Chapter 2: The Hunter’s Instinct

  The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine as Sebastian and Charles rode deeper into the woods. The sun had fallen just enough to cast long shadows through the towering trees of Tall Trees, the dense canopy above shifting with the wind. Birds flitted between the branches, their songs occasionally interrupted by the distant rustling of unseen animals.

  Sebastian reined his horse to a stop, narrowing his eyes at the ground. A fresh set of tracks cut through the dirt a large elk, judging by the deep imprints and the width of its stride. He swung his leg over his saddle and slid off his horse, crouching low to examine them closer.

  “Still fresh,” he murmured. His German accent came through slightly as he ran his fingers through the soft earth. “Maybe an hour old.”

  Charles dismounted as well, stepping beside him. “Good sign. Could lead us to a herd.”

  Sebastian nodded, rising to his feet. He adjusted the rifle slung across his back and started forward, following the tracks through the underbrush. The two men moved silently, their steps careful and deliberate, honed by years of tracking.

  For several minutes, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional distant call of a crow. Then, Sebastian caught a new scent in the air something out of place.

  Smoke.

  He slowed his pace and raised a hand for Charles to stop. “You smell that?”

  Charles took a deep breath, then nodded. “Campfire. Not too far.”

  Sebastian’s jaw tightened. Outlaws often traveled through these woods, and fire meant people. People could mean trouble. He glanced at Charles. “We should take a look.”

  Charles didn’t argue. He understood the risks of unknown company in the wilderness. The two veered off the elk’s trail, moving carefully through the trees. The scent of smoke grew stronger, and soon, they saw it thin wisps rising into the sky from beyond a small ridge.

  Sebastian crouched low as they reached the top, peering down at the source. A rundown cabin sat nestled in the trees, its roof sagging with age, its wooden walls weathered and cracked. Outside, three men loitered around a fire pit, their rifles resting nearby as they spoke in low voices and another one leaning against the cabin. A battered table sat beside the men near the fire pit, cluttered with whiskey bottles, a half-skinned rabbit, and a few scattered bullets.

  Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. Something about them felt off. Their ragged clothes, the way they carried themselves he had seen men like this before.

  Charles studied them from their vantage point. “Trappers?” he guessed quietly.

  Sebastian shook his head. No, these weren’t hunters. The way they moved, the way they spoke it was familiar. Then, one of the men shifted slightly, revealing a scrap of fabric tied around his belt. Green.

  Sebastian’s blood ran cold.

  O’Driscolls.

  His grip tightened on his rifle as memories surged through him memories of fire, of blood, of laughter in the dark. He forced himself to take a slow breath, steadying the rage bubbling beneath his skin.

  Charles hadn’t noticed the detail yet. “What do you think?” he whispered.

  Sebastian exhaled, keeping his voice low. “They're not trappers, they're are O’Driscolls.”

  Charles frowned. “You sure?”

  Sebastian gave a slow nod. “I know their kind.”

  Charles studied the men again, realization settling in. He had heard plenty about the O’Driscolls from the gang but had never encountered them himself. Now, he was seeing them up close for the first time.

  Sebastian shifted his stance. “We can take them. Quietly.”

  Charles considered for a moment before nodding. “Alright. We do this smart. No noise unless we have to.”

  Sebastian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Ja.”

  They moved into position, slipping through the trees like ghosts. The hunt was no longer for elk this was a different kind of prey now.

  And Sebastian would make sure the O’Driscolls never saw it coming.

  Sebastian and Charles moved through the trees, careful not to snap a twig or rustle a bush. Every step was deliberate, every breath measured. The O’Driscolls were laughing, drinking, unaware of the two hunters stalking them.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Sebastian’s heart pounded, but not from fear. No this was focus, instinct. He had tracked men before, just as he had tracked deer, elk, and wolves. The trick was patience. Waiting for the perfect moment.

  One of the O’Driscolls a young, scrawny man wandered from the group, muttering to himself as he walked toward the treeline to relieve himself.

  Sebastian caught Charles’ eye and motioned forward. Charles nodded, understanding immediately.

