2.A Fresh Catch

“The Greatest Monster Hunter of America” was shown to hold a scythe in his hand, raised high above his head. His smile was about as bright as the sun behind him, warm and welcoming, full of joy and laughter. Well, at least that’s what the poster depicted. 

He was rugged, he was handsome-

And landed on his back with an extremely loud *CRACK*.  He stared up in a daze at the clear blue sky, it was too bright and too hot, not ideal weather for a job like  this. And then he was flying through the air again, landing face first in the dust. “That’s- that’s really unkind ya know?” He said as he flipped over onto his back and sat up, spitting out sand. So much for the Hero of the West- It was his destiny, his future, his life.

But now his “life” was about to be diminished by the monster that faced him. It looked something like an antelope… if an antelope was eight feet tall with three foot horns. Its neck was covered in eyes with a giant one right smack in the middle of its forehead. Decker Wyatt was thankful for his jean jacket and leather gear as he eyed the spurs on the back of each hoof. “You really are kinda ugly aren’t ya?” He shivered as about a hundred angry yellow eyes blinked back at him. “Well-” he mumbled, trying to get up without stumbling, “guess it’s time to- '' He dove out of the way as the thing charged. “Damn.” he cursed. It turned around, hatred in its multiple eyes. It put up a good fight, that was for sure. He had been chasing it around, or more like, it chased HIM around for about thirty minutes at this point. Him and the beast were tired and annoyed at this point, and Wyatt ignored the pain in his spine as he pulled the scythe from his back. He didn’t feel like making a show of it today, just a plain and simple clean cut- that’s all it would take. “You can’t be trampling carts-” he started, trying to distract the monster as he began to pull his arms back, “people can’t use the road anymore because of you.” They both stared at the road that Wyatt had been thrown upon. “Yea, that one.” He broke into a run with the monster momentarily distracted, swinging his scythe in an ark above his head before it came down on the Ojbestia, his chest heaving with the effort. 

It fell heavily to the ground, dying the second the metal pierced its rough hide. Decker Wyatt stood on top of the beast, quickly scurrying backwards as a soul seeped from the monster. He smiled as he watched the light blue spirit of some poor soul fly towards the heavens, or wherever people went once they passed. Monsters weren’t actually monsters… more like restless souls of the deceased, trapped inside an animal's body, morphing it into something monstrous and threatening. The Ojbestia was an example of this. Wyatt’s great-something-grandpa Dante Wyatt, guessed the animal base for this monster was either a goat or some sort of antelope. Once the soul entered the body it permanently destroyed the poor animal. Decker didn’t really know why souls entered animals, no one in his family really did-

He looked back down at the Ojbestia and grimaced. He forgot that all the eyes bled once it died. By this time it was drowning in its own blood, the sand unable to soak up the moisture fast enough. He quickly looked away, bringing two fingers up to his mouth and whistling for his horse, a strong gelding named Bolt. He rummaged through his saddle bags, pulling out a pair of elated gloves and some rope. He then untied the canvas sheet from the back of his saddle. He managed to drag the monster onto the sheet, wrapping it up and securing it with the rope. He then took his lasso off his hip and tied it around the monster's horns, tying the other end to his saddle. He mounted and urged his horse on, ready to complete his job.

He shifted in his saddle as they made their way into the town a few miles north-east of where he had killed the beast. He knew there'd be a crowd as he made his way down the path that connected the town to the main road. They'd be asking all sorts of questions and giving him all kinds of attention that he didn't want or need. He sighed and put on a smile as the first person, the grocery store owner, came out to greet him. He went running to Decker, waving his arms, eyes not on him but the massive bundle that dragged behind. “Oh thank you! Thank you! I told you he was a nasty one, destroying my produce shipments with those awful hooves of his-”

“Yep-” Decker mumbled, massaging the new bruises from where said hooves came in contact with his back and ribs. The expected crowd began to gather as they all stopped and stared to gawk at the ugly beast. 

“Will you be taking it with you Mr. Wyatt?” The old man squinted through his spectacles, the sun blinding his already horrible vision. He had been the one that had “called” him, Wyatt's heart being pulled towards this town, towards him. His heart always followed the people with the problems.

“Uh, no-” he didn’t want to be near the thing any longer than he had too. Ojbestias in particular. They'd always scared him as a child, even now- if he was man enough to admit it. 

