Citizen 618 Malbec

Before being a lonely old rexal Malbec was, above anything else, a hunter. Not many would guess that of him, especially not with his outright refusal to hunt anything at all unless absolutely necessary. Too much energy wasted, too much time spent tracking. Malbec had put away enough dracm to feed himself to the end of times had he wanted to, no extra work needed, so why did he have to go out of his way to endanger himself?

Things were different when he was younger though, fueled by courage he had no rights to have. Back then, when he was asked to present an offering to the ancients, Mal was almost excited about it. It was back when his name was still his own, back when had someone called him "Vern" he wouldn't have turned his head towards them. It was easier. Everything was easier, and hunting... hunting was everything to him.

A large stag had been seen wandering about in a nearby forest, a worthy offering indeed. It would be dangerous, but not nearly as dangerous as other hunts Malbec had thrown himself into before just for the sake of doing so. Given that he had a reason and the means to follow through, little could stop him when he decided what exactly he was going to hunt.

He left the safety of his home right as the darkness outside was beginning to lift from The Dome, allowing the first rays of the sun to kiss the ground beneath Mal's paws. No one was working yet, most stirring within the warmth of their beds and trying to build up the courage to leave them in the first place. Not Malbec. Not him, of course. He had been up most of the night to prepare. The Ancients would be proud.

It wasn't the first time he stepped out of his village, nor was it going to be the last. The forest that framed it was familiar to him, often he would stroll along the known paths that cut deep within it. Someday he would hunt on the way back and bring home a feast worth sharing with his friends. Rarely did he sell the meat or the pelts he managed to gather. Money was no issue, and he did enjoy the company his meals brought him.

By the time he found any consistent tracks the sun was already reigning sovereign over the lands below. There were no clouds, and the moon was nowhere to be seen already. It was still early, the sky that should have been fully blue had still hints of warmer colors here and there. Reds, pinks, purples, hadn't Malbec been busy observing the forest's floor he might've considered it a pretty sight.

Staying on paths wasn't ideal, and fortunately, Mal didn't worry about losing his way through the forest he had grown into. He could walk from one end to the other with his eyes closed, and had he needed to, he could have camped within it too. Truth be told, he was ready to do so. To find a specific beast in such a wide area was going to be tough---nearly impossible. That was why when he spotted hoof-shaped prints on the ground he thought it must've been a different animal.

They were large imprints against a soft ground---soft, but not muddy. The beast must have been heavy, heavy enough to spark hope in Malbec's otherwise dull heart. He followed the tracks for as long as he could, cursing under his breath when he lost sight of them before breathing a sigh of relief at the sound of a stream nearby. If he was lucky, the animal would be around it. Setting traps near water sources was always a lucrative option, perhaps, that was how he would get his offering.

Ultimately, traps weren't needed though. Malbeck had just enough time to poke his head out of the underbrush before his eyes landed on the stag he had been looking for, calmly drinking from the stream he heard. Hours had passed since Mal wandered into the forest, but still, he expected such an important hunt to take longer than a day. Not that he was going to deny himself of an easy prize. The Ancient would be proud either way. Or so he hoped.

Malbec readied himself, pulling his bow off of his back and standing as straight as he could without disturbing the foliage above his head. One wrong move, and everything could have gone very badly for him. To track the stag again was unlikely, especially if he scared it with sounds or movement before he could take his shot. One breath in, one breath out, and he pulled the bowstring as far back as he could before taking aim.

In silence, he waited, he waited, and he waited. The stag was drinking, eyes closed in a moment of peace it seemed to be enjoying. Its ears still flickered, listening, and when Mal exhaled a second time the beast stood up straighter.

There, Malbec let go of the string and watched the arrow he had meticulously crafted cut through the air towards his offering. The stag tried to jump into action, but by the time it noticed anything wrong at all the arrow was already sinking into its side. A normal animal would have fallen right then and there, but Malbec wasn't hunting the usual foes. The stag turned and looked straight towards him before charging.

"Fuck-" Mal had little time to react and jump into action. He dropped his bow and moved to the side right as the stag stumbled in his direction, trying to swing its antlers towards what was hiding behind the bushes Mal had used to cover himself.

With little time to think Malbac had to dig into his bag for anything useful at all. Supplies, food, water, and finally, a knife. When he set off to hunt the stag he didn't exactly expect said hunt to end with him having a knife fight with the animal. Still, little could be done to fix his mistakes. By the time the stag charged again Malbec was ready, more or less.

The fight itself, if it could be called such, didn't last nearly as long as it felt. Malbec really thought he must've been wrestling with the beast for hours by the time he finally managed to pin it to the ground and deliver the finishing blow.

It fell to the ground seconds afterwards. It didn't even have the time to gasp for air before death took it.

Around Malbec, the forest was quiet for a moment. A gust of wind forced a shiver to run down his back, cradling his body for only a moment. After that passed, Mal finally moved forward and allowed the sound of the stream to carry towards him again.

As usual, it had been a clean hunt, especially after Malbec collected the arrow he used for his perfect shot. He lifted the stag with a small grunt before turning to carry it back home, leaving behind only a small puddle of blood on the otherwise pristine grass that framed the stream itself.

A worthy offering indeed.

written by: FeralYEEHAW