The sun roared like the empty stomach of a locust swarm.
"This is so stupid." Another boy who's name Calum wasn't sure of—something like Will—groans.
Had he been in the Hunt long? Calum was usually good with names. It was so hot out today. The glint from the light chainmail they wore stabbed at his vision, and his memory, evidently.
"We haven't seen anything in months, I don't know why Tarif makes such a blasted deal out of these—chores."
"Dancing with treason won't make the time pass any faster, I'm afraid."
Probably-Will rolled his eyes and resigned to silence. Though Calum agreed—there hadn't been a deadwing sighting in almost half the year—he knew how important maintaining the border was. He knew how they'd be treated if Patron Tarif accused them of slacking. He mustn't get distracted.
The path they trekked was hammered into by decades of Black Hunt apprentices assigned to Border Patrol. It was lowly apprentice work, tedious and often unfruitful, no matter how much Patrons insisted otherwise. Two boys left in the morning, two for midday, and four during the night, every day except for holy days. They were two hours into the four hour walk around the Kingdom of Colliste, with farmland to their right and the forest encroaching upon them to the right. The purpose? Colliste had no quarrels, no near enemies, but she did have a relationship with the nearby civilization of welves, one that called forth the Black Hunt to do her biding.
Calum had been in service for almost twenty years, next year he would be eighteen. Right now, the only thing he wished for was that they'd hurry up and reach the city border where the shade sprawled about like cats. His sweat made the nicks on his fingers smart something fierce.
He pushed aside the scarlet nest on his forehead, when he spotted it. Ragged and ripped, hung from the thorn of a wild shrub, there was a feather. It was no ordinary feather, Calum immediately recognized the iridescent sheen, and the fact that when he yanked it free it stretched longer than his forearm.
Will had watched him walk off the trail, and when Calum turned back to show off his prize the other boy started and pulled out his sword. It was a pitiful thing, unfavored among the practice weapons, but he clutched it like gold.
"Where—?" he glanced around frantically, "Calum get back here, you don't know where that thing's been!"
"It looks old," Calum called back, and stared into the woods, "There's a few smaller ones about as well."
Will hesitated, before walking over, his sword still brandished. Calum knelt down into the earth and collected a handful of feathers that weren't covered in mud.
"What's it doing so close to town?" Will asked, Calum could hear a slight tremor in his voice.
"I don't know, but look, the brush was disturbed at some point." Calum brushed his fingers against the broken twigs, "A while ago, it's begun to heal. The scent of beast is long gone."
"What the hell, Calum?" Will grimaced, backing away. "Just tell me these are old tracks, don't be weird about it. I should have listened to the other lads when they warned me about you."
Calum shrunk away, but swallowed the sting and let the distance between them grow. The trees loomed like a muddy cliff-scape, easy to slip off, hard to climb out of. He pulled the feather through his fingers, straightening it out and cleaning it up. Patron Tarif will want to see this. He'll be pleased to have news for the first time in so long, maybe enough to win an extra roll at supper.
He stood and pushed the feather into the loop of his belt where his sword rested, "Hey, wait up!"
The ranks of the Black Hunt lived within the castle walls, they were a renowned force, superior only to the royal militia. It consisted of a few buildings pushed to the edge of the massive cobbled walls, four them housed young men in training, a barn-like structure in the middle served as mess hall and temple, only graduated officers used the private quarters. The last building looked like a church, it consisted of imported marble on the outside and a spacious, warm, wooden interior. Or, at least that's what Calum had heard, he'd never been inside, no one had. The only being allowed in there was the High Welf, who visited occasionally according to treaty to fuel the hunt with information only they could provide.
Upon initiation Calum received the customary brand upon the neck, a four-pointed star, which he and Will bared to the man at the gates, only a few years older than themselves. It granted them access through the gates, where the two of them stripped in the armory, punched in the time of work they'd done, and cleaned up in the barrack's communal pools.
Mess Hall was busy and loud as usual. Four long tables stretched the length of the room, a fifth, smaller one lay parallel to the other, where the four Patrons' seats remained empty for the time being. Calum stared at his empty plate, every day it seems the cooks were later and later.
"Hey Calum," an elbow jutted into his side from the boy to his left. "Put your head in the ground and see if you can find where supper's gone, why don't ya?"
"Buzz off Liam," another interrupted, the only thing he gave Calum was a look of pity.
Calum stood up with his plate, and headed towards the door.
"Careful before you end up feathered and tagged!" Another leered.
Outside a series of bonfires crackled, surrounded by senior officers enjoying first taste. Calum sighed, and wondered if it was worth it to try sneaking into the kitchens to eat alone. He used to all the time as a kid, before staff changed hands and a meaner chef decided he was too old to hide from his Hunt peers. Surely that old fart must've died by now, right? A small smile grew on his cheeks.
