“The Hunt” — FWG Flash Fiction for 5/3/2025
Rob Johnson- May 9
- 2 min read
This is a mood piece that could be the opening of something longer.
The prompt is:
THE HUNT
The storm began as the sun set. The light coating we trudged through all day was annoying, but didn’t slow us down that much. Swirling clouds overhead and face-stinging snowflakes promised a blizzard packing a punch. I called a halt and signaled to the crew to make camp.
The latter was unnecessary, really. My crew—two bowmen, two swordmasters, a healer, and…whatever Janney was—knew the ropes. We’d been hunting the Cu Sith for over a year, so a simple hand signal spoke volumes. Working in silence, in minutes we had our shelters up and secured against the strengthening wind.
Janney wiggled her interlocked steepled fingers, and I signaled back a little. The snowfall was getting heavier, and I knew we’d be hunkered down in our tents before long. Touching her partner, Sallomena’s, shoulder, the two set off in search of firewood.
We set up camp on the edge of a clearing under the overlapping, low-slung branches of a stand of hemlocks, which provided better shelter than our light tents could manage. In the center of the clearing stood an ancient, gnarled oak tree, obviously older than the pine forest surrounding it. Janney and Sallomena found plenty of deadfall under its twisted branches for our campfire.
Janney worked her magic, and we soon had a roaring fire to cook our rations and warm our tired bodies. Set just outside the hemlocks’ natural roof, though, the flames fought a losing battle against the ever-increasing onslaught of fat flakes falling from the fierce ferment above.
The sweet scent of oak smoke and full bellies soon had heads nodding. Drawing hot stones from the dying embers, we retreated to our bedrolls. I retired alone, as I had since the Cu Sith took my beloved Sarrath. In my dreams, though, we hunted together again.
THE END
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