  Like a shadow, Sebastian moved behind the man, his knife slipping from its sheath. The O’Driscoll barely had time to gasp before Sebastian clamped a hand over his mouth and drove the blade deep into his throat. A wet gurgle, a twitch, and then nothing.

  He lowered the body slowly, easing it to the ground without a sound. Then, he wiped his blade clean on the dead man’s coat.

  Charles had already picked his target a broad-shouldered man leaning against the side of the cabin, his rifle resting against the wall beside him. Charles crept up behind him, wrapped a strong arm around the man’s neck, and twisted sharply. A sickening crack echoed faintly in the night air.

  Two down.

  Sebastian retrieved his revolver and crouched beside the last two men at the fire. One was sharpening a knife, the other gnawing on a piece of dried meat.

  “Damn quiet out here tonight,” one of them muttered.

  Sebastian pressed the barrel of his gun against the back of his head. “Not for long.”

  The man stiffened, but before he could react, Sebastian slammed the grip of his revolver against his skull. He slumped forward, unconscious.

  The last O’Driscoll lunged for his rifle, but Charles was faster, tackling him to the ground and pinning him down with a knee to the chest. The man struggled, cursing and spitting, until Charles drove a fist into his jaw, knocking the fight out of him.

  Silence returned to the forest, broken only by the crackling fire and the heavy breathing of the two Van der Linde men.

  Sebastian stared down at the unconscious O’Driscolls, jaw clenched tight. The memories of his family’s murder surged in his mind, but he forced them back.

  Charles looked at him. “Two alive, what now ?"

  Sebastian exhaled sharply.“Let’s see what they know.”

  They had their prey. Now, it was time for answers.

  Sebastian stood over the two unconscious O’Driscolls, his grip tightening on his revolver. His heart was still pounding from the fight, but his expression remained cold, unreadable. The only sound in the clearing was the distant crackling of the fire and the occasional groan from one of the men on the ground.

  Charles stepped away from the bodies, dusting off his hands. “I’ll check the cabin,” he said.

  Sebastian gave a curt nod, keeping his eyes fixed on their prisoners. “ Make it quick.”

  Charles moved swiftly, pushing the creaky wooden door open with the barrel of his rifle. The cabin was barely standing its roof sagged, and gaps in the walls let in slivers of moonlight. Dust and dirt covered every surface, and the air reeked of sweat, alcohol, and stale tobacco.

  A rough wooden table stood in the center of the room, cluttered with playing cards, bullet casings, and an open bottle of whiskey. A few tin plates, some still smeared with half-eaten stew, lay discarded on the floor. In the corner, a rifle rested against a stack of crates, along with a few boxes of ammunition.

  Charles grabbed the rifle, checked the chamber, then slung it over his shoulder. Extra firepower never hurt.

  His eyes moved to a set of saddlebags tossed on a crude cot. He rummaged through them quickly spare bullets, a hunting knife, and a few crumpled dollar bills. Nothing unusual.

  Then, tucked beneath a folded coat, he found something more interesting a stack of yellowed papers, edges curled with age. Letters.

  Charles frowned as he flipped through them, scanning the handwriting. Some were simple messages between outlaws, talking about stolen goods and drunken brawls. But one letter stood out it bore the unmistakable scrawl of Colm O’Driscoll’s name at the bottom.

  He narrowed his eyes, reading carefully. It wasn’t long, but it was enough. A few lines about a meeting. A location. Something about ‘the boys up north’ needing supplies.

  Charles exhaled sharply. This could be important.

  Tucking the letters into his coat, he grabbed a few more supplies a handful of cartridges, a half-decent canteen, and a small pouch of coins. No sense in leaving anything useful behind.

  Stepping outside, he found Sebastian exactly where he left him, crouched beside the unconscious men, keeping watch.

  Sebastian glanced up. “Find anything?”

  Charles held up the letters. “Something worth reading.”

  Sebastian’s gaze lingered on them for a moment before he stood. “Good. We wake them up now.”

  Charles nodded. They had their captives. They had their information.

  Now, they would get their answers.

  The fire had burned low, casting flickering shadows across the forest floor. The cold had settled in, but Sebastian barely felt it. His focus was on the two O’Driscolls, now tied up and slumped against a tree.