“Excellent, excellent. Here is your payment Mr. Wyatt.” The shop owner smacked a few bills into his hand. “LEVI! JACK! UNTIE THIS THING AND GO PUT IT IN THE DRYING SHED BEHIND MY STORE!” he turned back to Decker, still squinting. “Will you be staying long Mr. Wyatt?” Wyatt shook his head, he could already feel the tightness in his chest, the string like tug on his heart. 

“Nah, I need to head off, more monsters to hunt ya know? But before I leave, could I buy a few things? Also, I need the canvas sheet and rope back- it's mine. And if it’s not too much trouble, could I have a piece of the monster?” 

“Of course, of course, I’ll get the boys to bring your things back now. Actually, you should go back to get it, you can also choose the piece you'd like. Don't take the muscular  parts though, they sell for a good price! ” 

“'Course, 'course. I only want the horns anyways, I’ll come in to buy some things before I leave, canned goods and medicine.” The shopkeeper nodded and smiled at Decker, his glasses slipping down his nose, then shuffled off. Wyatt shook his head and  dismounted in his circus trick-like way, landing over Bolt's right shoulder. He walked back towards the massive shed. He couldn't understand why people thought they somehow owned the monsters he killed. They should return to the earth, not sold for a profit-

ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψ

Decker Wyatt was the Greatest Monster Hunter of America, at least, that’s what the posters at the train stations always said. He was a traveling man, roaming America, killing monsters that brought hell to unprotected individuals. He had followed in the footsteps of his father and every man before him. They slaughtered the creatures for work, no matter how deadly. Most monsters were relatively harmless, that is, as long as you left them alone. But others, like the Ojbestia and Mashers, were violent by nature and would attack people, even if they were unprovoked. For generations his family had held the power to eradicate monsters. To split the soul and the animal, severing their strange bond. His family had been well known, spread far and wide throughout the country, but now he was the only one left of the Wyatt family. Family- He didn’t think about them often. He quite literally put them behind him; the Mother, the Father. The unborn baby girl. He was running from them, or maybe even himself. Who knew? But that wasn’t a question he wanted answered. The question he seeked an answer for was who took them? What monster, man or not, slaughtered them like sheep on that windy night twenty or so years ago? He knew- they all knew that that was a risk that came with the job; for seven generations, the men in Wyatt’s family had been hunting monsters, blessed with the ability to do so. Some say that the original monster hunter, Darien, had been born with the gift. Others said that he gained this power from an angel's kiss. No one, not even his family, had the answer as to where the power originated. But it had been passed down from father to son, father to son, until Decker Wyatt himself held the Scythe. It was beautiful; a six foot long staff carved with intricate swirling details and the blade a wholly silver, said to be blessed by a god himself. But no “god” could save him or his family from the three headed beast. He had asked for answers, searched America up and down, twice over for them, but still no luck. He thought fighting the monsters would pull him closer to the truth, the way his heart brought him closer to them, but all he ever got was dead ends and dead monsters.

The wind blew softly, caressing Decker’s ears, ruffling his hair and making his earrings of pearl and gold sparkle in the afternoon light as the wind made them twist and turn. They touched his jawline softly, like the way his mother had, her words ringing out strong and clear “Don’t listen to what your father said!” She’d tell him to keep his head up but his hopes down, the only ones that could control his life were himself and the strange forces that meddled with it.

Strange forces… He knew the pull well. Like a thread that wove itself through his ribs, attaching its thin red strands to his heart and pulling. As he got closer to a monster the thread would become thicker, like a shoelace or rope. And by the time he stood in the monster's presence, the connection was so close that the rope's fate bound tightly around his chest put a strain on his lungs and heart, it made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. But then they became the muscle, veins, and sinew that kept his body together, giving him the strength to erase the monster's existence- And then the cycle would start all over again. 

This very “thread” pulled at him now, like a compass leading to the next villain in Wyatt’s heroic story. Well he wasn’t really a hero- at least not in his father’s eyes. He was a misfit and an outcast, all because of something as stupid as eyes. Eyes. That’s all it boiled down to. Eyes. Everyone had eyes. Gorgeous colors that held the secrets of humanity, just waiting to be unlocked. But Wyatt was cursed. At least that’s what his father said. Everyone had a singular eye color, but he had two. His family’s claim to fame was not only their unique monster killing abilities but their crystal clear, blue eyes. They were about as blue and endless as the sky, inquisitive and fierce. This must’ve been part of the angel's gift Wyatt often thought, Why else would they be blue? Wyatt’s weren’t the clear blue that was beloved by all. They were muddied with the brown of his mother’s. At least, again, that’s what his father said. He ranted about how Wyatt must be half a man because he only had half of the correct eye color. “The power must be halved.” He once stated, and let that rule over Wyatt’s training for the rest of his young life. The idea lodged itself deep in his skull, that soft spot between the head and neck. How could he live up to his fathers title, if he himself was only half? It ruined him, it did then and it did now. It made him ugly, unlovable. The praises and cheers phony, fake, staged to make him believe he could-

