Hunting the Star-Caller: A Story of Mara (preview)

Chapter 6: Gabriel

Snap!

The wyvern screeched and sniffed the humid air as it stood up from the nest of dirt it had excavated out of the forest floor. It spread its thin fleshy webbed wings, stretching them out after – what looks like – an afternoon of napping. Wyverns are typically nocturnal hunters given their large eyes and charcoal black scales that run down there back, wings and tail, but it wouldn't mind catching an afternoon snack. Its long neck began twisting around, swinging the head back and forth as it searches for the noise that woke it. That noise would be the sound of my boot snapping a rather large twig.

Close as I am going to get.

I slowly lower myself to a crouch and steady the crossbow in the nook of my shoulder. Sweat drips down my forehead as I exhale the air from my lungs. The metal trigger is smooth and cool against my hand. I make an educated guess where the beast's heart resides – this would be the first time for me to kill a wyvern. Unfortunately at the moment that spot is covered by the rest of his body. The crossbow sites scan the beast's body looking for a place to bite into first settling on a soft spot. The wyvern looks away from my direction, opening up the spot between his neck and shoulder where the scales aren't as large and thick.

I squeeze the iron trigger to the wooden stock. The crossbow reverberates in my hands as the bolt is thrown forward and into the thick air. It spirals neatly as it passes by the moss covered trees. Two heart beats pass then the bolt barriers half of itself into the shoulder of the tan and black lizard. It straightens its neck pointing its nose to the sky and lets out a screeching howls that sounds like a mix between a piss off blue jay and a hurt wolf.

The wyvern starts working on taking out the protruding object out of its body at a frantic pace. It starts to uses it opposite winged arm to claw out the bolt piercing its scaly hide. Wyverns are the stupid, tiny cousin of pure dragons. And unlike true dragon that have four legs and a pair of wings, wyverns only have a set of hind legs and bat like arms. Three of the fingers are extremely elongated and have webbing stretched between them while the thumb and first finger each make a nasty claw. Though wyverns might be stupid the beast is still three times my own size and has venomous fangs that can kill a mammoth. The steel bolt falls to the mossy forest floor, the wyvern roars at the tall pine trees trying to scare off the attacker it can't seem to find.

The beast springs up and with a single flap of its charcoal black wings, causing leafs to stir and swirl in chaotic patterns away from the nest. It lands on a few branches twelve or so feet off the ground sinking its claws into the wet bark.

"SSKRRAAAGGGGHH!" the wyvern warns. The screeching howl makes his throat ripple.

I quickly load another crossbow bolt, this one coated in a Spine Frog toxin. Now that the beast is above me I can get a better shot at the softer belly. The thicker scales I hit earlier stopped my previous bolt from digging deep enough for a poison tip to be effective. I start running from tree to tree bringing me closer to improve my chances. As I move I keep making sure to have the crossbow ready and my body hidden by the trunks of the trees.

The wyvern senses my approach and leaps to a different tree, its two hooked claws on both wings latch on to the wide trunk, his belly presses against the bark. It lets out a long low hiss, challenging me to a fight for the territory. Little does the beast know that this isn't a fight for mating territory but a fight for the opponent's head.

The thick leather boots snap more twinges and crush dead leaves as I charge into the fight. I feel my long braid slapping against my back and the wind passing over my exposed arms. The wyvern spots me as I emerge from the tree's cover, hisses and leaps from its lofty perch – the gender is exposed when he leaps. His jaw opens wide exposing his fangs. His wings are spread open a bit to help carry him the distance needed to plunge his rear leg claws into my chest.