Leaning low on the animal's back, Men Darnak followed into the trees, swerving and leaning out of the way of threatening spines. There, up ahead. The sound of something moving through the dim light off to the left. He slowed his wild charge. Pulling the beast back to a gentle walk. Behind him, came the sound of other animals, the boys, a couple of the men. There was nothing for it now. They would have to stalk the chuckah. Dotted through the damp gloom lay clearings, broad grassed spaces. Men Darnak only hoped he would have the fortune to come across the beast in such a space. By the Twins, he was not going to return empty handed. He slowed his animal even more, then drew it to complete halt, listening. A slight breeze stirred through the trees, bringing with it the scent of old earth and the tang of ajura. Flexing his fingers around the haft of his spear, he waited.
A shout off to the left, somewhere through the trees, then a cry. It was one of the boys. The shiny trunks reflected sound, distorted it deep in the forest, and it was hard to tell which of his sons had cried out. His teeth bared, he kicked his padder, and wheeled it toward where he thought the sound had come from.
"Back!" yelled someone. It was clear enough--Sandon's voice.
He urged his animal forward, faster, heedless of the sharp spines threatening to knock him from the animal's back.
"No, Roge, stay where you are!" Sandon's voice again.
The light grew as he reached the source of the sound, and then he was out, into a clearing to be confronted with?
Tarlain, his youngest, sat pressed back against a tree trunk, his knees drawn up in front of him, a look of wild panic on his face. In front of him stood Sandon Yl Aris, his hands stretched wide. Yl Aris had no weapon. He was merely along as advisor and aide, not expected to take any part in the hunt. Off to one side stood Roge, watching on, without even a spear in his hands. His weapon sat sheathed, still up on his animal and across the other side from him. And in the center stood the chuckah, its flat, bony head swiveling from one to the other. At Men Darnak's emergence, it turned, pawing at the ground, seemingly confused by the array of targets.
Men Darnak was off his padder's back in an instant, his spear held high. The chuckah turned its dark gaze on him for a moment, then thinking better of it, swiveled its attention back to the immobile Roge.
"No, Principal, stay back!" said Sandon.
The chuckah took a step toward Roge, stopped, clawed at the ground. Men Darnak knew if he moved too quickly, the beast would charge, and Roge was exposed, naked, completely unprotected. He hefted his spear, thoughts racing. It was too far from where he was. Besides, the animal's bony hide left few places for and accurate strike.
The chuckah took another step.
"Here!" yelled Sandon. "Here!" He waved his arms.
The beast turned.
"Arghhhh!" shouted Sandon through bared teeth.
And the chuckah charged.
Sandon Yl Aris kept his arms wide, shielding the boy behind him looking on in terror. The chuckah pounded across the intervening space and launched itself straight at the man. Knocking him from his feet, clawing at him and whipping its tusks back and forth. Tarlain scrambled around the tree, away, out of sight. Yl Aris held the animal as a task tore into his shoulder and he cried out.
Men Darnak needed no further prompt. He charged across the clearing as Sandon wrestled on the ground. Lifting his spear high, he saw the spot, plunged it down and deep, slipping between the armored plates. The beast screamed, high, piercing and Men Darnak twisted. It screamed again and fell beck off the man beneath it, raking one clawed paw across Yl Aris's chest. Men Darnak pushed his full weight against the spear, driving it down and deeper, pushing the chuckah, writhing back onto the ground. It groaned, deep, shuddered, twitched once, and was still.
Men Darnak stood slowly, glancing over at Roge. The boy hadn't even moved. He just stood there, a blank expression on his face.
Quickly, he turned to Yl Aris who lay on the ground, an arm pressed against his wounded chest, a grimace of pain on his face.
"Thank you, Yl Aris," said the Principal. He stooped, looking at the man who had just saved his boys. The shoulder wound was deep and nasty. "Thank you," he said again.
"There was nothing else to do," said Yl Aris through gritted teeth.