But his mom said that his eyes, just like him, were beautiful. Could half of a man be beautiful? The fade from sky blue to the rich earth tones of the brown were gorgeous, at least to her. She thought they reflected the earth; It's a boundless sky but grounding soil. She saw the fierceness in her little boy's eyes no doubt, but she also saw kindness and warmth, something the cold blue of her husband’s could never possess.

But Wyatt, like his father always had reminded him, still felt tainted. He really was the end of the line. There were no more after him- had the magic finally come to its end? That’s another question he sought an answer for. Were his eyes really partially brown because of his mother, or was one of those strange forces again at play?

Wyatt, like he always did, tried to block the feelings that threatened to make his eyes water. He instead turned towards the scenery, whistling an unknown tune that came to him on the spot. He watched as the view changed from cactus and sand to bone white rocks and dust. He didn’t like the new terrain as much as the last; the dust seemed to get everywhere and it was much different than the red sands of home. He didn’t much care for the spiky shrubs either, he hated to think what landing on one of them would feel like- 

Bolt and his rider walked on for miles till the pretty pinks of the sunset turned into the dark purples of the night. Darkness forced Wyatt to hunker down, not only was it hard for him and his horse to see, but vicious creatures, both real and mythical, roamed during the night. He also needed a break, both physically and mentally. Being a lone traveler, even with a horse with as much character as Bolt, still sometimes got to him. He just needed to build camp and sleep it all off, that was all. Sleep was the best medicine in his book, even better than the weird teas his mother used to force down his throat.

He picked a spot that wasn’t too dusty. There were some tough, stringy grasses and surprisingly, some soil and trees. He dismounted, groaning as his knees locked into place after being bent for hours. Just an hour's worth of work left, he thought, then I can lie down and sleep like death. He untied the canvas sheet- unfortunately the same one the Ojbestia had been wrapped in, and set up his one man tent. It was still soaked with blood, and he hoped that it would dry within the hour. He also hoped nothing nasty could smell the metallic stench that emanated from it. He set up a fire and some food, the cans at the grocers had been more expensive than he’d thought-  and untacked his horse. He didn’t like working Bolt longer than he needed to, and let him roam free during the night. He was a sensible horse that never roamed too far.

Wyatt was quiet as he sat down by the fire, watching as Bolt slowly trotted off. He laughed as he suddenly broke into a run, bucking and playing, then came to a sudden halt in a patch of grass. It was weird out here, the tall grass and soil like a small oasis in a sea of bleach white sand and stone. He had never been this far north before, all of the towns he had been to recently were unknown to him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t unknown to them. They only knew him by last name, everyone seemed to only know him by last name. They either knew him as “the son of Wyatt” or from the posters. God he hated those posters, that was so long ago, so why were they-

His thoughts were interrupted by the chorus of yowling coyotes. He looked up at the crescent moon they howled to, wondering if that was their god. He smiled at the thought, then broke into a panic as he remembered the blood. He stood up, ignoring how his knees popped with age, and went to check his tent. It had dried, but it still made him nervous. He licked his thumb and checked the wind, sighing with relief as he realized his camp was downwind. He wondered how long the wind's direction would be in his favor. He acted then, not wanting to waste any more time and stalked over to his saddle, unbuckling the largest saddle bag and grabbed the Ojbestia’s horns. As he walked to a nearby patch of dirt, he picked up two sticks and fished out some twine from his pocket. He knelt down, digging a hole big and deep enough for the horns so they could be fully covered. He then buried them, making a cross with the twine and sticks, and stabbed it into the freshly turned earth. He fished out a nice rock from the same pocket he had gotten the twine from and put it in front of the cross. He then put both palms in the dirt and closed his eyes, bringing his head just before the rock. “I’m sorry” he whispered as softly as the wind that blew, then got up quietly and left.

