When the Hunter Falls
Chester lightly scored the severed branch with his machete, shaping it. The blade moved briskly, shaving down the wood with a rhythmic, satisfying sound. He lopped off the twigs, carving the tip of the branch into a sharp point. Monia watched in awe at the fluid, seamless sequence of his movements. Unlike his usual meticulous carving with a knife, this looked almost careless, yet it flowed as smoothly and beautifully as water. How is he handling a machete so effortlessly with just his wrist? Monia knew absolutely nothing about swordsmanship, but she had used a machete herself. She knew firsthand how heavy and awkward it was. It was not a tool meant to be wielded with such casual grace.
Having fashioned a perfectly serviceable wooden spear in the blink of an eye, Chester tucked it under his arm and set to work on the other branches. In no time at all, he had produced five wooden spears.
Next, Chester began carving a sixth branch with considerably more care. Wedging the machete firmly into the tree trunk to anchor it, he drew the branch against the stationary blade to shave it down. Once he had established a basic, comfortable grip, he pulled out his claw knife to refine the shape with delicate strokes. What emerged was a wooden stick with a slight hook at the end—a tool known as a spear-thrower, or an atlatl.
It's a bit crude since I rushed it, but it'll do. It was crude, yes, but it had the right shape. As long as an object didn't require a complex internal mechanism, achieving the correct shape meant the underlying physics would work just the same. And that was more than enough. Just like every other makeshift tool Chester had crafted to overcome their trials on this island, this one would serve its purpose.
First, Chester gripped a spear with his bare hands, opting not to use the spear-thrower just yet, and aimed at a nearby Ant-wolf. Stay calm. He observed their movements. One Ant-wolf sat motionless at the base of the tree. Too many branches in the way; hard to get a clean shot. Another was chewing on some shrubs a short distance away. Should I go for that one? A third had been circling the tree for a while. I'll deal with him later. Two others were fighting over prey brought back by the pack, snapping at each other to secure a larger share. Those two can wait as well. Ultimately, Chester set his sights on the one foraging in the shrubs.
Spreading his feet wide across the branches to secure his stance, he drew back his arm. "Hup!" He threw. The spear flew silently through the air and struck the foraging Ant-wolf dead-on.
—Yip! The struck Ant-wolf collapsed instantly, thrashing in agony before managing to scramble back to its feet. But as it rose, the spear caught on the surrounding brush. The snagged shaft wobbled, tearing deeper into the wound, and the beast collapsed once more with a painful shriek.
—Bark! Bark!—Grrrrr! Startled by the sudden attack on their packmate, the other Ant-wolves scrambled to their feet and began barking up at them. But what could they possibly do?
Chester gripped another spear and threw. This time, however, his target saw the attack coming, dodged, and lunged toward the trunk. It tried to scramble up, but these creatures were canids, not felids. Lacking retractable claws to dig into the bark and the flexible forelimbs of a cat, climbing was an impossible feat.
"..." Watching this, Monia felt the terror that had gripped her slowly begin to melt away. Hunting an enemy unilaterally from a position of absolute safety—though the method was different, the result was no different from the traps they had used to catch game before.
Seeing the beast dodge, Chester picked up the spear-thrower. Glad he had the foresight to make it, he hooked the butt of a spear into the curved notch of the tool, gripping both firmly. He secured the thrower with his thumb, middle, ring, and pinky fingers, while lightly holding the spear shaft in place with his index finger. Then, he threw. The instant he initiated the throwing motion, he released his index finger and whipped his arm forward, throwing his entire body weight into the motion. Leveraged by the spear-thrower, the projectile launched with far greater centrifugal force than a bare-handed throw. It tore through the air with terrifying velocity and struck an Ant-wolf. *Thwack!* No, it hadn't just struck.
—Yelp! It had completely impaled the beast, passing clean through its body.
Chester immediately loaded another spear. He had only two left. He threw one of them, but it missed, burying itself deep into the dirt. Fifty percent accuracy. Throwing from the unfamiliar, precarious perch of a tree made it difficult to aim properly. Handing the final spear to Monia, Chester quickly cleared away some obstructing twigs to fashion new ones. Clearing the branches also gave him more room to move, allowing him to throw with greater ease.
They're still not running? One was completely impaled. Another had a spear deeply embedded in its flesh. With no way to treat such massive, deep wounds, both were as good as dead. Yet, despite watching two of their packmates get unilaterally slaughtered, the remaining Ant-wolves refused to retreat.
