Jack slept fitfully that night. The image of the slain man invaded his dreams, waking with a sinking guilt-filled pain in his gut. These Hunters were a nasty sort and Jack felt he should have done something more for the dead man. Sleep evaded Jack for the remainder of the night until finally he gave up all hope of rest and dressed for the day.
Jack wandered down to the public room of the Black Dragon Inn and tossed a log on the glowing embers in the hearth. The view from the street-facing window showed the night had brought a light fog with it. Jack hoped it also brought some cooler weather. He fetched a kettle from the kitchen and exited the rear door of the inn.
The water well was situated next to the Inn’s stable. Jack could hear the horses restlessly scuffing and shuffling, in particular, Graywash nickered and snorted nervously. Graywash was a beautiful Friesian who had arrived at the rear of the inn one morning and refused to leave. Taylor, the innkeeper, had asked around Col Ti'er and some of farmers in the outlying area but none could claim him as their horse, though some certainly tried.
Nardst, the stable manager and Taylor’s brother in law, adopted the magnificent animal. Many fights and arguments can be attributed to the ownership status of Graywash. Taylor wanted to sell him at the market but Nardst had said you don’t sell a fine gem at a brothel. Graywash, Nardst claimed, was the most intelligent, fierce and powerful horse he had ever encountered. He once, in a heated exchange with Taylor, claimed Graywash had the ancient soul of a noble knight and to sell such an animal would make them no better than the cursed slave-traders.
The horse’s whines seemed out of character so Jack passed the well and eased next to the closed stable doors. He had instinctively adopted a cat-like stealth, holding the kettle away from his body, and peered between the wooden slats that formed the stable walls. Graywash was in the back stall shifting from leg to leg and fluttered his ears. Jack’s hand was reaching for the door latch when he heard the man’s voice.
“What are we waiting on? That is the beast. Slice its throat and be done with it.”
Jack’s hand froze and he slowly lowered the kettle to the ground. He slid away from the door and around the corner of the stable, stopping at a wooden cask. He listened.
“Confirmation is required.” It was a different man’s voice. “The initial dat-patch indicated capture was the preferred recourse.”
A gruff huff sounded followed by a sound so strange to Jack his body jerked. It sounded almost like a bird chirp but was definitely not any bird that lived in these forests. Jack glided onto the cask then slid onto the stable’s roof, his movements fluid and absolutely soundless. He moved across the top support beam and noiselessly dropped to his stomach.
Below him Jack could make out three large men, obviously Hunters – the same Hunters he had encountered earlier. One of them had odd, tiny flames of red, green and yellow in his right hand, at least he thought they were flames, but they never flickered nor gave off smoke. The mystery bird chirped again and the colorful flames extinguished themselves with no indication of smoke.
“Order confirmed. Capture is the preferred recourse. Let’s remove the horse in the native fashion until clear of inhabitants. Hunter Onyx, grab a bridle and lead for the beast.”
Graywash neighed loudly and kicked the wall of the stable. Bridles, brushes and tools clattered to the floor. Jack watched from above as the horse reared up and smashed the weak stall door to bits of wood. The black, massive horse charged into the main aisle of the stable and bowled over all three Hunters.
Jack leapt to his feet and dropped to a crouch. He really wasn’t sure what he should do. He had no weapons and begrudgingly admitted to himself he was slightly terrified of both Hunters and horse. Jack decided getting off the roof was his best choice when a loud crack of a splitting timber erupted into the night. The support beam he was standing on listed toward the front of the stable. The Hunters cursed. Graywash whinnied furiously. Jack’s surefootedness failed him for only an instant as the support beam jerked from beneath his feet.
The cheap lumber of the stable roof gave way to even Jack’s thin form. Jack’s hands snatched a rope hanging from the dangling remains of the stable’s vertical support beam. He felt the slack in the rope tighten and wrapped his legs around the swaying beam to prevent the rope from jerking clean from his hands. Jack hugged the hanging, broken timber and looked down in amazement.
One of the Hunter’s head was a pulverized mess where it had shattered apart the bottom half of the beam Jack was desperately clutching. The second Hunter was scrambling across the floor feeling around piles of hay for what could only be a weapon. The last Hunter had a dirk in hand and was cautiously eyeing Graywash. The calm in the Hunter’s eyes was unnerving. Graywash kicked wildly tearing the stable apart. Jack couldn’t tell if the horse was trying to escape, attack or panicking.
As though in answer to Jack’s confusion, Graywash exploded into the stable doors. The force of the impact rocked the entire stable and Jack’s perch swayed and snapped loose from the cross beam. Jack and perch plummeted to the floor. His skill for being agile was well known in Col Ti'er, but it truly was a shame no one but the Hunters and horse were witness to Jack’s graceful landing. His slender, lithe form slid the beam beneath his feet, and the moment the wood struck the floor Jack leapt into the air, tucked into a flip and landed like a cat on all fours.
The dirk wielding Hunter turned to his partner, who had recovered a whip from the stable floor, and pointed at Jack. “Kill him. I will get the beast.” He dashed after the horse through the shattered door. Less than five seconds later, the Hunter was hurled back into the barn and an angry horse roared.
A crack of a whip startled Jack. The whip-toting Hunter was smiling. Jack pushed himself upward to get to his feet. But when he pushed off the stable floor, Jack was lifted completely from the ground and was then whipping in a half circle and literally flying through the now destroyed stable door. The ground was rushing past him as he flew through the night with the back of his belt securely clamped between the powerful jaws of Graywash.
WC: 1,141 
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