Chapter 53 Hunt

53 Hunt

In the desolate expanse of the northern continent, where a world of ice and snow reigned supreme, nestled at the base of a towering white mountain, lay a small village. This settlement, home to a population of a hundred or more, boasted a central spectacle—a colossal ice statue impeccably depicting the moon god, Mahu.

More than five years had passed since Maul embarked on his journey to fulfill the destiny bequeathed to him by his mother. The passage of time had etched its marks on Maul's countenance, transforming him into a burly figure with silver-braided hair, a full beard adorning his mouth. Standing at an imposing height of six feet, he stood bare-chested, bearing the visible scars of numerous battles. At his waist, two Viking axes hung, silent witnesses to his prowess.

Alone in his small abode, Maul pondered a safe location for the upcoming hunt for his people. Finding no clear answer, he decided to rely on his usual old method—trusting his keen sense of smell. Rising from his seat, Maul transitioned from his human form to his demigod state—a formidable silver haired werewolf.

Maul had developed a routine of assuming his human guise when in solitude, reserving his demigod form for moments in proximity to his people. This precautionary measure started from a regrettable incident involving humans who share this frigid part of the world with them. Despite swiftly dealing with those responsible, the incident had instilled fear and doubt in his people, even his own children. His human form causes a lot of problems and discussion among his people so to avoid any future trouble, he chooses to keep the human state whenever he is alone.

Opening the door to step outside, Maul was met with the formidable sight of werewolves, each adorned in different-colored fur and armed with various weapons, patiently awaiting their leader's emergence. Unfazed by the biting cold, the werewolves stood bare-chested, donned in minimal clothing to cover their nether regions.

A massive werewolf, his dark hair adorned with streaks of silver, strode forward. Behind him loomed a colossal sword nearly matching his size. Approaching Maul, the werewolf inquired, "Have you decided on the place of the hunt, father?"

As Wulv, his son, conversed aloud, a fleeting shadow of sadness passed through Maul's eyes. Gazing at Wulv, Maul couldn't help but reflect that he was his last surviving offspring. However, a swell of pride accompanied this realization, knowing that Wulv, his son, stood as the mightiest werewolf following in his footsteps.

The werewolves in this icy land matured swiftly, reaching adulthood in just one year, this was a trait they got from there predecssor the wolf. In slightly over five years, their population burgeoned, aided by the blessing bestowed by Maul's mother. Maul, having fathered five children since his journey, saw most of them grow to adulthood only to meet their fate while hunting. The memory of his small and cute daughter being snatched away by a bird haunted him, and the pain resurfaced at the mere thought. Shaking his head to dispel the haunting memories, Maul walked forward, his massive hand finding its place on Wulv's shoulder, squeezing it gently. Pointing at his nose, Maul responded, "No, but I have this."

Addressing the assembly of werewolves, Maul diverted their attention, "Let us offer our prayer to the goddess," before leading them towards the heart of their village.

Acknowledging their leader's command, the hunters descended from the hill, their steps creating a rhythmic crunch in the snow. Maul led the way, caution etched across his werewolf features, as they ventured forth into the frozen wilderness, getting closer to the elusive creature guided by its scent through the ice-covered terrain.

All of a sudden a snowstorm surrounded them, the sudden change in weather caught Maul and his team off guard, a fierce snowstorm swirling around them, obscuring their vision. Reacting swiftly, Maul's command cut through the howling winds, "Make a circle!"

Wulv, wielding his sword, and the other hunters joined Maul in forming a defensive circle. But one of the hunters, caught in the storm's chaotic grip, was seized by a massive paw with icy claws, disappearing from their midst.

Maul's voice, tense with urgency, rang out, "They are here!" The hunters immediately broke the circle, understanding what their leader meant and the imminent threat. With one member lost, only ten remained. Maul divided the group, leading three, while Wulv took charge of the other half.

Maul planted his axes into the ground, conjuring two ice pillars that lifted both teams above the storm, giving them a better view of their surroundings.

Creation is hard, cheer me up!

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