He shuffled to his tent, noting that Bolt was closer to the camp. He didn’t bother to change- he didn’t really have any other clothes anyways, all he could do was strip himself of his armor and boots. He laid down roughly on his mat, curling up so that his knees touched his stomach. He was quiet as he drifted off to sleep. His father had always scolded him for his ritual, but he thought it was a nice gesture to finally set the soul and animal free. He wasn’t sure if it actually worked but he liked to think that it did. He’d hope someday someone could do that for him-

Ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψ

He woke up with a groan, back tight and sore from the day before, not to mention all the little pebbles he assumed he slept on- the dingey mat wasn’t as good a use nowadays. He rubbed his face with calloused hands, trying to ignore the dots that danced across his closed eyelids in a rainbow of colors as bright sunlight peeked through the openings in the canvas door, almost blinding him. Decker Wyatt wasn’t a morning person, that was for sure. He should’ve gotten up earlier to beat the heat but he instead slept like the dead. 

He turned his boot over and grumbled as a grasshopper fell out, then slipped his other on and picked up his jacket. It was pleasantly warm, the sun slowly rising higher in the sky as Decker packed up his camp. In about an hour and a half he and Bolt were ready to move on. They rarely stayed in the same place for long, there was always somebody that needed something somewhere, and rest just made Wyatt uneasy. He’d been working since he was fifteen, it was really all he knew. “Vacation” and “rest” were foreign ideas to him, hell he barely even liked sleeping. He would work his body till it physically couldn’t do anymore, but he always kept his horse in mind. Blt was his companion, his best friend, he couldn’t work a horse like that. So rest was something he did only for bolt; he enjoyed watching him play and be free for a while, he sometimes liked to run with him, though he usually just slowed him down.

Today Bolt had other ideas though. He kept to a walk, sometimes a trot, but never anything faster. Decker could feel it too. The area seemed to suck the life out of them, there was nothing but rocks, dust, and more rocks. Wyatt decided that he did not like the terrain of the north, it was too plain. He liked it better back home- the red sand and odd rock formations. The silvery-green grasses and trees with the low hanging branches. Here, there wasn’t a single shrub to look at. Besides the weird cactuses, which Decker decided he also didn’t much like (he accidentally sat on one that morning), it was dry. He did like the blue sky though. It seemed like it was a darker blue here, with a few wispy clouds to break it up. He smiled as he looked up, watching a hawk glide silently through the air. 

Then it pulled at him. The veins connected to his heart were yanked in the north-west direction, almost making his chest turn with the force. He could tell that Bolt could feel it too, his nose now pointing in that direction. “Well-” Decker huffed out, the pull had really caught him off guard- “guess we go that way huh boy?” Bolt just snorted and turned his body fully in the direction the pull came from. The strength of the tug at Wyatt’s heart was increasing rapidly, his next monster being much nearer than he believed. He urged his horse to a tot after about thirty minutes of walking… he could tell they were only about an hour away. As they traveled, Decker realized that the scenery was starting to change. The once flat land began to gain rock formations, the largest being a large hill made of boulders with what looked like a mine sitting at the top. He noticed the grasses started to become more frequent, even a few trees here and there.  

He could tell he was close because the pull on his heart and veins was so great that he felt like his ribs could shatter. He gasped for breath as he saw a small creek- and then his heart was finally let go and he sucked in fresh air. As he looked up from heaving over his saddle, he was faced with a small cabin. It was made of dark wood, you could see a chimney coated in ash with grimy windows. There was also a clothing line to the left of the house, and there stood an older woman, hanging white sheets. 

Wyatt dismounted and let his horse drink, shedding himself of any gear that made him seem threatening. He’d accidentally frightened people once or twice- most didn't react well to something new or different unfortunately. By taking all his gear off he was reduced to just his clothes, making him feel bare and open. He missed the comforting weight of his leather gear as he jumped across the small creek. He tried to make a bit of noise as he walked towards the house, trying not to frighten the woman. He cleared his throat when he was about ten feet away, putting his hands at his sides so it didn’t look like he was trying to conceal anything. 

She finished pinning up the sheet before she turned around, putting a few pins back in her pocket. She was an older woman, probably in her forties, wearing a dark brown dress and an apron, her hair in a loose bun. She looked him up and down, examining him, and he cracked a nervous grin. “And who might you be?” her voice was rough and harsh, Wyatt could tell she was a woman who always meant business and probably never smiled much.

“Names, Decker Wyatt, ma’am. I’m a monster hunter.”

“Ah, so you're the monster hunter I’ve heard about. Forgive my rudeness, not that I really care, but I thought you'd be bigger-” She still scowled down at him, even though he was taller.

“Don’t mind it” He did- “But height doesn’t really matter in the business, it’s more strength and focus.”

“Uh huh. Anyways I bet you're here to deal with my monster troubles? I also heard you got some almost magical way of showing up when people need you most.”

