Big Game, Hunter

by BleepBloop2

Hydra

The prey lay in wait, laying a trap for the hunter.

The hydra was old, and it’s scales no longer shone as they once did. The marshy ground squished beneath it’s massive paws, claws digging deep into the mud. A film of filth coated the beast, hiding the deep blue scales and scars under a thin layer of green and brown. It dipped one head of many down to the ground, tracing the scent left behind by it’s prey.

It was close. The scent was strong: blood and fear. It followed the scent line, it’s many tongues flicking, tasting the air. It left the swamp that was it’s home, and entered a thick grove of trees barely wide enough for it’s massive bulk. It did not try to be quiet, for there were none who could challenge it. And the pesky prey that thought it could escape with it’s poison already in it’s veins would soon find out how wrong it was. Branches were bent, plants flattened and rocks crushed as it forced it’s way through the forest.

The hydra paused as the wind changed, blowing new scents towards it. No, not a new scent. It knew this one. It was the scent of it’s prey. And it was coming towards it.

The hydra’s many heads moved in half a dozen different directions, easily avoid the blade held by it’s prey. All the beast saw was a flash of green and brown and silver as it’s quarry leapt over it.

It felt something glance off the tough scales along it’s back as two heads whipped around to face it’s prey, the others keeping an eye on the surrounding area out of instinct and habit.

The stallion that had attacked it, that had almost been it’s prey, stood behind the hydra, seemingly content to let it turn around. He dodged a strike from one head and batted the other away with the forelimb long blade held between his teeth. Taking a step back, he watched the two heads facing him warily. They moved apart, surrounding the stallion, who took a step back and stumbled on the undergrowth.

Fast as thought, the left head struck.

The stallion swung his blade and caught the head where it met the long neck of the hydra. The blade easily cut through the scales and muscles of the hydra’s neck, removing the head with a spurt of blood. It tumbled from the neck, spraying blood in an arc above the stallion as the neck fell limp, no longer bleeding. Already, a new layer of scales was forming over the stump, forming what would soon become a new pair of heads for the hydra.

The hydra’s remaining heads screeched in pain. It brought it’s thick tail up to swat the stallion away, but in the beast’s rage it missed, cracking a tree as thick as the stallion was wide with a sound like stone shattering. The stallion smiled and chuckled around his blade. There was a small, mechanical click, out of place in the forest, followed by a buzzing like a distant beehive and the blade began to glow, the blood along it’s length bubbling as it heated.

The stallion stepped forward and swung at the headless neck just below the stump, easily cleaving the top off and filling the forest with the smell of burning flesh. A flash of smoke and a scream from the hydra signalled the job was done and the stallion pulled the blade free, leaving a patch of charred ground and a disc of hydra meat. Another click, and the buzzing stopped. The hydra continued its slow journey around to face the stallion, focussing all head but one on him. It was halfway around when a pair of heads lashed forward without warning. The stallion avoided one, but not the second. It slammed into him like falling masonry, the thick skull of the hydra like a battering ram.

The stallion rolled across the ground before coming to a gentle stop at the base of a large oak tree. He had only a second to let the pain wash over him before a hissing noise reached his ears and something splashed against his fur. Very little of what hit him touched his skin, but it was enough. It burned like the sun, condensed onto a spot the size of his hoof and embedded in his side. Biting back a scream that would only make things worse, he scrambled around the tree, putting it between him and the hydra, and frantically rubbed his side against it. He managed to scrape a little off against the rough wood, but it also kept his mind from the pain long enough for him to find his canteen. Stabbing his blade into the ground, he picked up his supply of water and, twisting around, splashed some across his flank. The relief was almost instant as the water cleaned away the acid, but he splashed a little more to be sure. Satisfied, he capped the flask and dropped it. It fell to the ground around the tree with a small thud. The stallion quickly took up his blade and listened.

He heard nothing. He looked around, and could not see the hydra. Walking away from the tree, he tried to look around it.

One of the hydra’s heads appeared, hissed, and spat more acid at him.

He dropped to the ground with a thud and a woosh of lost breath. The acid passed over him to splash against the tree behind him, sizzling away against the bark. Ignoring the burn in his side, he shoved himself to his feet and brought his blade up in a diagonal slash, cutting deeply into the side of one of the hydra’s face. The blade pulled out easily. The stallion stepped forward as something clicked again and the buzzing restarted, the blade quickly beginning to glow again. Another quick slash, this time taking the hydra below the head, severing the head and leaving a steeply angled, blackened stump.

