The flickering glow of the oil lamps cast long shadows across the wooden walls of Chief Elder Oxor’s office. The air inside was heavy, not just with the scent of parchment and ink but with the weight of grim news.
Elite Hunter Mardoc and his team stood at attention, their expressions solemn. Their boots, still caked with dirt from the wilds, remained firmly planted on the floor as if to keep themselves from sinking under the burden of what they were about to report.
"Chief, we’ve confirmed it," Mardoc said, his voice steady but tinged with sorrow. "The two missing individuals are dead."
He took a breath before continuing. "We found traces of a Fierce Gator in the area. It looks like they were eaten by the beast."
Oxor exhaled, a deep, weary sigh escaping him as he closed his eyes for a brief moment. "I see… what a pity," he muttered. "Inform their families and provide them with proper compensation."
"Yes, sir," Mardoc replied with a firm nod.
Oxor pinched the bridge of his nose, his exhaustion seeping into his very bones. His duties were never easy, but delivering news of death was among the worst. "You’re dismissed," he said, his voice quieter than before.
With a salute, Mardoc and his team turned and left, their heavy footsteps echoing in the chamber.
Once the door shut behind them, Oxor slumped further into his chair. His fingers drummed against the armrest as his mind wandered through the implications of these losses. The hunt was meant to train the young hunters, to prepare them for the dangers beyond the village. But instead, it had taken their lives.
A sudden knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Enter," he called, straightening his posture.
His secretary stepped inside, a stack of reports in her arms. She moved swiftly, but there was an unusual stiffness in her demeanor. When she stopped before his desk, she hesitated before speaking.
"Sir, we have a problem," she said, handing him the topmost document.
Oxor frowned, taking the paper. "A problem?"
His eyes scanned the document, and as he read further, his hands trembled slightly. The Antilla beast had attacked the camp directly. It wasn’t just the four dead trainees—it was an unprecedented disaster.
Oxor’s grip on the paper tightened. His mouth became a thin line.
Another loss. Another tragedy.
And something told him this was only the beginning.
TWO DAYS LATER
The return of the hunters should have been a moment of celebration. Instead, it was a march weighed down by grief.
The villagers greeted them with warm smiles, blissfully unaware of what had happened beyond their borders. Children ran up to meet their older siblings, wives rushed to embrace their husbands.
At the head of the returning group, Chief Elder Oxor walked with a grave expression, his hands clasped behind his back.
Dacay, one of the senior hunters, stepped forward, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head.
"Chief… I’m sorry." His voice cracked under the weight of guilt.
Oxor placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "It was an unfortunate accident, a tragedy no one wished for."
The villagers exchanged puzzled looks. They could sense the heavy atmosphere, but no one understood why.
Oxor took a deep breath, then turned to face the gathered crowd.
"Everyone, I bring terrible news," he announced. "Four trainees lost their lives during the last hunt."
A wave of gasps swept through the village. Whispers turned into murmurs of panic. Fear took hold—was their son or daughter among the dead?
Oxor took another deep breath and began listing the names of the fallen. With each name, the weight on his shoulders grew heavier.
A mother collapsed to her knees, wailing, clutching at the earth as if she could will it to take her instead. A father stood frozen, his face blank, as though reality had shattered before him. Siblings clung to each other, their young minds unable to process the loss.
Those whose children had been spared exhaled, but their relief was swallowed by the shared grief of their neighbors.
Oxor lowered his head. "I deeply apologize for this tragedy and for any shortcomings on my part."
He bowed low, his graying hair falling over his face.
When he straightened, his voice was steady but strained. "For those who have lost their children, I promise proper compensation. And for our fallen hunters, we will hold a ceremony to honor them."
"Starting tomorrow, we will observe a week-long mourning ceremony for our fallen hunters," Chief Elder Oxor declared.
The village fell into silence. Then, the cries of grieving families filled the air like a sorrowful hymn.
Mothers clutched their chests as if their hearts had been ripped from them. Fathers stood rigid, their fists clenched so tightly that their knuckles turned white. The younger children, too young to fully understand, clung to their parents, their wide eyes filled with confusion and fear.