“Yes ma’am, that’s why I’m here. Been traveling north for awhile and I was er- pulled- this way.” Her eyebrow raised in suspicion but then she shrugged and picked up her basket.

“Let me put this in the house. Wait out on the porch, yea? By the way, my names’ Amelia Hemmingways. I’ll be back in a moment.” And she marched off without giving Decker the chance to get another word in.

He was quiet for a moment before following her path through the cut grass, obediently waiting on the porch for her. She came out of the door a few minutes later, drying her hands on her apron before shoving one out in front of her. “It’s rude to meet someone and not shake hands ya know?” Decker grinned and took her hand. She had a firm grasp, her hand and arm about as big as a mans. 

“So Hemmingways, is it?” She nodded as they dropped hands. “So what’s the story or the monster, details help.”

“A man who gets straight to the point… I like it.” He decided that he liked her.

“Well when a woman demands such from me, I deliver.” She finally cracked her first grin.

“Well I’ve been living out here since I was twenty. My husband dragged me out here on a pipe dream thinkin’ he could mine this here mountain- well, hill I guess. Anyways he started that mine you can see from here.” She pointed at the building at the top of the hill. It was a clear view from the porch where the two stood. “Horseshoe Mine is what he called it, and said it’d give him good luck. Anyways he died a few years back. Mining' accident ya know? Killed him instantly. Guess it was good luck that he didn’t die in agony. Anyways, I’ve been living out here for the past five years myself.” She said the last bit with a smirk playing on the corners of her lips.

“I’m sorry to hear that-“ Decker said quietly, not really knowing how else to respond.

“Yea, I’m sorry too. He was a real idiot, that's for sure. But a good idiot.” The smirk turned into a small smile. Decker knew she loved him- in her own way.

“Can I ask something? Before you go on with your story.”

“Yea, go ahead.”

“Why didn’t you just move back? I mean to the city or wherever.”

She laughed, putting her hands on her hips as she did so. Decker realized she was wearing working boots just like his. “Don’t know actually. Guess I feel like he’s still here-“ she waved her arm in the air as if she was stirring it, “like the mine is our love child or something. I don’t know. It is mighty peaceful though. I’ve become fond of it over the years.” Her smile showed teeth now. Decker looked about. It was pretty peaceful, just a creek, some trees, and a mine on a hill. “But I should get to the point, shouldn't I? Here, follow me.” She marched off again; down the porch and past the house. They walked for about five minutes in silence till they reached a small well. He looked at it quizzically, not sure what this had to do with anything. “It’s been dry as a bone for about a month now-“ she started to crank the handle, the bucket jostling its way down. She kept turning it and eventually, the rope ran out, but there was no splash. Decker moved towards the well, peering over the edge. There was no water. Hell, there was nothing. It was so dark he couldn’t even see the bucket. 

“Got a light?” He asked, squinting into the darkness. Amelia ran to get one as Decker still stared downwards. He was baffled as to why he couldn’t see anything. He cranked the handle and brought the bucket up, but there was no water in it- it wasn’t even wet. His brow furrowed as she returned with a lantern. He sent the bucket down again, then showed the light. “Nothing.” He stated, again squinting his eyes. “It’s completely dark.” He stood with his torso hanging over the edge for a while to see if it’d make a difference, but nothing changed.

“Here-“ she grabbed the crank and brought the bucket up again. She then untied the bucket and instead attached the lantern. She carefully cranked it down and the two both peered into the well.

Nothing. It was completely dark. It was as if they hadn’t even sent the light down at all. 

“What?” Amelia mumbled more to herself than Wyatt. She quickly brought the lantern back up.

It was still glowing.

Decker’s face fully scrunched into a scowl. He picked up a rock that fit nicely in his palm, and dropped it.

Again, nothing. There was no sound. It was silent. 

Decker fully leaned over the well’s wall, feet coming off the ground, and looked down. Still no change. He stood back up and wiped his palms together. “Uh, are you sure that there isn’t like, blockage or something? That could explain why there’s no water.”

“Yes, but could it explain why there’s no light or sound?” She looked at him again with a red eyebrow arched as high as the heavens.

“Well, no-“ he was absolutely stumped. Usually when dealing with the monster problems, the monster was usually rampaging through someone’s backyard. This was entirely different. He couldn’t understand what was happening. He sat down and asked her to join him in the grass. She plopped down beside him as he brought out his father’s journal. “Okay. Anything else besides this well business? Like any noises, tracks, fur, anything? Are you sure this is a monster problem and not just a dried out well problem?”

