He moved steadily through the forest, where a lingering warmth clung to the air despite the crispness of autumn.
Each step he took sent a soft crunch echoing through the trees as the dried Autumn leaves crumbled beneath his boots.
The faint smell of earth and decay filled his senses as he passed by a rotting fluffy corpse.
A reminder of the season’s slow transition. He paused briefly to adjust the strap of his bow slung across his shoulder, ensuring it rested comfortably for the long trek ahead.
His breath emerged in visible puffs, curling into the cool air before dissipating.
He pressed on As Hunger gnawed at him pulling the sled behind him.
His eyes scanned the undergrowth for familiar green sprigs. He found a patch of rosemary, its needles brushing against his fingers as he cut a few sprigs. And tucked them into one of the baskets stacked on the sled.
Further along the path, he came across some thyme, its tiny leaves clinging to delicate stems. He knew this herb well, he would use it in soup.
Near the edge of a sunlit clearing, He spotted sage, its soft, silvery leaves standing out against the darker foliage. He picked several sprigs, noticing pieces have been chewed leaving a trail of bits.
Not far from the trail was shredded and Bitten cluster of parsley, its faded green leaves were scattered against the forest floor. He let a deep Sigh “Of Course” as he harvested it carefully
He heard fluffy chatter as he stuffed their herbs into the basket and carefully got closer to the sound of a stream hiding behind a tree.
A herd of plump fluffy—was grazing near the edge of the stream. His stomach tightened at the sight;
He retrieved his bow from his back and looked for the traps he had set earlier—hidden pits covered with leaves and old bear traps strategically placed near trails little hoof prints were often seen. He crept closer to the herd.
With a sharp whistle, Elias sent the herd of fluffy into a frenzy. They scattered in all directions, some darting into the forest while others unknowingly rushed straight into his traps. A few tumbled into concealed pits covered with leaves, their startled cries piercing the quiet woods. Others were caught by the old bear traps, the metal snapping shut around their legs with brutal precision.
“Wun away leggies”
“SCWEEEE nu gib huwwies meaine metaw munsta to bestes’ fwuffie”
“Huhuhu wet soon mummah go, dawkies howe nu gud fo’ babbehs”
Elias quickly set an arrow, his movements calm and practiced. He aimed at one of the fleeing fluffy and let the string fly. The arrow struck the rib, as the fluffy spit up blood.
"Nu nu, boo boo juice stays in fwuffie
Another fluffy stumbled as it tried to escape but fell victim to one of his traps instead. he began gathering the fluffy bodies. He tied each fluffy’s legs together with sturdy twine for easier transport, ensuring none were left behind. Though the hunt had gone well overall, he couldn’t help but feel a frustration as he noticed two fluffies that had fled toward the stream and drowned in its icy waters.
He mumbled “Shit! That a couple of meals down the drain”"
Once the fluffy were secured, he began stacking them neatly onto his sled, arranging them so their weight was evenly distributed. The sled, a simple wooden structure he had built himself, groaned slightly under the fat load but held firm. He looped the rope attached to the sled over his shoulder and adjusted it until it sat comfortably across his chest.
the soft scrape of the sled’s runners against dirt and leaves. The weight behind him was heavy, but Elias pressed forward with determination. The path back to his cabin was winding and uneven, but he knew it well.
The sled dragged behind him as he navigated through narrow trails and over small rises in the terrain. Occasionally, he paused to catch his breath or adjust the rope across his shoulder. Despite the physical strain,
" Damn Fluffies, what do these Fatass eat"
“Fwuffie nu fatass”
“That belly says otherwise”
“Hu hu”
Finally, after what felt like hours hearing the cries and begging of the bouned fluffy, He saw the familiar outline of his cabin through the trees.
He had senn the cabin he stumbled upon weeks ago that he made his home, a worn and weathered structure with its roof sagging under years of neglect and one corner caved in. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was shelter, and shelter was all he needed. The walls, though battered, were sturdy enough to keep the biting wind out, offering a reprieve from the relentless chill that clawed at him during the nights.
With determination and effort, he had patched up the holes using chopped wood and twine scavenged from nearby. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but than sleeping outside, feeling frost creeping over his skin praying not to freeze to death.
Elias grabbed the soon mother, a mare and two staillons, put them in separate pens he had built inside the cabin. The pens were simple structures made of wood and wire, intended for temporary holding. As he carried them gently to their new confines, their small bodies trembled in his hands, their eyes wide with terror.
The soon mother thrashed weakly as he placed her into one pen, her movements sluggish from exhaustion and fear. She let out soft, mournful cries
“Nu nu, soon mummah am gud fwuffie nu sowwy bocks huhu”"
He threw a cover over the makeshift pens.
Yet the remaining fluffy were not so fortunate. As he worked quickly and methodically to dispatch them, ensuring as he worked, his knife moving with practiced precision.
He picked up a blue fluffy with floppy ears, its bloody leg barely holding together. “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he muttered, With a slice of his knife, he cut into the fluffy’s belly, spilling out it’s inners
The staillon scream “SCREEE NU WORST HURTIES”" as he pulled the inners one by one putting them aside in a old wooden bowl.
The staillon’s eyes went dull as he carefully removed the pelt and sat its meaty body over on the table side for later storage.
He grabbed A Crismon colored fluffy as it Bit his hand.
“Oh you Fucker” He yelled as The staillon drop on table with a thump the staillon tried to run before The young man yelled
"You thought you could escape me you little bastard?” he grabbed the crimson staillon by its worn leg.
“Not today!” With a swift motion, he slammed it belly first into the table until its leg gave way with a satisfying snap. Inners spilled out like turkey stuffing. The staillon’s lifeless body fell to the table as he turned to his next victim.
The disgustingly bright yellow mare was next— “Fluffy for Wuv and hug-” he sliced off its legs sliced clean off and a loud “SCREEEE” was let out from the mare but her legs were set aside for future use. By the end of the night, Elias had repurposed every piece of fluffy pelt into patches and pillows, leaving behind only the meat that he putting in food storage with dangling herbs drying above.
(A good harvest tonight) he thought
Once his work was done for the evening, he stepped back into the other room to check on the soon mother fluffy, the mare and the two staillons. The pens were quiet now, expect for the occasional rustle of movement.
he lifted up the cover as The soon mother fluffy sat motionless in her enclosure, her ears pressed flat against her Fat plump body as she stared at him with wary eyes. The two Staillons remained curled up together, they trembling slightly.
He crouched beside the pens, studying them silently. He wasn’t sure what he would do with them yet As he petted both stallions manes. He moved on and checked on the other mare he felt her belly to make sure was passed and not dead.
“Sigh, she just passed out”
(perhaps they could be kept alive for breeding) he thought, but For now, though, he decided to let them be. He placed a small handful of dried herbs and scraps of vegetables into each pen.
He put the covers back over the cage as he cleaned his bloodied tools and prepared a simple meal of smoked fluffy meat as digged in let the warm inners fill his mouth and drinking the paired mint tea. The cabin was warm and filled with earthy scents from drying herbs and freshly prepared pelts, before retreating back into makeshift bed tossing a another log into the fireplace to make sure it lasted the night.
Then he saw it—the first snowflake drifting lazily through the crack in the ceiling air before landing on his sleeve. He stared at it for a moment as more began to fall outside the cabin him, dusting the ground in white…
Winter had now arrived.