Traveller Inceptio
40

For the next three days, they hunted feral pigs. A tough and physically demanding activity, the men loved the fresh air, excitement, and the hunt. What made the experience even more interesting was the unrestrained rivalry between Blue and Wallace. They competed on everything—who had the best dogs, the biggest kill, and who killed first—so naturally their teams adopted this competitive nature and all too often pushed the limit of safety.

This danger was highlighted on the third day when Hunter and his team ran in pursuit of a large boar in impenetrable, thick scrub. He burst through the heather to witness a chaotic scene as Wallace’s lead dog, Prince, had latched onto a gigantic black boar’s snout while another seized the boar’s testicles. Alongside the boar’s shrill screams of pain and fury rang yelps of agony from a young dog that was down with a gash to its belly. Intestines were strewn as it yelped in terror and struggled to stand, slipping on its own guts that were trampled into the mud and heather. In the melee, the other dogs ran around barking madly, for the smell of blood and the shrill cries of the injured dog seemed to distract the other dogs as they unsuccessfully vied to grasp the boar’s ears. Hunter could see the pig was straining at Prince’s hold on its nose and, despite its pain, risked escape. In the struggle, the beast struck the dog at the rear with a leg, causing a yelp and temporary release on its hold that freed the beast enough to thrust at Prince, who hung on with stubborn fury.

Without a thought, Hunter threw himself onto the mountainous, bristly back of the pig. It twisted savagely while Hunter’s feet struggled for purchase. He pulled his knife free to thrust it into the pig’s neck, but he missed as the creature pulled back in alarm and the blade bit deeply into its face. Hunter stabbed, again and again, this time stabbing downwards into the back of the creature’s neck, for he feared the pig was about to get away, which would surely result in his injury or even death. He stabbed as fast as he could. The pig screamed deafeningly as it scythed at its tormentor, for Prince had lost his hold. The boar shook its tattered snout and scattered blood as the long, yellow tusks sought Hunters legs, but the long blade finally struck something vital and the beast collapsed and was suddenly silent, sighing out its last breath as life finally slipped away.

Hunter rolled off and into a crouch, prepared to jump aside, but he saw the immediate danger was past. With the battle over, Wallace’s dogs savaged the carcass. Morris and Leishman watched with open mouths. “Sorry, Hunter, we just couldn’t help,” shrugged Leishman in embarrassment.

“Well done, sir. That was absolutely crazy.” Morris slapped his shoulder in support, “Man, that was some crazy shit, Hunter. You’re almost as mad as the Kiwis.” As he stood, Hunter realised he was covered in blood, mud, and all sorts of excreta from both the pig and the dog. He struggled to find a clean piece of his Swanndri with which he could wipe his face. Morris laughed gently at his struggle.

Ignoring Hunter, Wallace crouched sadly over his injured dog. The large, muscular canine barked and yelped noisily. Wallace cooed and muttered endearments as he tried to give comfort. They watched as Wallace hugged the thrashing, panicked animal. There was no way any beast or human could survive those injuries. Even if it they managed to get the dog to a vet, infection would kill it. The intestines had been trampled and Hunter realised, with a chill, that it could have been his guts strewn in the mud. That thought was promptly pushed aside. Wallace held the dog firmly, pulled out his knife, neatly cut the leather cords to free the dog’s leather collar and then cut the dog’s throat, holding it lovingly as it struggled, convulsed and died. Blood soaked into his jacket while big tears rolled down his cheeks.

The men watched in sympathy and understood Wallace, the big man with a big heart. He caressed the dog’s ears as its eyes faded and it legs trembled and then, effortlessly, he cut the protruding guts free and picked up the dog’s limp body while the others prepared the pig for the hike back to camp. The pig was so heavy that it took the best efforts of the three soldiers to carry it. They had made the kill in a valley, so the recovery was torturous as they struggled up ravines and through wildly running creeks where water cascaded over slippery boulders. Wallace was oblivious to their struggle as he effortlessly carried the dead dog, his head bent over the body as he wept.

The team’s boar turned out to be bigger than any killed, but the big man didn’t savour his victory. Too disconsolate to gloat, Wallace carefully placed the dog’s body onto the back of the truck with the pigs they had killed that day, and with a clash of gears, promptly drove off. He would bury the dog near the settlement as he could not trust any grave at the campsite would be safe from scavenging pigs.

He hadn’t even eaten.

Early the next day, the men were transported on the back of trucks to a camp by a creek where pale-blue, glacial water tumbled. The surrounding forest had a most serene feeling and he could imagine why their trainers decided to drop out of the world and escape. Once they had stowed their gear under canvas, Kai and Wallace unpacked archery equipment while the women, who had obviously decided the activities at the camps were too exciting to miss, prepared yet another huge meal. Wallace was still shattered over the death of his dog and greatly appreciated the show of support from his team. He seemed to have taken a shine to Hunter, probably because he had killed the pig that had finished the dog.

This new camp was to offer new hunting experiences. Kai and Wallace distributed hunting bows and arrows and there was no sign of any dogs. Each member of the team was familiar in the use of stringed weapons for the silent disposal of guards. Crossbows were a weapon of choice with many Special Forces, but two of the Americans, Anderson and Kitchener, were highly experienced bow hunters. That morning the team spent hours practicing archery by firing at targets attached to hay bales. Later they went in search of red deer that infested the area. Like the pigs, deer weren’t native to New Zealand, but were British imports. In the new land, their population had exploded. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Though not as mountainous as the pig-hunting area, the men hiked through hilly terrain with a different, rugged beauty. Because they hunted without dogs, theirs was a slower and more silent advance. Most, including Hunter, wore camo gear, mainly because his filthy Swanndri was being washed by the women and would no doubt take days to dry. At the end of the day, Kai’s team returned to camp in celebration, having killed a young buck. Bagged by Kitchener and Anderson, the beautiful creature had an eight-point antler set, which the Maoris said was okay, but not as impressive as some stags in the area. As winter was just around the corner, this was the ideal hunting season.

The young woman who had taken a shine to Poxon had shown true Special Forces tenacity, and to the amusement of the rest of the team, slowly worked her way into his heart and, Hurley suggested, into his pants. Anderson had seen them emerging from a walk in the forest, hand in hand, and had commented that Poxon was grinning ‘like a cow eating thistle’.

The days sped by and their hunting skills dramatically improved. The novices learned how to stay down-wind of prey and best use cover. Highly trained in silent movement through almost any environment, they had more success. Despite his name, Hunter had never been a fan of hunting and had never needed to hunt to survive. In the days that followed, he found the hunting and killing of deer exciting, but sad when the beautiful creatures died with well-placed arrows to the chest.

By the end of their weeks in prime hunting grounds, the men hadn’t only gained experience in traditional hunting, but also collected an impressive stack of trophy antlers. After their time in the wilds of New Zealand, the men felt more prepared for Saxon England than ever.

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