She scowled at him and crossed her arms. He realized she could probably hit harder than he could ever dream of- “I don’t know. Would whatever magic that pulls you across America bring you here if it was ‘just a well problem’?”

He looked down at the journal that had been passed down from one Wyatt to another. “I guess not-“ he mumbled, now flipping through the pages. “But about the details. Are there any other signs besides this here well?”

Amelia sighed, bringing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her now bent legs. “Yea- whatever it is, howls. Not like a wolf or anything. Never actually heard anything like it before-“ 

“Uh huh” Wyatt nodded as he flipped through the pages, still not sure what it could be. Could be a desert monster- he thought. Would explain why the well dried up- but it wouldn’t explain the lack of light and sound. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. Promise you won’t laugh though? If I’m being completely honest, I’m not sure if this is all in my head or not.”

Wyatt smiled down at her. “Trust me, it’s not just all in your head. Tell me. I promise I’ve probably heard and seen weirder.”

“Well, okay then-“ she started nervously. She cleared her throat, straightened out her legs and her dress as well. “About a week after I noticed the well dried up, I started hearing sounds-“

“Sounds…like the howling?”

“Yes, but the howling started much later. This happened, like I said, about a week after the well dried up. It seemed to only happen when I wasn’t doing much. Sewing or cleaning. The pipes would creak. It was quite at first, I thought it was just the house settling or the pipes were starting to rust. But then it started to get louder, more frequent too. Only recently has the water started to turn on by itself. At first it was a few drips from the kitchen sink. That was until I came home one day and the entire bathroom was flooded.” 

She laughed quietly, but Wyatt couldn’t seem to find anything to laugh about. He gripped the leather sketchbook, like he was afraid it might suddenly take flight. “Anything else?” He really hoped there wasn’t-

“Yea…this is the part where I might sound crazy.” Decker braced himself. “For about a week now I’ve been having weird dreams. Well not really dreams- it’s darker than hell and all I can hear is the sound of water rushing. Like the Ocean is coming straight through my house. Does that sound odd?”

Decker let out a deep sigh and stood up, knees popping in protest. He held his arm out for her to take, and helped the red haired woman up. “Cmon,” he said, sounding suddenly like he hadn’t slept in days, “let’s go find your water supply.”

Ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψ

“What. Is. That???” she asked, stopping dead in her tracks as she did so. They had hiked almost a mile back, following the stream. Amelia had said that where the water supply came from was a big hole at the side of another rocky hill at the edge of the forest. She said it was lined with big rocks, almost like a tunnel, and that there was always water flowing. But instead they were met with a bunch of sticks. “We must’ve taken a wrong turn-” Which was impossible since they had followed the stream. 

“No ma’am” said Decker, sighing as he once again fished out his journal. Before they had left he had retrieved all his gear from his horse, so he was ready to fight the monster. “What you're looking at-” He said as he licked his thumb and flicked through the pages, “is a nest.”

“A- A Nest???” She looked between Wyatt and the large bundle of sticks. It was about ten feet in diameter, that is, if you didn’t count the larger sticks sticking out. The nest wasn’t just made of large sticks and branches though. It contained rocks and mud as well, acting as a seal to trap all the water behind it. “I’ve never seen a nest like THAT before. Especially one that big. Is it supposed to have a hole in the middle?”

Wyatt nodded his head. “Yep, see here-” Amelia walked over to him and let her take a look at the notes he had found. “It’s a Water Wraith.” Amelia looked down at the notes, staring at the drawing, then pointed at the drawing of the nest.

“So… it’s that thing?” she pointed at the drawing.

“Uh huh.” The Water Wraith looked like a gigantic white eel. It had a flowing dorsal fin and large eyes that could only see home. “It’s a… how would one say this? A guiding monster? It’s said to guide you to what you're looking for-” Wyatt was struck with the idea so fast that he almost fell down, “And I know Exactly how I’m going to catch it!”  He started stripping himself of his leather and silver once more, stripping his clothes as well till he was just in his under garments. He picked up the leather chest belt and put it back on, somewhat hating the way it felt against his chest.

Amelia looked on in horror, but only with her eyes. She still kept the same, strong posture, keeping her arms crossed. “Do you usually strip for this job?” She asked quietly, trying not to look down.

Wyatt laughed as he tightened the belt, “No, and I’m sorry. This is a water monster, and drying out jeans and leather is somewhat tedious.” That seemed to make her relax, and Wyatt smiled. “I’d recommend heading back. These monsters are slippery and sometimes can get out of hand and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.