His train of thought was interrupted when a large, heavy, startling hand landed on his shoulder. Patron Tarif grew over him, a shrew but muscled man decorated in war roses, a thin mustache, and pointed goatee. Calum found for the few moments Patron Tarif stared at him, awaited a greeting, he couldn't find his tongue.
"Good evening, sir." Calum stiffened his posture and stared at the ground. "I uh, I'm going to Mess and not anywhere else."
Tarif raised an eyebrow, and in what Calum found to be an intimidating drawl said, "My office, cadet, I want your Border Patrol report, then you'll be released for evening meal."
Calum glanced up, alarmed. "Has Will not reported?"
"He has," Patron Tarif offered no other explanation as he turned and walked off.
Calum bit his lip and scurried after.
Tarif's office was bare, which was odd considering it's where he'd lived for more decades than Calum had been alive. There only the oiled, clean, planks that made up the walls and floor, his desk, a few chairs, a furnace that crackled rhythmically, oh and of course. There was the massive skinned pelt of a bear hanging on the wall behind him. Calum shivered.
Patron Tarif folded his rough, weathered hands and stared at him pointedly.
"We were about halfway through the patrol, at the southeast corner, when I noticed the bush had been disturbed by something bigger than a rabbit. There where feathers caught in the rough, I think dried blood too but most had been washed away." His thumbs twiddled together as he spoke.
Tarif's stare was so cold it burned. "It's my knowledge that you said the area did not 'smell' like deadwings."
Calum winced. "I just meant general animal smell, I wasn't serious, sir."
"We've had this conversation, young man, I will not tolerate any more of your jokes—your lies." His fist slammed into the desk, causing Calum to jolt in his seat. "It sows unnecessary unrest and mockery within your groups."
"Yes sir, I understand sir."
Tarif sighed, pressing into the bridge of his nose. Then his body stiffened, and his gaze dropped to Calum's waist.
"What's that, cadet?"
Calum looked down, and saw the feather stuck out from his belt when he sat. He'd forgotten it was there. He pulled it out and brandished it to his Patron.
"Oh, I picked up one of the feathers I f—"
Tarif's hand had come hurtling towards his face before Calum could react. Then he was on the ground next to his chair, his cheek stung like a salted wound. His beat was beating frantically as his brain processed the hit he'd just taken.
"Are you stupid?" Tarif cried, snatching the feather away from him.
Calum watched through the space between his fingers. The shaft of the feathers crumbled underneath Tarif's brute strength and he tossed the pieces into the furnace.
"The High Welf is coming to visit us in a fortnight, and you want to hoard contaminants?" Tarif's burly mitts gripped Calum's arm, pulling him to his feet and up into the air.
He choked back a pained yelp, "S-sorry sir, I won't do it again."
Tarif open the door to his office and tossed Calum roughly out onto the dirt. "No meal, Cadet. Back to your dorm."
The door slammed behind him. Calum, almost hyperventilating, stared at it. He'd made such a mess of that. Slowly, he pushed himself off the ground, nursing grazed elbows and a smarting cheek to go along with the ache in his stomach.
His dorm was a long house, divided into just a few sections with next to no privacy save the three washrooms that were always occupied anyway. It was a barn in a past life, though it still housed a herd of animals. Calum had the lower bunk near one the back walls, but he rarely slept there. It was too close to ground, to vulnerable. There was a loft that used to store the extra bedding until a boy was found to be hiding stolen gold and silver coins up there, he'd nicked them from the officers. It was boarded up when Calum moved in, save for a gap he, and only he so far was spry enough to squeeze through. He'd escaped from older boys many a time by squirreling away up in here, and they tried valiantly to follow, they never could.
Lucky for him there was still, now abandoned, bedding, and when he could he snuck in extra food, and few 'lost' waterskins, and stuffing. It wasn't the same quality as the beds the Black Hunt provided, but Calum found the arrangement much more agreeable. It was his gift from the gods, for in all his years of living there, no one snitched, the officers never found out.
Tonight, when he walked into the empty building, tail still between his legs, his heart dropped into his stomach when he realized the ladder to the loft was gone. Or at least, half of it had been removed, preventing ground access.
The suffocating, panicky feeling built up in Calum's chest again. For a moment all he could do was stare at the damage and bite at the skin around his fingernails. Who'd done this? Was it one of the other boys? The Patrons? Would they check to make sure no one went up there anymore? That was the only place Calum could go to get away, he didn't want to go back to his bunk, waking up with mud, or worse, dumped on him in the middle of the night again. He didn't want to have to shake out any other myriad of 'pranks' played on him because he was seen as different.
Looking around, he realized he could move some of the crates of armor and sword docks to climb up, and did so. As quietly as he could, he built a new, inconspicuous ladder. Relief flood through him when he climbed up and his hand could grasp the last rung.
After a cold, lonely meal, Calum way lying down, wrapped in blankets and curled around himself. Staring through a small crack in the wall, he could see the stars. He could see the sky. He felt the chill of night leaking in, and a wave of peace flowed over him as his anxieties leaked out. What a day it had been, but at least now, it was over.