The Hunters by Vlikmit Kovsh (Patreon)

“Where are you going?” she asked him, completely aware of what his answer would be.

“I’m going home, nianda,” he answered, securing his pack. His words were as strong and confident as ever, but she could hear the sadness in them. They met only recently, but the bond between them was as strong as she had ever felt for another. The scarred wolf had become someone special in such a short time. It was almost absurd how much she cared for him.

“Nianda?” she asked, questioning his use of his native tongue. 

“Forget it... I must be leaving.” He replied.

They’d only just met, but they’d gone through so much together. Though it was tragedy that made them allies, it was something else entirely that kept them together these past four months. Champa could not just let him leave. Especially when she knew what was in store for him.

“You can’t hunt this guy alone, Torian. You saw what he did...” she warned, remembering just how powerful their prey was. Torian simply grunted and fixed the straps on his sheath.

“I am aware. It is for that reason I must hunt him.” 

Champa and Torian were both exemplaries of their culture. Hunters whose duties far exceeded the original definition of the title given to them. Champa, a huntress of the Palawa, was tasked not only with the safety and security of her tribe, but the responsibility of hunting down and eliminating Palawan criminals whose actions negatively affected her people. These criminals were almost exclusively the so called Palawan Mystics, Shamans from the Palawan culture who dealt in dangerous and subversive magic. The prey that Torian sought was one their ilk. A particularly powerful one.

To combat their magic, Huntress’ of the Palawa are trained in ancient techniques to control their quintessence in order to augment their physical abilities. Strength, speed, defense, senses, all can be enhanced by the Palawan ability to control their Lalka or Soul Mind. What the average Therian referred to as quintessence. Champa’s Soul Mind was particularly strong and she was well trained in controlling and manipulating it. She’d been a once in a generation talent, of course it would fall on her to hunt down a vile fiend like Mokoi. It was what was expected of her. What she hadn’t expected was to find an ally like Torian.

Torian Akuja was a hunter from the far north, a land called Amarok. Champa had heard of his kind, nukilik, those with a preternatural affinity with the flow. Their hunters, known as Imakandi, were believed to be the best trackers in all the world. Having spent time with Torian, Champa had found out why. Nukilik like Torian could perceive changes in the flow like a fish could feel the ripples in the water. They could reach out great distances and track others soul minds, and Torian was one of the best. She had been grateful to have him by her side as she tracked down the wicked shaman.

“And you intend to do this alone?” Champa asked. Torian didn’t answer. A long pause was followed by loud, audible, breathing.

“This is no longer a matter for your concern,” the black wolf managed to say through gritted teeth. Champa sighed, running her hands through her long curly white hair. She knew why the gold eyed lupine would say such a thing, but it didn’t calm her growing anger. It was her self control that did that.

“You’re emotional, little warrior. So I will let that pass,” She said sternly. Her amber eyes bore into the back of he head and the timberwolf refused to meet her gaze. Torian paused for another long moment  before scoffing.

“You know what I mean.”

Champa moved around him deftly, making sure she stood between him and the exit.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. Torian did not meet her eyes. He simply shook his head and tried to push past her. Barely able to contain her anger, she placed her hand on the wolf’s shoulder and held him.

“There was no way we could have known,” Champa reminded. Remarking solemnly on a decision long since made. Torian’s eyebrows narrowed, but he could still not meet her gaze. His eyes burned under the shade of his voluminous, black hair. His teeth, glistened white against his black fur as he tried desperately to hold back his rage. The wealth of emotions inside of him were stirring up and he couldn’t contain them for much longer. It took every bit of his effort not to lash out at the beautiful wakaleo standing before him.

“I’m leaving,” he snarled.

She knew the Imakandi’s problem and the source of his rage. Champa had made a decision that costed the lives of a few of his kin. Mere cubs who had been victims of Mokoi. They had worked together to track the bastard down and had cut a bloody swath through his followers and protectors to reach his lair.  Everything was going well until they were presented with an impossible choice; pursue Mokoi or tend to the kidnapped Palawan children. 

Torian had insisted the Palawa would be fine. They weren’t in any immediate danger and they could come back and free them after Mokoi was dealt with. Champa refused to wait, wanting her tribesmen and women to be free of the magical contraptions that the shaman had them bound to. The decision had lost them considerable time and ended up costing precious lives. While they freed the Palawa, Mokoi used his unholy devices to drain the quintessence of the stolen Amaroki children, killing them all. To make matters worse, the boost in power was enough to give the mad shaman an advantage over his pursuers. Torian and Champa had barely made it out with their lives.

