A keen nose was a gift, yet at times it became a torment—such as now for Glen.
He stood in the midst of a swamp, assaulted by the stench of rotting carcasses and animal droppings, the fetid miasma making his eyes roll in disgust.
“Damn it… of all places, these beasts had to flee here,” he muttered under his breath, though his hands never slowed.
Through his bond with the creature, he issued a few terse commands, then swung down from its back, boots sinking into the sucking mire.
Once its master had removed the hunting gear, the beast darted away like lightning and soon vanished into the murk.
Glen stared at the reeking ground and ground his teeth. “All for the sake of coin!”
With that bitter mantra, he drew in a lungful of air, seized the spade he had prepared, and began digging a pitfall.
Catching a few wild boars by force would have been easy for him, but doing so meant transforming—something he could ill afford with no spare clothes.
As the shifting light cast angled shadows through the trees, Glen had soon carved out a pit three meters across, covering it with careful camouflage.
His ears twitched—prey approached.
Perfect timing. He steadied his heart, crouched low within the brush, and smeared his body with muck to mask his scent.
The ground began to thunder with heavy footfalls. Glen frowned in surprise.
How vast must this herd be, to shake the swamp so?
The answer revealed itself an instant later—and it was nothing he had foreseen.
Bursting into view came not boars, but the beast itself, panic writ large in its bearing as it barked desperately toward Glen.
What—? He had no time to think. Behind it thundered a towering humanoid monster, five meters tall, skin the color of stone, naked save for the coarse hemp rope with which it clutched three squealing black boars.
“Heh-heh! You won’t escape! You are mine!” the giant bellowed in a brutish, simple-minded roar.
“Leap, now!” Glen sprang from hiding, shouting the command.
The beast obeyed at once, vaulting the disguised pit and landing clear on the far side.
The giant, heedless, blundered forward—straight into the trap. With a crash and a howl, its massive body plunged into the mire.
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“Cursed pit! Abu hates you!” it bellowed, writhing in pain and rage.
Glen strode from the brush to the panting beast’s side, frowning. “What happened?”
The creature drooped its ears, whining pitifully.
Listening closely, Glen pieced together the truth: all had gone to plan, the beast had herded the swine this way—until this giant had burst in, scattered the prey, stolen three, and chased his companion without pause.
Heat surged in Glen’s chest. He stalked to the pit’s edge and shouted, “Enough howling! Why did you steal my prey, brute?”
His sudden voice caught the giant’s attention. It turned its ugly head and, upon seeing a soft-skinned human, its expression lit with crude delight. “Fortune smiles! A little snack for me today!”
“A snack? Then come claim me,” Glen sneered.
The giant felt the sting of mockery. A mere morsel dared insult it? Rage blazed. “You anger Abu! Abu will chew you to pieces!”
It thrashed in the pit, flinging mud in all directions, yet no effort availed—it only wasted strength.
Glen stood unmoving, waiting until the monster’s frenzy waned. Then, with a thin smile, he said, “Best save your strength, big fellow. Let us bargain: give me the three boars, and I’ll pull you free.”
Abu clutched the pigs tight, suspicion in its glare. “They are mine! Touch them and I’ll eat you!”
“They were mine first! By what right do you claim them?”
“Because Abu says so! All in this forest is mine. I am its king! Even you belong to me!”
“By that logic, if I declare this swamp mine, then it is so? Foolish oaf. Hand them over!”
“Mine! They’re mine! I won’t give them!” Abu roared with childish obstinacy.
Glen’s patience snapped. “Refuse, and rot here in your grave.”
The giant, regaining a measure of strength, struggled anew—then froze. Half its bulk had sunk deeper, the swamp clutching tighter. At last it grasped Glen’s threat.
Looking up in terror, Abu saw man and beast together shoveling muck into the pit.
“Stop! Abu is afraid! Abu does not wish to be buried alive!”
“Yield the prey, and I may spare you,” Glen said coldly, without turning.
“Never! Cowardly weakling! Face Abu in a true duel if you dare!”
The crude taunt only made Glen chuckle. He gave no answer.
But silence did not halt the giant’s torrent of insults. It spewed every foul word it knew, repeating itself endlessly to no effect.
As the black mire crept up to its chest, panic at last overtook it. Abu’s tone cracked. “Wait—perhaps we can speak. Abu will share the prey! Just stop!”
Glen stilled his spade, turning with a faint smile. “Throw them up, and I’ll free you.”
“No! First pull Abu out!”
“You hold no ground for terms. Hand them over—or choke beneath the mud.”
“Damn…” Abu muttered, torn. After a long hesitation, it finally relented. “Fine. Abu trusts you. Keep your word!”
With a grunt, it flung the three black boars to the rim, splattering mud as they landed near Glen.
He inspected them—alive, unmarked, merely unconscious.
“Good. We’ll loosen the mire; you can climb free yourself,” Glen said at last.
He was not one to break his word, not unless greater profit demanded it.
Directing the beast to dig at key points around the trap—carefully, never drawing near the giant—he soon drained enough swamp to ease its burden.
Feeling its strength return, Abu clawed to the pit’s edge, dragging itself up. Glen and the beast ceased their work.
“There. Let us hope our paths cross no more in such unpleasant terms,” Glen said coolly, brushing mud from his hands.
The giant squatted at the pit’s rim, fixing him with a stare. It gave no reply.
For an instant, Glen thought he glimpsed mockery in its eyes.
What trick was this? He had no time to wonder. Just as he signaled his beast to haul the boars away, the hush of the forest shattered with a sudden, explosive sound, making both man and beast recoil in alarm.
