By Michael T Schaper

They stared resentfully at the huntsman as she rode out of town, their gold jangling in her pockets. Her last job for them.

This was a poor town, and its residents could barely afford the fees she charged.

Thea glanced back just the once, glaring at them all until they looked away. “Walk on,” she urged her colt

Hunter and horse left the road and made their way up into the highlands, the climb becoming increasingly steep as they went. The hills above the small village were vertiginous, riddled with unexplored caves and hard to navigate. A perfect hiding place to escape those unfamiliar with the territory, but she knew her way. By late afternoon Thea had reached the point she was looking for.

The sun wouldn’t be setting for another hour or so, which suited her perfectly. Wyverns didn’t usually emerge until late in the evening, and Thea had a clear recollection of where the cave would be. Plenty of time to get there before dusk.

She dismounted and drew her sword. Many years ago she had come to the same place and burnt a previous lair to the ground. The old trail hadn’t changed that much in the meantime.

She left the horse to crop, and didn’t bother to tether it. The colt had been her only companion for some time now, and deserved a fighting chance to escape the monster if she failed to return.

This concludes things, she realised. The last huntsman, and the last monster. Together, one final time.

Thea could hear it now, in the cave in front of her. She crept in closer and regarded the sprawling beast dozing unaware, filling up most of the space within.

A pregnant animal, almost at full term, slow to move and easy to find. Dragged down with the young it was carrying inside, weakened by many months trying to feed both itself and the eggs within her. Unable to eat enough apart from the occasional villager or two down the valley.

Thea looked at her coin pouch. Payment for what was an easy job, she now realised.

How unseemly, she knew. Blood money to wipe out the last of a whole species.

And what would she do next? After she pulled the sword out of its quivering carcass? How does one create a new life, a new livelihood?, she pondered. Huntsmen didn’t take a family, were recruited from orphanages. No one was waiting at home for her after this.

And there’d be no more money. A hunter’s job was to eradicate monsters. Once she removed this final one, no one need pay her again.

She raised her sword, stepped forward to make the fateful plunge, and then stopped.

One wyvern could spawn a dozen offspring. And they bred quickly. In a few years, they’d repopulate all of these hills.

And then they’d need someone to keep the numbers down.

Carefully, slowly, Thea sheathed her sword and stepped back and left quickly, quietly.

Let the wyvern sleep. She didn’t want to short change her pension fund.

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