In all of his years as ‘doyen’ of a his own pack, Torian had never failed so completely. Worse, Mokoi had almost guaranteed that he would return to the expanse to prey upon more young Amaroki, mocking the hunter and suggesting his peoples legendary tracking skills were nothing if they could not defeat him when found. The insult wasn’t as hard to bear as the truth it revealed. The reality was a open wound that ached terribly.

“I am not leaving your side, Torian,’ Champa declared, embracing him. Torian moved to free himself from her, but without calling upon his inua, he didn’t have a hope of overpowering the Palawan Huntress.

“I don’t...” before he could get the words out of his mouth, Champa head butted him, hard. Stars and colors formed in his vision and the pain of the blow almost took him off his feet. Had she not been holding him, Torian was certain he’d fall.

“You are a man, doyen. One I have acknowledge. Do not dishonor me by behaving like a child!” She growled. Torian wished to fight back. It was in every bit of his nature to do so, but an unavoidable glance into Champa’s eyes stopped him. He’d never seen the warrior women look so distraught. She was almost to tears.

“I know it’s my fault...” she whispered. 

Torian grumbled and growled, trying his best to hang on to the haze of anger that had gripped him since the incident. But he couldn’t. Champa’s earnestness and honesty was burning away his resolve. He knew deep in his heart she was right. There wasn’t a way he could have known, but he also knew that had it been anyone else, he’d have ignored their suggestion and pursued Mokoi. Champa had in a short time gained his trust, his respect and more. He feared if he continued to travel with her, she’d further compromise his judgement. 

“That’s unfair,” he then thought. Finally truly looking at her. She’d set out to save her people. When presented with the opportunity to save them, she’d taken it. Catching or killing Mokoi was secondary to the safety of those children. It was petty misfortune that the Amaroki children had suffered for that decision and he was blaming her for that. He knew he was, but it was hard to reconcile his feelings. 

Without warning, Champa changed tactics. She released her hug and grabbed his face. Torian had been lost in thought, so again he was late in mounting any kind of a defense. His horribly lowered guard was sign enough that he’d gotten far too comfortable with Champa. Despite the fact that she was physically strong enough to effortlessly squeeze his head apart like a melon, the black wolf hadn’t so much as flinched any time she’d moved about him. As she pulled him closer and kissed him, he realized he didn’t need to ask why he trusted her so much.

Kissing her back, Torian felt the tension in his shoulders relax and the cloud of anger subside. He reached up, wrapping his arms around Champa’s neck and kissed her more intensely. Encouraged by this, she kissed him more deeply and the two stood their for a long while, reaffirming their unspoken affection for one another. In the end it was Champa who ended the kiss. Gingerly she moved her head back and looked at him, her eyes glistening, as if she wanted to cry, but Torian knew she wouldn’t. She was a prideful and powerful woman, it would take more than this to break her down.

“I won’t be left behind...” she stated simply. Torian nodded, unable to hold back his smile.

“Very well, nianda... let’s go.” he replied. The smile on Champa’s face was enough to brighten the room. Torian paid her no mind. He was focused on not relieving just how relieved he was that they’d settled the situation. Instead, he simply made his way out of the room as he always intended. This time, Champa did not stop him, she simply followed.

It took three weeks of hard travel to make it back to Amarok. Mokoi had done nothing to disguise his movements. He knew the two hunters would be coming for him, and now he was confident in chances of defeating them. Torian believed this overconfidence would be Mokoi’s downfall. The bastard had done unspeakable things in order to survive just the two of them, now he meant to hide in a country where Imakandi like Torian were common. An error made of equal parts challenge and arrogance. Torian would make him regret it. 

“I have a scent...” Champa proclaimed, flaring up her soul mind. Torian could see she was anxious to get started. With his abilities, he could see her inua flowing off of her. It resolved as an orange aura that glowed about her body. Her’s was one of the most powerful he’d ever seen. He couldn’t but smile thinking of how Champa wa as dangerous as she was beautiful. With his sword in hand, his eyes glowed, as he called upon the powers within. Staring deeply into a vast ocean of energy that only he could see, Torian stood tall and firm, his thick, black hair whipping behind him in the wind. With a look of determination on his he declared;

“Then let’s go, hunt’s on!” 

The art for this piece was drawn by Vlikmit. They are an incredibly talented artist that need way more love than they get. If you could do me a solid and go show them some love, I'd appreciate it. They can be found on FA @

 http://www.furaffinity.net/user/vlikmitkovsh/