The hydra moved away from the stallion, the ground shaking slightly under it’s weight. It could feel the heat along the stumps it would never regrow, feel the pain as it’s flesh was seared. Ponies like this one were normally easy meat, without magic or wings.

The beast knew it had been burned by its attack, could see the mark, taste the scent of burned pony on the air.

The two hunters looked at each other, the now four headed hydra being stared down by the much smaller stallion. The hydra took another step backwards. The stallion followed. The hydra retreated farther. The stallion followed. The hydra retreated another step, and as the stallion moved to followed, all four heads lashed out. The stallion jumped over one, only for another to slam into his side. He slammed into a tree to the sound of breaking bones and branches before tumbling to the ground. Another head darted forward and sank it’s fangs into the pony’s left foreleg.

The stallion screamed around his blade and swung wildly, hacking into the hydra’s neck and face. The red-hot blade sliced through scales and muscle with ease, leaving the hydra lacking another head. The stallion scrambled away through the trees, dragging himself across the ground before staggering to his hooves. Moving behind a set of trees, he tried to pull the hydra’s jaw open with his hooves, but found it stuck fast. Taking a few calming breaths, he jammed his blade between the hydra’s jaws and used it as a lever, forcing the hydra’s mouth open. With a slick, wet popping, he pulled his leg free of the fangs. Jaw clenched tight, he hobbled over to where he had kept his canteen, and after a little digging found his saddlebags and pulled out a small roll of gauze that he applied to his leg with quick, practiced motions. Next he pulled out a nearly empty vial. Frowning, he took a small swallow and placed it carefully back in the bag. He would need more soon.

As the potion hit his stomach, pain faded, replaced by a detached feeling that something important was missing. He stood, careful not to place much weight on his injured leg. He might not feel it now, but the pain would be back soon. He took up his blade again and carefully walked around the tree. The hydra would be waiting. While the heat from his blade stopped it from regrowing, it also meant it wouldn’t bleed out.

With three heads down, the hydra would be less smart, less able to flank, and much, much angrier. It was quiet for now, as quiet as a beast that large could be at least. The stallion stepped out from behind his cover, watching carefully for any movement. He frowned as he scanned around him. How such a large beast managed to hide, he didn’t know. The thick canopy of the forest did block most of the light, but it was the middle of the day, with the sun directly above. The hydra should not be able to hide. He could hear it, but the closeness of the trees was working against him, making it hard to pinpoint where the sound was coming from.

He could feel the potion burning through his veins, telling him to move, to act, to run. Run somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. It filled his muscles with an energy that threatened to burn them away. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Falling leaves, shifting branches, striking hydra.

He pivoted around the first head, ducked under the second. The third missed entirely. Sword in jaw, he swung, the buzzing filling the forest again. He felt the brief resistance of the soft scales of the hydra’s neck, and the hydra lost another head.

That the beast was still conscious through the pain was a testament to it’s strength, or perhaps it’s rage. Most of it’s kind only managed to lose one or two heads before the pain overtook them. Then again, most of it’s kind only had three heads to begin with. But the stallion knew it would not remain upright for long. Rage like it’s can only take you so far before failing.

The stallion waited, body buzzing with the need to act, as the hydra spent the last of it’s rage. He could see weariness growing in it’s eyes as it stared at him, it’s heads falling lower and lower. Before it could lapse into unconsciousness, the stallion walked towards it. He took a pitiful strike on the shoulder, barely enough to slow him down for even a step. As the head fell away, he swung out at it, severing it cleanly. The hydra whimpered, a terrible sound from one previously so fierce. He neared the final head, and the hydra stared him in the eyes. The two hunters looked at each other for a long moment before the hydra bowed it’s last head. Eyes closed, facing the ground, it never saw the blade coming.

The stallion lowered his head to the fallen hydra, a moment of silent respect. It had been the most difficult so far.

But then the moment passed. He collected his saddlebags, pried a trophy from the jaw of the last head, and set of home. He paused before he had gone two steps, turning to look back at the fallen hydra. He would need supplies soon. With an unhappy sigh, he set about gathering things to trade.