Orn had been shocked by how easily his parents had accepted that he had to go wandering through the forest. Instead of worried or sad they just muttered how they were “proud,” and “great challenges give greater rewards.” Uncle’s interjections about that being nonsense, went completely unheard by everyone else.

In the week since they left the village, Uncle had repeated them until Orn could repeat them in his sleep. “Are you listening to me Orn?”

Not bothering to look away for the path, Orn walked past uncle. “Yes, Uncle. Trollen’s son cut his hand badly, and got the same blessings as everyone else.”

“Only got the same blessings,” Uncle emphasized the word. “And had to traipse all over the forest to get it. He was out here wandering for years trying to finish that challenge.”

Orn listened while he looked at the fork in the path ahead. Closing his eyes like he had done dozens of times before, he tried to feel which direction the pull came from. After a moment he felt a distinct tug to the left. Pointing in the direction of the pull, he opened his eyes. “That way.”

“Hm,” Uncle half replied then started leading the way down the left fork. “I see we are going further toward the center of the forest. Are you sure it is a tree? As we get closer, it feels as though whatever it is, is moving.”

“Everyone said it was a tree,” Orn replied falling in behind the hunter. “Why do you think it is moving?”

Uncle chuckled, “because I have received the forest’s blessings. That means I know always know where the border stones are. Recently you have been pointing further and further away from where we were originally going.”

Orn was about to ask, how that part of the blessing worked when Uncle raised his hand suddenly. Recognizing the signal, Orn froze and began to scan the trees around them.

After a few moments, Uncle seemed to relax and whispered for him to follow quietly. Orn nodded and followed his uncle to a tree with a wide chunk of its bark torn off. Uncle probed at the torn wood of the tree, with his finger and looked around. Nodding to himself he pointed at the damaged tree. “This was done by a monster, probably a hob. We need to be very careful, from now on. Hobs are not terribly dangerous, but any monster can kill you if you let them sneak up on you. It’s worse if they come in large numbers. Fortunately this one is probably young and looks to be teething.”

Orn’s eyes grew wide and stared a the injured tree. Long gouges were torn in the tree. Intermixed with them were puncture marks as large as his hands. If those are bite marks it could swallow me whole.

“Now we have a long way to go on this trip, but this is worth a small detour. Best to start getting you adjusted to them now.” Uncle said looking toward a bush with several broken branches.

...

Orn started as the creature walked out of the clearing. The figure’s mottled skin caused it to quickly disappear into the shadows. Once it was gone, he turned to stare at Uncle. The older man nodded slowly and gestured for them to head back. Ever since Uncle had spotted the markings of the first hob, Uncle had made a habit of taking Orn to see every monster whose path they encountered.

On walked in silence thinking back on the monsters he had seen. There is no other way to describe those things.

No matter how many hobs he saw he could not help but shiver thinking about them. There was just something in the atmosphere about them that was unnatural.

Uncle motioned for him to relax, “We should be far enough now. What did you think?”

“It is a lot bigger than the last two, but not quite as eerie. How big do they get?” Orn looked nervously behind him. Something about the creatures set him on edge.

Uncle chuckled and patted him on the back. “That you thought it was not as bad as the others, means you are starting to adjust to them like I hoped. That is about as big as they get, a full grown Hobgoblin. So while we wait for it to wander away a bit, remind me what I told you about them.”

Orn took a slow breath trying to push away the feeling that the creatures always left him with. “It was a Hobgoblin, though most just call them Hobs. Hobs are what happens when a goblin gets big. They go out on their own and eat anything they can get their hands on. Eventually they form groups, and one becomes a queen. No one knows how that happens though. Is that one going to be a queen soon?”

Orn saw the older hunter’s expression sour at the last part, and continued. “Should we get more hunters so we can deal with it?”

“No,” Uncle patted his back. “We hunt them on occasion, but that one will be fine. We are far from anyone’s home so it will not do any harm. Even if it becomes a queen.”

“But it is dangerous,” Orn replied trying to keep his voice calm, “And if it becomes a queen it will create more of them.” Orn started rushing through the words. He felt the world would be a better place if the thing and all its kind were destroyed as soon as possible.

“Breathe boy. We have reasons to leave some alive. Besides every adult hunter kills one as a rite of passage. So we have to leave at least a few around. They are dangerous, but in time you will learn who to handle them.” Uncle patted on the shoulder again and started moving, “I understand the feeling though, and that is why we are doing this. Something about them causes fear deep inside everyone. Being exposed to it makes the feeling fade, just give it time. Though if we spend a lot longer in this part of the woods, that will happen sooner rather than later.”

[A lost home]

Miles away in the direction Orn pointed, a dryad crouched behind a bush. She watched silently waiting for creature ahead of her to head back towards its parent. Watching the creature slowly wander back toward her former home she internally spat abuses at it. … Foul shadow spawn. May you and your carrion feasting ilk find only suffering and doom for what you have done.

Images of the tree she had lived in for so long came to mind, and she had to stop herself from crying. A beautiful old oak on a large mound of earth. The feeling of the sun on its leaves had lulled her to sleep for so long. But then they came.

She glared in the direction the small creature had disappeared, but then you had to come. You could of dug your home into the side of any hill, but you had to cut the roots of my tree.

Shaking her head, and wiping at her eyes, she turned from the direction of her home. I need to find a new home, a safer one...

If she was honest with herself, she did not know why she had chosen this direction. But something deep down told her she would find a new tree this way.