Gotcha.
Paxton let his arrow fly. The beast began to lower its head just as the arrow hit the side of its neck and stuck there. It let out a howl and rose on its back legs, smacking the protruding object from its neck.
“Yes!” Tiern hissed in excitement.
Paxton’s next arrow was already soaring, but it merely skimmed the side of the beast’s neck this time, serving to further enrage the creature. When it roared this time, voices sounded nearby. The other hunters had heard.
From out of nowhere, Samuel appeared, sliding onto the ground before the beast and pointing his arrow straight upward—a perfect shot. Before he could release, the beast kicked out, lifting Samuel’s body like a rag doll. The man slammed into a tree, collapsing, his neck hanging at a severe angle. Paxton cursed loudly.
“Samuel!” Tiern shouted, but the man did not move. The beast snorted and took several sideways steps, as if woozy. Harrison slipped out from behind a nearby tree and crouched at Samuel’s side. He checked the man’s pulse and shook his head.
The beast righted itself and scratched at the ground, gouging deep marks.
Their next arrows were ready, and the brothers shot together, but it was no use. The beast now protected its soft spot. Their fast-moving arrows merely pinged off its upper chest like gnats. It set its sight on Paxton, giving its tusks a shake, flinging thick saliva, and charged.
Paxton wasn’t fool enough to think he could take the beast on his own, and he knew Tiern wouldn’t sit back and watch without attempting to fight alongside him. That left him with one option.
“Run!” Paxton shouted. The brothers and Harrison sprinted north through the brush, bows in hand, leaping bushes and fallen logs. The beast’s paws pounded the ground and it grunted with each running step.
“Incoming!” Tiern shouted.
Footsteps pounded the ground as hunters seemed to appear out of nowhere, Ascomannians and Zorfinans getting their first wide-eyed glimpses of the beast. Once they were a sizable group, Paxton and Tiern turned, dropped to the dirt, and aimed their bows upward. All around them men were yelling and arrows were flying.
What in the . . . ? The beast was no longer charging them. It had taken an abrupt turn.
“It’s going to the water!” Harrison called.
Paxton should have known—just like last time the beast was injured, it wanted to flee. He jumped to his feet and ran with the others toward the river. A jarring boom and splash sounded from the river, and the beast roared. Tinny voices of rivermen were crying out from boats, throwing rocks and lighting small black powder bombs to toss in the water. The far side of the river was lined with even more townspeople, thrusting fiery torches in the air and screaming curses at the beast that were muffled by the distance.
The beast ran up the riverside, northward, zigzagging back and forth between the water’s edge and the forest, where hunters shot arrows and emerged from the trees with war cries. Any who came near were batted away by the massive, clawed paws, but it never stopped to fight.
It proved to be faster than the men, but Paxton and the other breathless hunters ran on with fervent desperation. Paxton felt a horrible now-or-never urgency in his gut. He’d been the one to injure the beast and he wanted to be sure the job was finished by someone this very night. Watching the beast put distance between them filled him with a sinking sensation.
We can’t fail tonight. We can’t.
Some of the men had to stop, bending and grabbing their knees to catch their breaths. Paxton could hear Tiern’s panting breaths just behind him. To his right were Lord Alvi and Volgan. To his left were Harrison and two hooded Zorfinans.
The beast veered toward the woods again, and this time disappeared into the trees. The hunters followed. As a mile turned to two, the terrain became rockier and steeper.
“We’re nearing the ridgelands,” Tiern said, breathless. They peered at the jagged landscape through the dark. Paxton nodded and Lief gave a grunt.
They ran on until darkness fell and they could no longer see or hear the beast, which had been moving upward, away from the water. It became difficult to discern tracks in the sliver of moonlight. When the group of men stopped to catch their breaths and drink from their pouches, Paxton realized how cold it’d become.
Tiern jutted his chin toward the sky. “Look.” The word came out as a mist of steam in the cool air as he rubbed his hands up and down his arms. Hulking gray clouds rolled above them.
“It will pass,” Paxton said. Annoyance gripped him. He didn’t have time for weather issues. The beast was at their mercy. It was out there, injured, nearby, and it would need to stop and tend to itself soon. Paxton was itching to turn and leave the others, give chase on his own.