The Hunter

A Chapter by Luna Pyron

Chapter 1 of 'Amasia'

The Southern Ocean was always cold, especially at 700 meters deep. The one exception was in early Spring, when one of the Northern Ocean currents swayed southward for a few weeks before making it’s way back North.

The weeks in the early Spring when the warm current is at it’s lowest is when the Critoe Fish make their yearly migration into their spawning grounds. This was also the best time of year to hunt them.

Lomat Knew this as well as any Ceran hunter and he had arrived at the current early, when the current was still dipping south. He would be the first hunter of the season. He didn’t expect to find any fish here yet, but he was prepared when he caught the scent of a lone Critoe Fish on the current. He checked his spear and rope to make sure they wouldn’t tangle during the hunt then slid down a boulder just out of sight of the approach fish and waited. It took longer than he thought for the fish to swim past his hiding place, but a long wait was worth the end reward. Most hunters traded their catch for a larger share of some other type of fish. Critoe Fish were a sea-wide delicacy. Lomat was one of only a few hunters who caught them to eat.

The fish continued down the current while Lomat swam out from behind the rock and followed it. He held his spear firmly and swam closer. The Critoe Fish was only swimming at a leisurely pace, takings it’s time to stop and nibble at a few deep sea crustaceans. This early in the season the fish were slow to react. They hadn’t yet gotten used to the Ceran Hunters yet and were easier to catch.

Slowly Lomat closed the distance between himself and the fish. When he judged the distance to be small enough he raised his spear, aimed, and threw, all in one quick motion. The spear caught the fish in the eye killing it instantly. Lomat swam to his prize and pulled it off of the spear. It was a good size, maybe the length of his arm, and fat, it must have been putting it’s sharp little teeth to good use.

Just as Lomat was tying the fish’s tail to his belt a flicker of movement caught his eye. To his left a second Critoe Fish, smaller than the first, had seen him and was swimming quickly away in the opposite direction. It was unbelievable luck to catch two Critoe Fish this early in the season and Lomat raced after it, determined not to let it get away.

The fish led a path through a patch of deep seaweed that bent and swayed in the ocean current. The growth severely limited Lomat’s sight, so he closed his eyes and let his nose do the hunting.

The fish was quick, darting in and out of the seaweed to lose it’s predator, but the seaweed posed no real hindrance to a Ceran and Lomat let the tall plants flow under him as he swam.

The weeds ended abruptly and the fish’s scent dropped. Lomat opened his eyes and saw the wide open ocean ahead of him. Below, a sheer drop plummeted into a giant ocean trench where the fish was swimming down into the shadows.

Lomat dove after it. He knew he could out-swim the fish now that there was nothing for it to hide in, but if it reached a certain depth he would be forced to turn back. Lomat’s gilled flexed and pulsed on his neck. His webbed hands pushed against the water with broad strokes. He reached out to claim his prize.

Suddenly water rushed past him in every direction, sucking him down into the dark.

‘I went too far!’ Lomat thought as he remembered old hunters tales of deep sea tides. Tales of hunters who strayed too deep and were pulled down, never seen again.

With a sudden burst of rage and determination Lomat fought the water. He slashed at the tide until he was once again sure he was facing the surface, then he kicked and clawed his way upward through the raging water that held him.

The current finally let go and Lomat shot upward. He knew something was wrong seconds before he broke the surface of the water and flew several feet out of the water. He landed with a splash in waters far warmer than they should be. They smelled different. They even sounded different if Lomat listened closely enough.

The currents were gone, there was no sound of swaying seaweed, and the roar of the ocean had been muted to a soft sigh.

A sharp roar cut into the silence of the water. Lomat turned and saw a large, bowed monster slicing across the surface toward him with surprising speed. Even a Ceran could not out-race this monster. Lomat drew his spear and aimed at the thing’s white belly.

As the monster sped into range Lomat thrust his spear up into it’s underside with all of his strength.

The spear snapped off at the point, and the spearhead spun end over end, impaling itself in Lomat’s chest igniting an excruciating fire. The force the monster struck the spear with pushed back at Lomat with a shocking severity that spun him around and the monster sliced savagely at his leg with a claw, scaring a deep wound.

The monster sped away, seemingly uninterested in it’s wounded prey.

Lomat righted himself painfully and smelled his blood in the water before he saw it. The cut on his leg was deep. Lomat knew if he didn’t get out of the water soon the smell of blood would draw large predators looking for an easy meal.

Lomat swam to the surface, every stroke and kick sent shards of fire through his chest and leg. He grimaced against the pain and swam harder. Above the water Lomat could see clearly that the water ended on a rocky shore only a hundred yards away. As he began to swim for land the water became soft and thick. It felt as if weights had been chained to him, pulling him down again.

Lomat pushed on. A wounded animal did not survive in the water, but it might on land with time to heal and rest. Blood dried on land. If he could survive until then he could survive any land predators that found him.

By the time he made it to the rocky shore the water was as thick as syrup and the warmth he had first felt had turned icy. As he tried to stand the cut on his leg burned and bled. Lomat growled at the pain and defiantly limped inland.

The rocks transformed into a field of grass and tall trees shaded the whole area. The grass was soft and fresh. Lomat wanted to rest in it, but ahead he could see a line of square cut stones embedded into the ground. The trees only shaded some of these stones, the rest had been warmed by the bright sun. Rocks absorbed heat and stayed warm for a long time. Lomat was so cold. The chill of the water hadn’t left him yet. The warmth of his blood was leaving him still. He wanted the warmth in those stones.

Lomat limped to the closest sunlit stones and fell onto them, hardly seeing the world around him. The stones were warm on his chest. The spearhead pierced deeper and he winced in pain, but it wasn’t as bad as before. It too was fading into the warmth of the stones.

The stones felt so nice he couldn’t bother to move.

Didn’t want to move.

Even after the darkness came the stones still felt warm.