Watching them, Oxor felt something twist deep within him.
In all his years leading this village, he had faced war, famine, and hardship. But no matter how many times he stood before mourning families, it never got easier.
The loss of a hunter was not just the loss of an individual. It was the loss of a protector. A provider. A future. And now, four young lives had been cut short before they had even been given the chance to prove themselves.
The village, once filled with the sounds of daily life, had grown eerily silent. Even those who had been spared from tragedy wore solemn expressions, their relief overshadowed by sympathy.
Oxor took a step forward. "I know words cannot bring them back, nor can they ease your grief. But I promise you this—our village will not forget them. Their names will be etched into our history, and their bravery will be honored."
He turned to his secretary. "Prepare the ceremony. Ensure their families are given everything they need."
"Yes, Chief," she replied softly.
Oxor exhaled, the weight of responsibility pressing even harder against his shoulders.
This was only the beginning of the grief they would endure.
The world beyond their village was ruthless, and tragedies like this would not be the last.
But for now, they would mourn. For now, they would remember.
INSIDE THE HUNTER HALL CHIEF ELDER OFFICE
The dim light of the oil lamps flickered, casting shifting shadows along the wooden walls of Chief Elder Oxor’s office. The air was thick with tension as he sat behind his heavy oak desk, his fingers interlocked, his expression grim. Across from him stood Lucy, Daisy, and Henry, their shoulders stiff, their faces betraying a mix of guilt and defiance.
Oxor's gaze bore into them, unwavering and sharp. "I heard what you did," he said, his voice stern and laced with disappointment.
Lucy and Daisy blinked, taken aback by the weight of his tone.
"Did you even think before acting?" Oxor continued, his voice rising ever so slightly. "I made you leaders because I trusted that you knew what to do. I believed you wouldn’t put the trainees in danger. But I was wrong."
Daisy clenched her fists, biting her lip to keep from speaking out of turn. Henry, however, took a step forward.
"But Elder, that was an accident," Henry said, his voice respectful but firm. "We didn’t know there was an Antilla in the hunting grounds."
Oxor’s cold stare shifted to Henry, pinning him in place. Henry felt his body tense as a sudden chill ran down his spine.
"Accident?" Oxor’s voice was calm, but that only made it more terrifying. "Do you not realize that many accidents can be avoided?"
Silence filled the room. Henry swallowed hard.
"If you had stuck to the original plan—hunting as a group, staying within the designated perimeter—none of this would have happened," Oxor continued, his fingers tapping against the wooden desk. "Instead, you went deeper into the forest, disregarded protocol, and took unnecessary risks."
Daisy finally snapped. "Elder, we were trying to prove ourselves!" she blurted out, her voice tight with frustration. "The village relies on strong hunters. We thought—"
"You thought?" Oxor cut in sharply. "And because of that, four young lives are gone. Four families are mourning."
Daisy’s breath hitched. She lowered her gaze, her previous defiance now replaced with guilt.
Oxor leaned back in his chair, exhaling a deep, weary sigh. "You three are not the only ones suffering from this loss," he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. "I, too, carry the weight of every death in this village. But being a leader is not about proving yourself. It is about protecting those who look up to you. And in that, you have failed."
The words struck harder than any physical blow. Lucy, Daisy, and Henry remained silent, the reality of their actions settling heavily on their shoulders.
Oxor studied their faces for a long moment before speaking again. "You will not be stripped of your positions," he said, making them lift their heads in surprise. "But from this day forward, you will carry this burden, and you will learn from it. Leadership is earned not by reckless bravery, but by wisdom and responsibility."
He gestured toward the door. "You are dismissed. Reflect on what has happened. And make sure it never happens again."
Lucy and Daisy bowed their heads in shame. Henry hesitated before doing the same. Then, without another word, they turned and left the office.
As the door shut behind them, Oxor let out a deep sigh and pressed his fingers to his temples.
Another lesson learned.
Another scar left behind.