Merek's Ascendance by Andrew Lashway

of the cage, balancing on the shaky surface. He lay low, trying to keep from drawing any attention to himself as he crept closer to the poacher.
    “We climbed hiiiigh to the darkest looow, where we deciiiide where to spend our goooold…”
    Merek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the poacher’s song, unable to decipher any meaning behind the lyrics. But his singing certainly helped cover Merek, as did whatever the poacher was drinking. He seemed blissfully unaware that there was another person on his cart.
    At least, that was until the poacher threw the bottle behind him and it smacked Merek right in the nose. He didn’t cry out even as his eyes watered, but the sound was unmistakable. The poacher whirled around before Merek could react, and suddenly Merek was staring at a very angry black bearded man.
    “Um. Hi. I’m trying to work my way across the country be selling… grits.”
    The poacher probably thought Merek was crazy. He wasn’t the only one.
    He pulled the horse to a stop, standing in his seat to get at Merek. Merek backed away, barely eluding the poacher’s hands.
    “What do you think you’re doing, child?”
    “I just said I’m trying to sell you…”
    “Don’t lie to me!” the poacher roared, vaulting forward. Merek flipped off of the back end, landing on the ground just as the poacher slipped off the cage and hit the dirt. He had long brown hair, and the left half of his face was covered in red war paint. He was taller than Merek, but he was a bit skinnier too. Unlike Merek, the poacher was actually clothed with armor probably made from hides. It was enough to cover his torso and legs, at least.
    Merek curled his fists, trying to prepare himself for a fight. He wasn’t sure if he even stood a chance, but he had little choice now.
    “What do you want, child?”
    Merek shrugged, hoping it wouldn’t sound as stupid out loud as it did in his head. “I want you to let those bears go.”
    The poacher stared at him, as if wondering if he was actually serious.
    “And why would I do that?” he asked, his head tilting to the side.
    “ Because they did nothing to you,” Merek replied, spreading his arms wide. “They just wander the forest, not harming anyone.”
    “Yeah, and there pelts go for a hundred gold apiece. The young ones… probably seventy. I can live off that for a few weeks.”
    “Aren’t there… normal jobs you could do? Cutting wood, tilling farmland, that sort of thing?”
    “ Please,” the poacher snarled. Something had entered his voice, something angry. “That sort of ‘work’ doesn’t lead a man anywhere. All it does is leave your back broken while someone else makes all of the money.”
    “Sounds like you know from experience.”
    The poacher chuckled to himself, looking away towards the forest with his jaw clenched.
    “Why the bears?”
    “Because they make me the most gold. We’re done talking about this now. Go away, or I’ll make you go away.”
    Merek looked down, considering his options. He could just walk away. It wasn’t like he owed the bears anything. Leaving was still very much an option.
    Except that’s what his father would do.
    “Sorry,” Merek said, “but those bears are… kind of my friends. You need to let them go. Please.”
    “Fool,” the poacher said, strutting forward. He cracked his knuckles and popped his neck. Merek bent his knees, dropping the stone so he could grip his staff with both hands.
    I am in so far over my head.
    It was too late to turn back now, for the poacher sprinted forward. Thinking quickly, Merek jammed the staff forward and it smashed into the poacher’s gut. He backed away, sucking air through pursed lips. Merek whirled the staff, holding it behind him as if he had any idea what he was doing.
    “A stick? You plan on beating me with a stick, do you?”
    “Oh no,” Merek replied, “Not unless you’re foolish enough to make me.”
    Yes, talk big. As if you know how to back it up.
    “I’m no mood for