THE HUNT
The rain had not stopped for hours. A boy standing in the darkness of it all soaking wet the boy’s cloak was, turning dirt to mud beneath his bare feet. Yet, he stood motionless—watching.
The beast before him, a towering bear, exhaled mist into the cold air. Its fur was thick, matted with rain and grime, but its eyes burned with primal hunger. It had sensed him, yet it did not fear him.
A mistake.
Draven tightened his fists. His breath was steady, measured. The hunger in his stomach no longer mattered. The cold nipping at his skin faded into nothing. There was only this moment.
The bear roared, its voice shaking the trees, and then it charged.
Draven didn’t move.
The beast swung a massive paw, its claws like curved blades meant to tear flesh from bone. But before the strike could land, Draven was already gone—his body slipping past the attack like water flowing through cracks.
And then he struck.
His fist met the bear’s ribs with a force that sent a shockwave through the air. The beast stumbled, coughing out a breath as the impact left a deep indentation in its side. But it recovered quickly, its survival instincts overriding pain.
Draven watched, expressionless.
The bear lunged again, its jaws wide, aiming to crush his skull in one bite. This time, Draven stepped forward.
With a single uppercut, his fist met the bear’s lower jaw.
The sound of the impact cracked like thunder through the storm. The beast was lifted off its feet—its massive body hurled back several feet before crashing into the mud with a sickening thud.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Silence.
Draven stood over it, his breath slow and controlled. The beast twitched but did not rise.
It was over.
He did not feel pride. No joy.
Just hunger.
---
THE FIRE
"Draven dragged the bear through the storm, his destination clear. A cave, nestled deep in the mountain, where firelight promised warmth. He set to work."
The flames crackled softly, their warmth fighting against the cold. The scent of cooking meat filled the air, but Draven paid it little mind. He sat cross-legged before the fire, staring at the bubbling stew.
Two bowls. One at his side, untouched.
He was waiting.
A gust of wind disturbed the flames, yet the fire did not flicker. The air itself seemed to bend, as if reality had become uncertain.
And then, he was there.
The angel sat beside him, his presence both peaceful and terrifying. He did not belong to this world—his very existence warped the air, bending the fabric of reality around him. To an ordinary man, the sight would be unbearable.
But Draven was not an ordinary man.
The angel reached for the bowl, his hands impossibly still. As he lifted it, the weight of his presence pressed down, like the air itself carried judgment.
Angel (calmly): **"A bear this time? You grow bolder with each passing season, Draven."**
Draven (serious): **"Bears are strong. I wanted to know if I was stronger."**
Angel: **"Strength without wisdom is a blade without a handle. It will cut you first."**
Draven listened but said nothing. His eyes flickered toward the darkened trees beyond the fire’s glow.
Angel (claps his hands): **"Where are you wandering off to?"**
Draven: **"I often wonder why I was brought here… what my purpose is."**
The angel set his bowl down, his gaze deep, unreadable.
Angel: **"The world is not as simple as strong and weak, Draven. There is evil, and there is good… but sometimes, they wear the same face."**
Draven’s grip on his spoon tightened. He did not look away.
Angel: **"You are afraid of the world. I see it in your eyes. But you are also drawn to it. You want to know it, to understand it. That is not weakness—that is what makes you different."**
The rain continued to fall, but the fire did not die.
Angel: **"Many seek strength to destroy. You seek strength to see. That is why you struggle, why you push yourself even when no one is watching."**
Draven exhaled slowly.
Angel: **"But know this: knowledge is not without cost. The more you learn, the heavier the burden. Are you ready to carry it?"**
Draven (firmly): **"I don’t know."**
A small smile flickered across the angel’s face, as if he expected that answer.
Angel: **"Good. A fool is certain. A wise man doubts. Let your doubts drive you forward, but never let them stop you."**
The silence stretched between them. The flames flickered, casting shadows that twisted and danced.
Then—
A distant sound.
Low. Deep. Almost unnatural.
Draven’s head snapped toward the treeline.
A roar.
But not from a bear.
Something else was out there. Watching.
His fingers twitched with the need to move. To find it. To see.
The angel followed his gaze, but his expression remained unreadable.
Angel (softly): **"Time to rest, Draven. Tomorrow… we train."**
Draven hesitated, his mind still lingering on the sound.
But he nodded.
The fire crackled. The rain continued to fall.
And in the depths of the forest, something stirred.
"This is an original work by [Keanu Chandler Hendricks/Keanu Chandler]. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce, distribute, or adapt without permission."