“Okay-” she said, “I wish you luck then, Mr. Wyatt. But if I may ask, how are you going to kill it?”

“Oh, I’m not gonna kill it-” Wyatt said, itching the massive blue scar that ran down his spine, “I’m gonna catch it!”

Ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψ

A Water Wraith, or any water monster in general, was different from the others. Water monsters most likely used fish as their hosts, and fish, unlike other animals that were most likely used, were easily more corrupted and deteriorated by the soul. Essentially, it was just a soul that chose to remain in this world and not move on to the next. You couldn’t reap them, like other monsters. You could just move them or catch them, which was exactly what Decker Wyatt planned to do.

“Alright,” Wyatt bundled up his belongings and tossed them to the side. Now that Amelia was gone the real show could begin. 

He reached behind him, feeling the blue scar that ran along his spine and then reached in, pulling out the masterfully carved scythe. He could not feel the tension in his hands and chest grow as he handled the weapon, but in the air as well; the monster knew he was here. He walked over to the nest, caressing his hands over it before taking a step back. He swung, the branches cracking and breaking into wood chips as he did so. By the forth swing he could hear the monster cry, a shriek from hell itself. The water had started to run free from the now broken nest. Decker backed up as the tunnel of rock began to rumble, the monster coming from somewhere deep within. With an explosion of water, rock, and stick, the monster appeared. A 16 foot, white, eel like monster erupted from the tunnel, bearing massive fangs, its dorsal fin frilled with rage. The show had begun.

The monster opened its mouth in rage, thrashing its head side to side to get a better look at Decker. He backed up till he was at the edge of the river, screaming “HEY! OVER HERE YOU UGLY BEAST!” It couldn’t hear him but it could definitely feel the vibrations of his voice. “Aww, shi-” Decker started before getting body slammed into the river. He opened his eyes underwater, surprised to see how deep it really was. The only issue was that he couldn’t see the monster. That’s right- They’re invisible underwater- Decker swan to the surface, scythe still in hand. He treaded water, swimming in a circle, but still he couldn’t see the thing. That’s when he felt something between his legs. “Wha- nonononononono-” Decker was raised into the air, riding on the back of the wraith. At first, it didn’t notice him. Then it slowly turned its head till it was face to face with Decker. “Heeeeyyyy boy-” Wyatt was cut off as the monster screamed and lunged at him. Decker slid off the beast, causing it to bite itself. It screamed and withered in pain as Decker watched from the grass. He stood up, thankful that he had fallen on the ground. He gripped his scythe, feeling the power course through himself and the weapon, becoming one. He ran towards the monster and slashed against its side, falling in the water. He swam away as the monster fell, still in a physical state. He needed it in its spirit form to be able to catch it. He pulled himself onto the grass again, gasping for breath. That's when he shrieked in pain. The monster had gotten ahold of his booted foot. The monster began to turn, making Decker scream as the fang sunk deeper into his toes. He wasn’t even sure if he had them anymore. The monster then started to pull him in slowly. He was clawing at the mud as the water raised above his knees. “This is not how I’m going to die today-” He turned his hips and awkwardly swung. With some weird luck, he hit the monster directly in the head, making it scream, letting Wyatt’s foot go. He was surprised that he had hit the thing- he was even more surprised that he didn’t have a hole in his boot.

He scrambled back onto the grass again, standing, and stumbling. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be- but it still hurt like hell. The monster slowly turned again to face Decker, its body half out of the water. It had a glow to it that it hadn’t before. The physical seal was almost broken, Decker Wyatt just had to hit it one last time. 

Wyatt gritted his teeth, fully standing up. But as he did so, he felt something. A throbbing pain. But it wasn’t coming from him. He blinked. What should have been an act that took a split second felt like minutes. As his eyelids closed he could see it, but mostly feel it. In the black of his eyelids there was a faint red glow. As he focused on it it grew stronger, so did the throbbing pulse. He gasped as he opened his eyes. His father always taught him that he should always swing at the chest of a monster to catch the soul but he never why. Decker grasped his scythe as hard as he could, this would take everything he had. The monster was now riled up, feeling the vibrations of Wyatt’s wholly power through the air. It gnashed its fangs, its dorsal frill standing straight up on edge. 

