HA’RANGIR’S CHOSEN
"A Tale for the Initiates."
Sit… Not near the fire, the Scorekeeper does not care for eyes that need the light to see.
I was younger than half of you when I made my first mark. I have hunted longer than most of you have been alive, and still I remember that night better than any that came after.
The chase ran long. My prey was clever, and I was not, not yet — I lost the trail twice, found it a third time only through spite. By the time my blade found its mark, I believed, the way all of you believe, that the kill belonged to me alone.
Then the strike landed, and I understood I had never been the one striking.
He did not speak. He has never spoken, not to me, not to anyone who comes after. But I felt him in the weight of my own arm as the strike landed, as though the motion had never been entirely mine to begin with, as though something older and far more patient had simply let me believe it was. The jungle did not go quiet. It only became clear, in that single unbearable instant, that something ancient had been counting my steps long before I thought to count them myself, and that it would go on counting, kill after kill, debt after debt, whether I named it or not.
I knelt in the wet dark and made my vow before I had even caught my breath. I have kept it every season since.
He does not run beside you, little hunters. He runs through you. You will feel it the moment your prey dies. And you will never again hunt alone.
I was younger than half of you when I made my first mark. I have hunted longer than most of you have been alive, and still I remember that night better than any that came after.
The chase ran long. My prey was clever, and I was not, not yet — I lost the trail twice, found it a third time only through spite. By the time my blade found its mark, I believed, the way all of you believe, that the kill belonged to me alone.
Then the strike landed, and I understood I had never been the one striking.
He did not speak. He has never spoken, not to me, not to anyone who comes after. But I felt him in the weight of my own arm as the strike landed, as though the motion had never been entirely mine to begin with, as though something older and far more patient had simply let me believe it was. The jungle did not go quiet. It only became clear, in that single unbearable instant, that something ancient had been counting my steps long before I thought to count them myself, and that it would go on counting, kill after kill, debt after debt, whether I named it or not.
I knelt in the wet dark and made my vow before I had even caught my breath. I have kept it every season since.
He does not run beside you, little hunters. He runs through you. You will feel it the moment your prey dies. And you will never again hunt alone.
