SpookyElk

 Asher punched the tree again, trying to drown the memory he wish would leave him alone. He was unable to stop them back then when the Dire dragged his little sister from his trembling hands. He was too afraid to save her. That was his secret sin. "Big brother!!" He heard that haunting scream again. His fist began to bleed and someone grabbed him from behind. "Asher, stop!!" Patra cried. "Mina...?" He didn't speak that name in years. He turned and saw Patra's crying face, which quickly brought him back to the present. She still had a strong grip on his arms. "Please, stop," she whispered. Saying nothing, he held her close. She hug

 Cleo and Patra finished checking another one of their traps. So far they had a few rabbits and a squirrel, and they still had two more of the large animal traps to check. “Hmm. No luck on large critters lately. How strange,” said Patra as they walked together. “Yeah,” Cleo agreed. “It’s like they just left or something. We used to get deer and hogs before.” “Maybe they’re getting smart. We should try something new, something more daring and-- Whoa!” They stopped at the sight of a messenger robot, a machine built by humans. “Wh-what is that thing?” Cleo nervously

 It had been raining for days, washing any traces away. Tracking would be impossible for most, but some were blessed so richly to hunt, it was in their blood. At this time and place, there was uneasiness in the air of the forest where there was a hidden village of Reiksla. Standing in the doorway of his home, watching the rain, Zacchaeus sharpened another arrowhead, deep in thought. His Reiksla tribe was on alert because of the Dire making their way closer and closer to their land. His ear twitched when he heard a sudden cough. It was his grandmother Phoebe. She had been ill for a while now, which is why Zacchaeus had been hunting for meat

 The moon was full that night with slow moving clouds drawing their dark curtains on its soft light. The wind made the branches gently dance where a young male Reiksla was standing still in a sycamore tree, waiting with a hunting bow and an arrow in his hands, concealed in a dark hunter green hooded cloak. Other than a belt with his knife, it was his only piece of clothing. His glowing green eyes scanned the area below again, watchful and patient. He had to be so because he was a hunter. While he waited for his prey, his mind began to wander... * Like many times before, he came to the woods to escape. He had been going since he was a chil