Breath

Arthur was deep in the Pines, a massive forest of pine trees that stretched from the fishing village of Fogreach to the Everfrost Mountains to the north. He did a mental check again of his gear. This hunt was no different, he told himself once again. The locals of Fogreach had a small notice board detailing news and current events, all of which were greatly weathered and not current at all. He had no intention of going through the Pines but the notice on that board with the gold offered made him rethink that.   "500 gold for slaying a beast?" he had inquired at the tavern named the Fish Head. The name fit, he had thought at the time; it stunk as bad as one.   "Yessir," said the barkeep. "Though several travelers have tried, none have come back to claim it. You will simply be another in a long line of bones in the Pines."   "No, sir," Arthur had said, "I aim to break that streak and bring you the head of your monstrous villain."   The barkeep had simply shaken his head, probably just as he had with everybody else who had inquired about the beast. "All I can offer you is good luck then son"       That was hours ago when the sun was still moderately high in the afternoon sky. Now the sun was gone and the tall trees of the Pines loomed all around him. The moonlight shined through the trees, casting crooked shadows in the darkness, making it infinitely harder to see.   "I knew I should have waited till morning to do this", Arthur thought aloud, "Damn foolish pride..."   Arthur continued, his short bow drawn and at the ready. His fingers twitched at each sound the forest made. He was much too eager to draw and fire, he knew he had to calm his nerves but this forest....there was something about it that was getting to him. Arthur had been hunting for years, decades even. While monster hunting was relatively new for him, only in the last two years, he had found he was quite skilled at it. From dire bears to wyverns, Arthur has earned a decent name for himself as a man who gets results hunting savage beasties. While Arthur knew it was far too much to think his fame had reached this small town in the middle of nowhere, he had hoped his appearance would at least earn him something more than just good luck. At 45 years old, Arthur was a seasoned man of the world. Calloused hands, tanned skin, and enough scars to learn and live through his mistakes, Arthur felt he was ready for nearly anything the world could throw at him. But this...   "There it is again," Arthur thought.   A smell. A tiny wisp of rank meat on the air. He had been doing his best to follow this scent for the last hour, knowing that rotting meat either led to or brought in monsters. Arthur picked up the pace to keep up with the scent. The wind was blowing it toward him which meant he was downwind of whatever was behind the smell, something he was grateful for. It ensured that he would be sneaking up on whatever might be feasting on the meat and he hoped the powerful stench would be masking whatever odors he was making himself. Before he had set off into the woods he had doused himself with an oil of his own making, something to help mask his scent. It had worked to near perfection on his other hunts so he made sure to dose himself for this one. For whatever lurked in these here woods must have spooked the village something fierce to warrant such a reward. Five hundred gold was huge, especially for a tiny village such as Fogreach. That was probably every scrap of wealth that town had, plus extra.   To his left, a twig snapped   Arthur turned with practiced haste, drew an arrow from his quiver, and fired into the darkness. Silence told him he missed. Quickly he drew another and slowly began to turn, searching for his quarry. Squinting and using every bit of light available to him, Arthur scanned through the Pines and saw nothing but dark trees.   "Calm yourself buddy" Arthur sighed, "We can not let this---"   The smell came again, this time stronger. It permeated the air around him, surrounded him from what felt like all sides. It reeked of decaying meat.   Again the stench wafted through the forest, heavier this time, clinging to the air like death itself. Arthur's breath caught in his throat as a new sound emerged from the silence--a faint whisper, barely audible, like the rasp of something breathing in the shadows. His neck prickled, every hair standing on end. Cold sweat trickled down his temple. The hunt was over; he could feel it. No longer the predator, Arthur realized with a sinking dread that he had turned into the prey. The fetid stench pulled through the air again, stronger, thick with decay, accompanied by the whispered growl. Closer now. Louder. Ragged, like the shallow breathing of something enormous. He stepped back, heart slamming against his ribs in terror, and his back collided with something solid--something warm. Something alive.   In that moment he knew.   Knew that he had failed and that the tavern keeper would keep his gold.   Knew that he would soon be added to the pile of bones within the Pines.   All this he knew.   Especially when the hot, rank breath ran down his backside.