Chester continued to rain down the newly crafted spears. Propelled by the leverage of the thrower, the spears flew with lethal force. One buried itself deep into an Ant-wolf's shoulder; another struck the ground uselessly; a third veered wildly off-target as a branch swayed unexpectedly beneath him. But it didn't matter. There are plenty of branches left. He amused himself with the thought of testing just how many spears he could harvest from this single tree. He kept carving and throwing.
The Ant-wolves, however, were adapting. They began circling behind the tree to avoid his line of sight, or darting erratically in all directions to throw off his aim. It was a highly effective tactic. Already struggling with his accuracy due to the unstable footing, Chester found it nearly impossible to hit the frantically moving targets.
Keep cool. They hadn't run when two fell. What about three? Four? If five of them went down, would they still hold their ground? I don't need to kill them all. While Chester focused entirely on the beasts scurrying below, the pack was executing a plan of its own.
To his surprise, the Ant-wolves were far more intelligent than he had anticipated. While the others ran around to draw his attention, one beast pressed itself flat against the trunk. It was a perfect blind spot, completely obscured from Chester's view by the thick trunk. Another Ant-wolf took a running start from a distance, leaped, and used its packmate's back as a stepping stone to launch itself higher, catching a low-hanging branch. Scrambling frantically, it managed to haul itself up and began creeping silently behind Chester. Simultaneously, a third Ant-wolf scaled the tree from the opposite side, positioning itself to flank him. The two beasts crept precariously from branch to branch.
"..." Noticing the sudden decrease in the number of wolves on the ground, Chester's ears caught a faint, grating sound. It was the sound of wood fibers groaning and splintering under a weight they were never meant to bear. No way. It was pure instinct. Overriding his rational mind, which insisted such a thing was impossible, Chester trusted his gut and whipped around. Without a moment's hesitation, he slashed his machete.
"Huh?" Monia gasped. Past her shoulder, she saw an Ant-wolf baring its fangs. *Thwack!* Because of the awkward angle, the machete failed to connect with the beast and instead bit deep into a thick branch, getting stuck.
"Tch!" Sensing Chester's momentary vulnerability, the Ant-wolf lunged. In that split second, "Hup!" Chester grabbed the handle of the embedded machete, hoisted his entire body upward, and delivered a flying kick. His body soared right past Monia's face. *Thud!* The full force of his extended kick struck the Ant-wolf, sending it plummeting to the ground. Ordinarily, Chester would have fallen with it, but by clinging to the stuck machete, he managed to swing himself back and make a precarious landing on the branch.
But at that exact moment, the second Ant-wolf emerged from the opposite side, targeting Chester. "Ah!" Chester was still off-balance from his landing. The branch swayed violently, threatening to throw him off. And yet, the beast was already leaping. Monia moved. Reaching into her basket, she pulled out her wooden club and swung it wildly. Though the swing missed the Ant-wolf entirely, the sudden threat made the beast hesitate mid-lunge. That hesitation was all Chester needed.
Quickly recovering his footing, Chester assessed the situation from Monia's shout and movement. Letting go of the machete, he spun around and swung the wooden spear in his other hand. *Crack!* The spear struck the Ant-wolf squarely, sending it crashing to the ground, but the violent momentum of Chester's spin caused his foot to slip.
"Ugh!" He slipped. He was falling. As he plummeted, Chester desperately threw his arms out, catching a lower branch to halt his descent. But the Ant-wolves on the ground didn't miss their chance. One beast charged forward, ran vertically up the trunk, and snapped at Chester's dangling legs. *Rip!* Fortunately, the creature's jaws missed his ankle, catching only the hem of his suit trousers and tearing the fabric.
"Whoa!" But the violent tug of the beast tearing his trousers was enough to break his precarious hold. Chester slipped again. "Chester!" Monia screamed as Chester plummeted to the forest floor.
"Gah!" He slammed back-first onto the hard ground. Without even a second to register the pain, Chester scrambled to his feet. The moment he rose, a pair of snapping jaws lunged at his throat. He threw himself forward to dodge, simultaneously drawing the claw knife from his belt. In one fluid motion, he drove the blade deep into the nearest Ant-wolf.
—Yowl! Ignoring the beast's thrashing shrieks, Chester yanked it toward him and hurled its body at another charging wolf. Scrambling back up, he didn't even have time to think; he snatched a heavy stone from the ground and chucked it at another approaching predator. *Crack!* The stone struck the beast dead-on.
—...!! The beast whimpered in pain. But even more Ant-wolves were closing in on him.
"Ah, ah...!" What was she supposed to do in a situation like this? Chester, who usually guided her, was too busy fighting for his life to utter a single word. She had to think for herself. What could Monia do to save Chester from this deadly peril? As the thought raced through her mind, her eyes fell upon the machete, its blade gleaming where it remained wedged in the branch.