The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

I fight the intense urge to laugh, and realize my elation might make me sloppy. I have a task to finish and Ninnis is probably wondering why I’m just lying here. For some reason, I don’t want him to know what I can do. Not yet. If they know that I’m different, that I’m strange, they may not welcome me. They may not allow me to offer myself to Nephil. I just can’t risk that yet.

So I turn myself over and stalk my prey.

I can hear their voices now, filtering up out of the valley. They’re deep in conversation.

I take a chance, thrusting myself hard. My body slides over the snow, building speed as I descend. I travel a distance that would have taken an hour to cover at my previous pace, in thirty seconds. As I approach the valley, I make a show of putting my hands on the snow to stop. But this is not what stops me. A burst of wind, like that katabatic in reverse, skims across the snowy slope and slows me to a silent stop.

I pull myself behind a rocky outcrop at the top of the valley wall. I can see them below. It looks like they’re digging a bone from the ice. I recognize the limb as a cresty femur, but this one is old. Fossilized.

If they only knew much fresher specimens still lived beneath their feet.

A quick survey of the valley shows very little cover to hide behind. And the trip back up, with the woman in tow, will be slow. For a moment, I wonder if they want me to fail. Or maybe it’s just Ninnis. Did he devise this test? When I succeed, will he be disappointed?

And I will succeed. There is no doubt about that.

My first task is finding an escape route that doesn’t require me dragging the bright pink clad woman all the way back up the mountain. I turn my attention to the valley, searching for cracks or fissures that may lead underground. Where are you? I think. Show yourself.

A puff of dusty air rises from behind a boulder. I can’t see it, but I know its there. I can feel it now.

Now to address the issue of concealment.

With my head lowered and eyes closed, I create a storm inside me. I see it building like a dark monster, swirling with anger. I see an army of thick snow flakes carried by intense wind. It pours out of me.

My eyes snap open. I’m exhausted. Barely able to move.

What’s happening to me? I think.

Then a shadow falls over me. Then the valley. I don’t bother turning around. I know what’s there, blotting out the sun. When the first flake of snow arrives, I grin and feel a measure of energy return. But it’s barely enough to move, let alone strike.

I hear the voices below, engaged in a conversation tinged with sarcasm, but I can’t make out the words. But a moment later, the man turns in my direction and I can hear exactly what he says. “My... Where’d that come from?”

She says something. His name I think. And then he’s shouting and grabbing a blue tarp. “Wrap up the fossil! I’ll get the other side. Fasten it tight!”

“There isn’t time!” she shouts, and she’s right. The snow and wind descend over them like a crashing wave.

The world turns white. Judging by their shouts, they’ve lost each other in the whiteout. I stand without fear of being seen and enter the valley. As adrenaline rushes into my body, my energy returns. I can’t see the woman, but her cries for help are like a lighthouse beacon. As I run toward her, my emotions soar. I feel the wind kick up behind me, pushing me forward, and when I can no longer contain my excitement I let out a howl. My voice mixes with the rushing wind as my soul mixes with the land.

I remove the hood from my head, unleashing my long red hair. A flash of bright pink directs me to the woman. I approach from behind and with the quickness of a cobra strike snap the hood over her head. I plant my hand over her hooded mouth, stifling her cry to a dull, “Hmph!”

She fights for a moment, but a quick strike to the back of her skull saps her energy. Her legs go out from under her and she falls into my arms. I make for the crack in the valley floor and slide in, dragging the woman behind me. Her thick jacket catches a few times, but the crack opens wide a few feet down, and then we’re through.

I want to remove the hood and look into the eyes of my prey, but I’m not sure I should. Not following the test parameters exactly as described might lead to failure. So I leave the hood on and cinch it shut around her neck. I’ve never been in this tunnel before, but I know the general direction I need to go to find Ninnis again: up.

As I carry the woman deeper, I will the storm to last a few minutes more, long enough for the woman to have conceivably wandered off. Just another victim of Antarctic whiteout conditions.

I find Ninnis about an hour later. He’s still at the tunnel exit, scanning the area below with his binoculars. His distraction is so intense that he doesn’t hear me approach. I clear my throat.

Ninnis whirls around, ready for a fight, but then sees me.

And then the woman.

He is honestly stunned, but not disappointed like I had worried.

“How did you—I don’t—what...” He pauses, shaking his head. “I’m having a hard time believing what I just saw, and what I didn’t see, and what I’m seeing now. The storm, it just came and went precisely when you needed it to.”