The Wild Hunt
(c) 2009 by Maura Anderson, all rights reserved
Night was closing in fast and the dense shadows thrown by the huge trees overwhelmed what little light was left in the deepening gloom of dusk. Limbs twined and wove in intricate patterns against the indigo sky like skeletal arms reaching for the full moon just emerging over the valley’s rim.
A bone-deep chill moved in along with a heavy fog that roiled and writhed along the uneven forest floor, disguising everything underneath it until the bracken, fallen leaves and paths seemed an unearthly landscape. The large rock I perched on was adrift in a sea of mist and a shiver ran through me, despite the warm clothing I wore.
The peace I should have felt while holding my Samhain vigil was nowhere to be found. My visualizations and meditations deserted me and instead my stomach churned with a sense of foreboding, of fear. The night sounds of the forest grew fewer and fewer until only a silent stillness surrounded me; my racing heartbeat all I could hear.
The final rays of the dying sun ebbed from the sky and the world seemed to freeze. Then in the distance I heard the mournful sound of a horn, long and low, sending a shiver through my entire body and soul. I wanted to run, to flee the area but I couldn’t even see the ground, let alone make out the path I’d taken to get here. If I got down from my rock, I’d be lost in minutes.
Drawing my legs up to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them and tried to calm myself. Surely I was just imagining things. The mood was getting to me and I was letting my imagination run wild. A full moon on Samhain night was rare but it was just a matter of coincidence, not a special time for magic.
The horn sounded again, closer this time. And again, even closer. Now I could hear rustling and howling, as if wolves were baying in painful and savage delight. The Wild Hunt was running – toward me.
Maybe if I stayed as still as possible, the huntsman wouldn’t see me. If he noticed me, I might become his own, destined to spend the rest of eternity running as his servant. I made myself as small as possible and hoped the Hunt would not continue in this direction. Head tucked against my knees and my eyes shut tight, I prayed to the Goddess. Oh, how I prayed.
Hoofbeats and howling came nearer and nearer, filling the forest with their noise until they were so loud they had to be near. Unable to resist, I lifted my head and saw a huge horned figure on a massive steed formed of storm clouds and lightning. He waved a spiraled horn of silver over his head and thundered past, running atop the mists and fog. Around him wove a pack of wolves, some black as night and some grey as mist, but all with eyes that glowed with the magic of the full moon and the madness of endless servitude.
The great storm steed reared back on his hind legs and the hunter brought the horn to his lips and blew it again, the sound piercing through me like an arrow of icy terror. His scarlet-red eyes glowed with the fires of his blood lust. He hunted this night and he hunted me.
I tried to choke back my gasp but not in time. The horned hunter turned and when his red gaze met mine, I knew my fate. He pointed toward me and blew his horn again. The wolves gathered around the boulder and, one by one, they changed from wolf to naked man.
Loading ...
Oh dear, with an ending like that, I am thinking being in the middle of a circle of naked men like *that* might be interesting, so say the least:)
by Rebecca C. Wright October 26th, 2009 at 7:23 am
Wow!! Great imagery and idea. You left me wanting more. Wanted to know what happened to that poor soul discovered by the hunter. Still have the chills from reading it!
by Vanessa October 26th, 2009 at 7:25 amThanks! I’m really glad you enjoyed it!
by Maura Anderson October 26th, 2009 at 10:17 amAwesome as always! You could feel the chill entering your bones and hear the thundering sound of hoofbeats and wolves running. And, what an ending!!!
by Robin S November 2nd, 2009 at 10:09 am