Wyatt realized he couldn’t go straight at the monster, it’d bite him in half. Unless… “HEY!” The monster cocked its head ever so slightly. “YEA YOU! COME AND GET ME YOUUU R A T!” The monster screamed and rushed at Decker, He seemed to understand that- Wyatt rolled forwards, barely missing the Water Wraith’s Jaws, rolling under it. On the other side, he was near the monster's tail, fully out of the water. Decker Wyatt swung his scythe, skewering its tail like his weapon was a crude fish hook. The monster screamed, turning around. It tried to shake its tell to get rid of Decker but found it only caused more pain. 

Wyatt began to pull, slowly dragging the monster back into the water. He didn’t exactly know why he was dragging it back in, that actually seemed like the opposite of what he should be doing, but he needed the spirit as intact as possible.

The monster shot at him, Decker barely ducking under water, only losing a few hairs off his head. However, ducking under the water was probably his biggest mistake. The monster slowly wrapped around him, like a slippery snake, trying to squeeze the life out of him. Wyatt grunted, wiggling his shoulders for room. He managed to free his arms, again gripping the scythe. The wraith was half visible in the water, he was so close to breaking the bond-

He stared at its chest waiting, then it happened, the faint red glow. He screamed, half from the effort of screaming, half from the monster bruising his ribs, shoving him against the river bed. If he failed he’d drown.

Decker Wyatt swung…

And he didn’t miss.

The monster gave a final scream, and they both shot out like bullets out of the water. Wyatt fell heavily on his back, made more painful from the bruises from the Ojbestia the day before.

At first he thought he had hit his head, seeing something white swirl across his eyes, across the blue sky. He stood up suddenly, realizing it wasn’t an illusion he was seeing, but the flying white object was real. It was the Water Wraith’s spirit. Wyatt laughed, the soul wasn’t blue but white, showing that it was a spirit, here to stay.

But it was lost- Wyatt returned his scythe to his spine, trying to run as fast as his crippled body could go to catch up with the thing. He felt down his chest belt, refusing to take his eye off the spirit, and grabbed a jar and stopped. 

“HEY!” the spirit slowly circled so that it was facing his direction. He untwisted the golden cap from the magical jar. With it opened, it acted like a vacuum, at first the spirit tried to fight it, trying to fly away, but where would it go? Wyatt was glad to see it stopped fighting, becoming smaller and smaller till it was fully sucked into the jar. Wyatt stared at the soul, now asleep in the jar. It had accepted it as its home. Wyatt smiled, then groaned as gallons of water fell from the sky, soaking him and, unfortunately, his once dry bundle of clothes that he stood by. He forgot that the physical body turned to water-

Ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψᨒ↟↟𖤣𖥧ψ

Wyatt and Amelia sat on the stairs together. Wyatt ate a sandwich and drank, watching Amelia as she watched the spirit. 

“So… it’s stuck in there?” She tapped the glass, waking the spirit, which opened a single blind eye to… well Decker didn’t really know since it couldn’t see. 

“Yep. He’s mine now.”

“Isn’t that cruel though, to leave him in such a small jar?”

Decker smiled, happy to meet someone that actually cared somewhat for the beasts he hunted. “No, if anything, he’s happier. Their whole purpose in ‘life’ I guess, is to find things. The main thing they look for is a home, and I’ve given it to him.” He picked up the jar and put it into his chest strap. He was still in his undergarments, his clothes hanging on the line with Amelia’s sheets. “I’ll let him out when I need to find” he paused, hope making his chest swell, blocking his throat for a moment, “something- but for right now he needs to rest in his jar.” 

The two talked till the sky turned orange and the sun began to set. Amelia had given him ice for his bruises and let him sleep on her porch for a while. He had learned a lot about her, and her husband. He seemed like a great, kind and loving man, and Wyatt silently hoped that the Water Wraith wasn’t his soul. But that would be a sorry choice- he thought He was a miner so he’d probably turn into a Masher, that is, if he couldn’t move on. 

Amelia helped him up, probably with more ease than a man. She helped him get his now mostly dry clothes and gear from the line, then told him to meet her at the porch again after he had changed.

“I hope it’s enough-” she said, putting a few bills and coins in his hand. 

“It’s more than enough. Are you sure-” 

She kissed him on the cheek and grinned at him. “I’m sure. Goodbye Mr. Wyatt. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.” Her face broke into a smile, then she went back into her house and didn’t come back out.

Wyatt grinned. “Goodbye Mrs. Hemmingways.”

Decker Wyatt mounted his horse, who was fully rested and fed, and urged him on to a trot, riding into the sunset.

Only when he was sure he was far away enough did he wipe the kiss away with his sleeve.

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