  Charles had made sure they were bound tight hands behind their backs, ankles secured. One of them, the younger one with a scruffy beard, stirred first, groaning as he blinked awake. He tried to move, then grunted when he realized he was tied.

  Sebastian knelt in front of him, silent. Watching.

  The second man older, with a scar running down his jaw stirred soon after. His head lolled for a moment before he snapped awake, eyes darting around in confusion before settling on Sebastian and Charles.

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  Sebastian let the silence stretch. He wanted them awake, alert enough to understand where they were and who they were dealing with.

  Finally, he spoke. “Who are you working for?” His voice was low, calm but there was a sharp edge beneath it.

  The younger O’Driscoll swallowed hard but said nothing. The older one sneered. “Go to hell.”

  Sebastian’s jaw twitched. He reached out, grabbing the man’s shirt and yanking him forward so their faces were inches apart. “Try again.”

  The O’Driscoll spat at his feet. “Ain’t tellin’ you a damn thing, you bastard.”

  For a moment, everything was still. Then Sebastian’s expression darkened.

  Without hesitation, he grabbed the man by the throat and drove his knife into his gut twisting it deep. The O’Driscoll gasped, his body jerking violently as blood spilled over Sebastian’s hand. He wheezed, choking on his own breath, eyes wide with shock.

  Sebastian didn’t blink. He yanked the knife out, then plunged it again higher this time, under the ribs. The man let out a strangled gurgle before going limp, his body slumping against the tree.

  The forest was silent again.

  Sebastian wiped the blade clean on the dead man’s shirt, then turned his attention to the remaining prisoner. The young O’Driscoll was breathing fast, eyes darting between his dead companion and the bloodied knife in Sebastian’s hand.

  Sebastian tilted his head slightly. “You ready to talk?”

  The O’Driscoll swallowed hard. “Yeah… yeah, I’m ready.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Good. Let’s start with the truth.”

  The surviving O’Driscoll was shaking now, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His wide eyes flickered between Sebastian, the bloodied knife, and the corpse slumped beside him.

  Sebastian crouched in front of him, resting the knife on his knee. He spoke evenly, his German accent curling around each word like a slow drag of a blade. “Now. Let’s try this again.”

  The O’Driscoll swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Wh-what do you wanna know?”

  Sebastian leaned in slightly. “How many of you are nearby? Are you expecting more?”

  The man hesitated just for a second. Then Sebastian’s grip tightened on the knife, and the O’Driscoll blurted out, “It’s just us! I swear! Ain’t nobody else coming!”

  Charles, standing off to the side, watching, folded his arms. “Then why are you out here? Ain’t much in these woods for men like you.”

  The O’Driscoll licked his lips, glancing nervously between them. “We...we was just laying low. Had some business up north, got orders to hold out here ‘til things cooled off.”

  Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Business? What kind of business?”

  The man hesitated again. A muscle in Sebastian’s jaw twitched. He grabbed the O’Driscoll by the collar and yanked him forward. “I am losing patience.”

  “I-I don’t know much!” the O’Driscoll stammered. “Just that Colm’s been plannin’ somethin’ big! We was told to wait here, keep an ear out for any lawmen pokin’ around. That’s all I know, I swear on my life!”

  Sebastian studied him, searching for any sign of a lie. The O’Driscoll looked desperate, terrified but was it enough?

  Charles sighed. “Sounds like Colm’s got more men waiting somewhere. Question is, where?”

  Sebastian’s fingers tightened around the knife. “Where’s the meeting?”

  The O’Driscoll shook his head quickly. “I...I don’t know exactly! We wasn’t told! Just that it was somewhere up north I don’t know for sure, I swear!”

  Sebastian exchanged a glance with Charles. The information was vague, but it was something.

  Charles exhaled sharply. “What do we do with him?”

  Sebastian turned back to the O’Driscoll. The man flinched under his gaze, his breathing still rapid, his body tense.

  “Please,” the O’Driscoll whispered. “I told you what I know.”

  Sebastian stared at him for a long moment, then slowly stood, flipping the knife in his grip.

  What happened next was up to him.