The Rules of Blood Chapter 14 - Hunter and Hunted

As the eyes vanished, Blanc took an arrow with his wounded hand and nocked it as fast as he could.

The arrow, now ready to be loosed at any mont.

The branches where the beast was now stood still, and the lynx was gone.

But Blanc knew the beast’s eyes were all on him.

So, they began their dance of hunter and hunted, neither one of them unsure of which was which.

I can’t stay here for too long, I need to move, thought Blanc, as he kept on turning around, trying to see the beast.

He began walking, slowly, deliberately, silently.

As all the marks he ever gathered, all the strength, senses, and instincts of the wild, were now a part of him. And he planned to use them to his advantage.

A twig suddenly snapped behind him.

With a spin, he drew the arrow and was about to lose it, when… nothing.

There was nothing there.

So he kept on walking backwards, trying to climb the hill he had earlier moved around, to get a better sense of his surroundings and to have the terrain advantage.

There was movent in the corner of his eye just for the slightest mont, yet, once more, when there should have been sothing, as dictated by Blanc’s instincts and Marks, there was nothing.

He was being played with.

But that distraction made him trip on a root and fall backwards, hitting the ground hard, but, with a roll to the side and a push of his hands, he recovered quickly back on his feet, nocking the arrow again, watching his surroundings.

With a grunt, not from any new wound, but from frustration, Blanc began walking uphill, yet there were no signs of the lynx.

Earlier, scratches on the bark of a few trees told him everything he needed to know. He was standing in its territory.

So he knew he wouldn’t be leaving here today without an additional Mark and a beautiful pelt, or without his life.

The adrenaline that was building in him gave him awareness he never knew he had. Combined with the Marks, he felt like a predator of his own, every sound echoing louder in his ears, giving him just the courage he needed.

He was now on top of the small hill, overlooking anything below. But he still did not manage to find sight of the lynx at all.

The rustling of a leaf resounded like thunder when it fell to the ground.

The snap of a young twig above sounded like a threat to his overly sensitive ears.

And a threat it was.

As he locked eyes with the lynx, he saw it jumping towards him from a branch above, aiming straight at his neck, going for the kill.

But Blanc did not allow it, in a rush placing the bow and nocked arrow between them, as he did not have enough ti to lose it properly, hoping that it would at least wound the beast.

But the lynx did no such thing.

With a swift swipe of its paw, it knocked the arrow clean from the bow, sending it skittering off to their right. In the sa instant, its leap arrived at its destination.

Crashing straight into Blanc.

He hadn't even realised its size.

A full 30-kilogram beast, until the two of them were tumbling to the ground in a blur of fur and force.

The lynx growled as they stopped, back near the place where Blanc spotted the carcass.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not ant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

It recovered quicker, quicker than Blanc at least, as it began moving again, circling Blanc, trying to find an opening, to bring an end to the hunt.

But he did not stay idle either, as monts later, he began getting up, trying to find a way to defeat it.

Both he and the lynx were having the sa, and only, thoughts in mind, to kill the other.

The next mont, the lynx pounced.

Once.

Twice. Trying to close the gap between them.

But Blanc did not give way, swinging the bow and screaming with all his might as he realized he could not nock another arrow with the hopes of keeping it away long enough to kill it from a safe distance.

Then, out of nowhere, the lynx did sothing Blanc would have never expected.

As it stopped pouncing, it ran, circling him a few tis before jumping on the trunk of a tree, then jumping once more towards him.

Blanc reacted quickly, using his bow to block the lynx’s snapping jaws and redirecting its weight downward.

The beast crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.

But it wasn’t down for long.

It sprang back to its feet almost instantly, far too fast for Blanc to act.

And now, he was without his bow.

His only ans of keeping it at bay was now on the ground, feet away from them.

The lynx hissed at him as it walked, looking for an opening in a now, roughly breathing Blanc, who was weaponless. It knew this could be it.

So it charged. Another jump, aid straight for his throat, but the attack was blocked by Blanc’s left hand, as he put his forearm in the beast’s mouth.

Its fangs dug deep, through tunic, skin, and flesh alike, almost arriving at the bones, trying to pry away, the taste of fresh blood filling the lynx with vigor once more.

But the vigor did not last for long, as the knife Blanc had sheathed on his back had found a new host for the blade.

The lynx’s throat.

The beast fought, as it gurgled on its own blood, still trying to pry away from Blanc’s hand, but its strength was wavering, its end drawing close.

With a scream so visceral and full of wilderness, Blanc pushed the blade deeper and deeper in its throat until the light vanished from the lynx’s eyes, and its body grew limp.

But Blanc’s scream didn’t stop.

It tore from his throat for several long seconds before finally fading. When it did, he wrenched his arm free from the lynx’s jaws.

The pain hadn’t fully hit him yet, as his body was still thinking about survival, too focused on staying alive to feel the full weight of the wound.

He had no thoughts, no excitent, nor relief; he was a beast, a predator that killed another predator. And now, the reward ca.

He kneeled beside the now dead lynx, placing his hand on its chest, and started absorbing its Raw Vita.

If before, he would have thought about mundane things during the beginning of absorbing it, this ti, he was focused on it from the beginning.

The deafening silence took over, taking his mind beneath the surface of the normal world. The harvesting has begun.

The usual stiffness of the body, the slowing of the breathing, and his chaotic mind returning to a slow rhythm, as the muscles in his body stilled, locking him in place.

If before the Raw Vita was the prize, this ti it was an addition.

The greatest prize Blanc had received, or more likely kept, was his survival.

And once more, the air began shimring as the faint mist-shaped serpents of crimson and amber wilderness rose from the lynx’s chest, flowing, in the sa beautiful dance as before, towards Blanc’s chest.

The serpents began to pulse as they touched his chest, taking after the beating of his heart. The harvest had been completed successfully.

But there was sothing new this ti, as red mist rose from his forearm, the places of his wound from the fight with the lynx before suddenly stopping.

He did not feel the wound anymore, nor the blood flowing from it, but he couldn’t check now, as the new Mark showed its presence in him.

He felt his mind getting sharper, thoughts coming in more clearly, pictures of events that had happened before, more clearly in his mind.

He felt his eyes getting steadier behind his eyelids, way better than before.

Then, he felt as if he was the lynx itself, a hunger deep in the pit of his empty stomach, the desire to protect sothing of his, that it was rightfully his, and then anger.

He returned to the surface of the normal world, the sounds of nature reminding him of where he was, who he was.

His body returned to normal, without even feeling exhausted from the previous fight, as if he had eaten a full al.

Then he rembered the weird occurrence, so he took what remained of the sleeve on his tunic and began rolling it up towards his elbow.

And as he rolled, his eyes grew wider.

The wound the lynx so graciously offered him on his left hand was now gone, replaced and healed by the outline of large spots on his skin, and they did not replace only the wound.

No, they covered his entire forearm.

On both sides lay large spots, circled by a black line, the spots all around it, without a specific pattern or coverage.

It looked beautiful.

This new Mark of his.

Mirroring the coat of the lynx itself.

But he couldn’t leave just yet. He hadn’t had the chance to fully explore what the Mark had given him.

And the lynx, well, he couldn’t take that back with him.

There was sothing he had to do first, an idea, sothing that had to be finished before he could return ho… to whatever waited for him and his family there.

He felt better now.

More calm and more powerful.