brush before spinning toward his target.

Tier's blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the woods. Although beaten, Yanz took advantage of his captor's distraction, slamming his head back into the face of one before kneeing the other in the groin. Within moments the tide had turned as the tribal viscously kicked the downed Whitehill men.

The street rat watched from the undergrowth. Yanz spared no one, making sure to stomp on Tier a few times before stepping away. Then, without investigating why his opponent suddenly collapsed, he fled deeper into the woods.

After his clansman left, the rat approached the downed men. Tier was still out while the other two moaned into the grass. Dem understood rivalry and bullies, so he paused short of doing something irreparable. "Oh... What do we have here?"

A circut had been tied securely to Tier's belt; with an effortless slice from one paw, Dem rid him of his prize.

Within seconds, Dem's search for the last two circuts resumed. He found the Bearclaw circut by accident after ducking under a deadfall tree. It had been lodged against the splintered trunk where it would have been invisible to someone standing.

"My luck seems to be h..." A wave of nausea swept over him, causing him to curl into a tight ball. An instant later, his entire body contracted, wracking his body in mind-numbing agony.

Dem rolled onto his back a minute later, his chest heaving as if he'd been holding his breath. He struggled to his hands and knees before emptying the contents of his stomach into the weeds.

"Gah... That was unpleasant," Dem stood slowly, glancing down at his bare feet. "I hope my clothes are still where I left them."

With two circuts on his person and three more stashed with his clothes, Dem felt satisfied with the effort even if he hadn't managed to bring back the Frostridge circut.

The naked street rat reclaimed his clothes a few minutes later, tucking the four circuts in his belt; he hefted the club left behind and decided to call it a night.

Walking back to the starting area, Dem carefully navigated around several groups that were waiting in ambush. Apparently, once the rush to grab was done, the next step in the tradition was theft.

"How was your luck, little man?" A familiar nasal voice called out from behind a stand of trees. The thin tribal and his small group spread out when Dem approached.

Dem grinned at the leader, "couldn't find a fifth member? Maybe I could be generous and share."

The man returned his grin and nodded. "You have a circut?"

"Actually, I have four of them." Dem appeared in front of the speaker before he could react and stabbed the end of his blunt weapon into the man's groin. Since the other three were slow to respond, he followed up with a knee to the thin man's face.

"Bastard!" The largest of the three charged forward, swinging ham-sized fists like he was a windmill.

Dem moved forward, striking at the side of the knee, the neck, and finally, the temple in a movement too fast to follow with the naked eye. His target dropped face down like a sack of chicken feed.

"Stop!" One of the remaining tribals held his hands out and eased back several steps. He had seen the knife fight earlier and witnessed how his group members fared against the young Swiftwind. "We'll leave."

Dem shrugged slightly and waited until they ran off before he searched their friends. "And that makes six." A finely weaved circut had been tucked behind the thin man's belt.

"You okay?"

Dem looked up when Yanz approached from the west. "Sure... I'm heading back."

Yanz nodded in agreement and fell in step with his clansman. "I hope your luck was better than mine."

Dem noted that there appeared to be more wounds on Yanz's tanned face. "You didn't get any circuts?"

"I got two... Or at least I had two. But, unfortunately, both were taken from me before I could retreat."

Dem handed him the circut that he'd taken from Tier. "Enjoy your dinner with Reyka Frostridge."

Yanz's mouth dropped open in surprise, but he made no move to take it. "I can't accept that, Dem."

Dem showed him the rest of his circuts. "Help me out sometime, and we'll be square."

A slow smile spread across Yanz's face. "Fine. Don't be polite next time you need something."

Dem smiled and handed him the circut. "Let's get these turned in before we get assaulted."

The fog faded away as the two tribals ran toward the start; once they arrived at the clearing, the danger of being attacked was gone. A large was corded off; the perimeter was lined with torch-wielding guards. Yanz and Dem made their way to a single tent in the center, where the judges waited.

"What's next?" Dem asked since Yanz was probably better informed than he.

"Inside will be a table in front of three Shaman. They'll direct you from there. Come on; we can go at the same time."

Dem nodded and followed him into the tent. The warmth surprised him, as did the slight fragrance of lavender.

Yanz sat his circut on the table in front of the two Shaman. "Yanz Swiftwind, turning in my circut."

"Welcome, Yanz." The painted woman picked it up, smiling slightly at the woman beside her. "One of yours, this belongs to Reyka Frostridge."

Dem studied the two women while they directed Yanz on where to meet his dinner companion. Perhaps the paint color was unique to the person; one wore a pale red while the other was yellow. To his knowledge, the Swiftwind Shaman always wore white. After a few moments, Yanz left the tent, leaving Dem alone.

"Demitri Swiftwind," he bowed politely. "Turning in my circuts."

The pale red Shaman blinked in surprise when he placed his bounty in front of them. "Did you rob someone?"

Dem gave her an innocent look. "Me? Who could I rob?"

The Shaman laughed loudly; the sound of it made Dem smile. "Let's see what you have." She picked them up one at a time, pursing her lips after the first two. "Ai and Tam Swiftwind..." She glanced up at him, noting his complete lack of surprise. "How'd you manage these two?"

Dem shrugged. "Found them both in a tree."

"I see," the red Shaman said. She glanced down at the remaining circuts; "Yena Redfox, Teya Bearclaw, and Ravyn Frostridge."

Dem hadn't realized that the circuit he took from the thin tribal was the one he couldn't find. He smiled at his luck, pausing to glance over his shoulder. "The Swiftwind Shaman is here."

A few seconds later, the slim form of the white-painted Shaman stepped into the tent. "Did you hurt anyone?"

Dem waited while she approached. "Not really. Perhaps a few bruises."

The Swiftwind shaman examined the circuts before making a sour face. "Both Ai and Tam? Did they put you up to that?"

Dem nodded. "Sure, but finding them was luck. I didn't use any special tools."

"Special tools?" The yellow Shaman leaned closer, both elbows planted on the table. "Was someone cheating?"

Dem placed the cylindrical object he stole from Tier on the table.

The yellow Shaman picked it up, taking a moment to look through it at the circuts Dem had turned in. "None of these are marked." She turned slightly and glanced at the stack of turned-in circuts. "But that one is; Reyka Frostridge."

The Red Shaman frowned at the mention of the Chieftain's daughter. "I sense Tier's idiocy all over this thing. The boy can't even cheat properly." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before tossing the circut back onto the stack. "I hope you taught him another lesson."

Dem smiled but didn't answer. The red-painted woman was obviously the Whitehill Shaman.

The Swiftwind Shaman clucked her tongue at him. "We'll have Yena, Ai, and Tam all eat together. You may join them for a short while. After that, you'll spend the rest of the evening divided between the Bearclaw and Frostridge Clans." She ruffled his hair before pushing him toward the exit. "Stay out of trouble."

Dem stifled a yawn; it was going to be a long night.