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

the fish out of the air with its mouth in one smooth motion before landing, without any discernible sound, on the other side of the fire.

The kat bit the fish clean in half, letting the other half fall to the ground. Once it had finished eating what it had bitten off, the kat bent its head down to the ground and picked the second half of the fish up with surprising care. Its eyes locked on Dann again.

The kat padded over towards Dann. Stopping in front of him, it lowered its head and, in almost a tender manner, placed the second piece of fish down on the ground at Dann’s feet.

A soft purring noise reverberated from its throat.

“What in the….” Rist whispered.

Dann reached down for the fish, careful not to move with too much haste. The kat’s head turned, staring with intense focus into the darkness obscured forest. It didn’t move, but the hackles on the back of its neck, all the way down its spine, stood upright. The soft purring changed into a deep, chesty rumble. Calen listened intently, trying to hear whatever the kat had heard.

Snap.

The sound of a thick branch splitting under the weight of something heavy. An arrow flew out from amidst the trees, slicing through the fire and planting in the ground where the kat’s leg had been.

Calen had not even seen the kat leap. Its reflexes were quicker than his eyes could follow. In one bound, it propelled itself clear of the camp and was gone, back into the forest.

“Who’s there?” Dann yelled. His bow was already drawn, aimed in the direction the arrow had come from.

Rist grasped the shaft of his spear with both hands, surveying the surrounding forest. His head jittered from place to place as he searched for any other would-be attackers.

Drawing his eyes away from where the kat had leapt into the abyss of trees, Calen snatched up his makeshift spear in one hand and bounded over towards Dann.

“Guys, I think—” Rist was cut short as a second arrow shot through the trees. Though it was impossible to follow the flight of the arrow in the darkness, a howl from Rist let both Calen and Dann know where it had landed. Calen’s heart dropped into his stomach. He turned to see Rist standing by the fire, his spear rolling along the ground and the shaft of an arrow protruding from his left leg.

“Rist!” Calen and Dann leapt to Rist’s side, stabilising him as he stumbled.

“What the fuck are you doing, Fritz? You could have killed him!” came a familiar voice. Fritz Netly?

“Shut up, Dennet. I would have gotten it if they hadn’t scared it off.”

Three figures emerged from the copse of trees. Calen could only make out their silhouettes in the pale moonlight. One was larger, with thick, broad shoulders. He was flanked on either side by two smaller figures. “Calen, we didn’t mean for Rist to get hurt, I swear it,” the taller figure said. The voice was deep, familiar. Something clicked in Calen’s head.

“Kurtis? What the hell do you think you’re doing? You shot Rist!” Calen lunged towards Kurtis, raising his spear as he did so, his shoulders and arms tensing.

“Whoa! Don’t take another step, Bryer, or I’ll put an arrow in you too.” One of the smaller figures drew his bow and aimed it straight at Calen’s chest.

“Fritz…” Calen muttered, a scowl spreading across his face.

He turned his head, just for a second, to check on Rist and Dann. They were on the ground, Dann cradling Rist’s head on his knee. It looked like he had managed to remove the arrow, but Rist’s breathing was heavy. Calen’s muscles tensed as the rage burned through him. He wanted so badly to rip the smirk off Fritz’s smug face.

“Careful now… He’ll be fine, but I can’t say the same for you if you even think about coming near me,” Fritz said. He drew his bowstring back a little farther to make his point clear.

“Fritz.” Just one word from Kurtis. The meaning was clear: You’re going too far. Fritz just glared back at him. That absent glare always unsettled Calen; the way Fritz’s eyes never seemed to be looking at you, but through you. As if everyone was simply an obstacle to what he wanted. A grin spread across Fritz’s face as he looked past Calen. Something had caught his eye. The bear pelt.

“What do we have here?” Fritz said, the firelight flickering across his face. “That looks like the perfect payment for costing us that kat. Dennet, take it down.”

“That’s ours!” Rist coughed. The pain was evident in his voice.

“No, it’s ours,” Fritz said.

Dennet cut the ropes that kept the pelt strung up between the trees. Then he made his way over to join Kurtis and Fritz, struggling as he heaved it over his shoulder. The clouds overhead had moved on and released more moonlight. Calen could see their faces more clearly now. Kurtis bit his bottom lip as he watched Fritz, who examined the pelt in the firelight, running his hand over the rough fur and the part-dry skin. “Not a bad job at all. This beast must have been huge. A good kill. You idiots must have gotten lucky,” Fritz said. “Thank you very much. There is no doubt we will be declared victors of The Hunt when we bring this back.”

“Burn you all! What is wrong with you?” The venom in Dann’s words burned like a hot knife through his voice.

“It’s simply being smart, Dann. You scared off our kill, so we take yours. Fair is fair,” Fritz said. He had that same cold, calculating look in his eyes. “Now get out of here.”

“You think we’re leaving?” Dann roared, still cradling Rist’s head in his lap.

“Yes, I do. I’ll be nice. Take a minute to gather your supplies. Then start walking towards the mountains. If you’re not gone in five minutes, I will show you how serious I am. I will follow you for a while,