Of Blood And Fire by Ryan Cahill (best classic books of all time .txt) 📕

with the utmost care and concentration. He made a point to open the ears, nose, and lips to remove all the excess fat. Without access to salt, he needed to ensure that as little moisture as possible remained to prevent the skin from rotting. Moving their camp out of the cave for the night had the added bonus of avoiding the damp air produced by the moss, and the evening sun was just warm enough to dry the hide without damaging it.

“So, tell me again, why are you bothering to preserve the pelt?” Rist asked. A sharp tssk escaped him. He pulled his finger up to his mouth to suckle on a thin stream of blood that trickled down his thumb – the result of his over eager knife work. He threw a dirty look at Calen when he noticed the smirk on his face.

Dann was splayed out on the ground, head propped up on a thick log, chewing on a long piece of grass. He stared off into the surrounding forest. “Well, after we bring it back, we’ll be declared victors of The Hunt. I can’t see the others bringing back anything bigger than this monster.” Dann tilted his head towards the bear pelt that was suspended in mid-air a few feet away. “After that, there is no sense in letting it go to waste. Father could easily make a masterpiece out of a pelt like that. The gods know we could use the coin.”

Rist let out a mocking snort. “Last night, you were all upset it was dead, and now you want to turn it into a coat?”

“Yes, Rist, I was upset that an incredible creature died. Slowly, and painfully, for no reason, and I was the cause.” Dann’s reply was curt, his eyes still lost in the haze of the forest. His jaw clenched.

“Incredible creature? For no reason? Dann, it was going to kill us. Like, dead. Snap, gone—”

“You did what you had to do, Dann,” Calen interrupted. He gave Rist a look as if to say, please give him a break. Rist seemed to understand, giving a soft nod in reply.

Dann pulled his eyes away from the depths of the forest to look towards Calen. There was a heavy expression on his face. Calen hadn’t noticed the purple rims developing under Dann’s eyes, nor the slumping of his shoulders throughout the day. But when he thought back, he realised that Dann kept to himself most of the morning and afternoon, with few words passing his lips. Considering Calen once witnessed Dann have a drunken conversation with a tree, the silence should have raised some flags.

“Calen, I’ve never ended a life before without there being a real reason. I hunt deer, rabbits, fish… so that we can eat. To survive. That bear was hungry. It came back and found us in its home. We – I killed it. I know it would have killed us if I didn’t kill it first, but… it’s not the same.”

“I get it, Dann,” Calen said. I get it.

Calen tossed another log onto the fire. A soft sigh escaped him as he sat back down onto the spongy trunk of the fallen tree he had been perched on.

They sat in silence as the evening drifted away and the night settled around them. The sounds of the forest provided a soothing chorus as the day’s birdsong was replaced by the soft burbling of the stream as it meandered through the forest, the crackling and snapping of the fire as it consumed the flesh of the wood, and the ever-present buzzing of insects as they went about their nocturnal business. Every so often, the howl of a wolfpine broke the tranquil blanket of familiar sounds, drawing sudden jerks from Calen, Dann, or Rist as they spun around to make sure that the bear hadn’t risen from the dead.

“Guys… I think we may have a visitor,” Rist squeaked.

Calen opened his eyes. A large kat, about the same size as Faenir, skulked around the rim of the fire. Its spotted brown and silvery-black fur caused it to blend in and out of sight with the forest backdrop. Its tapered ears pointed straight up towards the sky, giving the impression that it was always paying attention, always listening. He had never seen a kat up close before. The dazzling yellowish glow in its eyes was hypnotising. The two tufts of fur that draped down past its shoulders on either side of its head gave it a wizened look.

Calen reached for his bow, careful not to make any sudden moves, stretching out his fingertips to wrap around the grip.

“No,” Dann hushed. He was already standing up by the fire, his hand pointing at Calen but his eyes fixed on the kat.

Without a sound loud enough to be heard above the leaves rustling in the wind, Dann made his way over towards the leftover fish they had caught and cooked that morning. It was splayed out on a smooth flat stone by the fire. He stayed low to the ground, with his knees bent and his arms raised slightly in the air, spread out to either side. His eyes never left the kat.

The kat’s gleaming yellow eyes returned Dann’s fixed gaze. An unintelligible purring emanated from its muscular throat.

The kat took two steps around the fire, towards Dann, slow and deliberate. Its head lowered as its back arched. The muscles rippled on its hind legs. The purring deepened, dropping into its chest.

Dann’s eyes narrowed. He turned to face the kat. The light from the fire flickered shadows across his face. He opened his palm and tossed the fish up into the air, to the other side of the fire.

The kat flexed its muscular legs momentarily, then launched itself into the air. The patterns on its fur shimmered in the mixture of moon and fire light as it twisted and turned its torso mid-flight. It seemed to hang in the air for an eternity, as if weightless. It snatched