The Krathallian forest resonated with tranquility and peace. The leaves of the trees rustled in the gentle breeze, the water of the creeks lapped along the shining rocks, and the sounds of a plenitude of creatures could be heard all singing conjoined in a harmonious chorus. Clouds crawled across the brilliant sapphire sky as Kra slowly climbed towards the zenith basking the landscape in its warm amber radiance.

Then the creatures suddenly grew silent, pausing the tranquil chorus of the Krathallian morning. This silence was interrupted by an abrupt loud bang that echoed across the landscape.

“Work the bolt!” The words of Sal’s firearms mentor echoed in his head. Sal threw the bolt of his rifle open, the action opened with a mechanical clack and the jingle of spent brass being ejected with great force. The arpine quickly pushed the bolt back forward and twisted it closed.

Sal looked at the metal target a couple leaps ahead of him. The round he had just fired left a fresh dent and mark of splattered copper on the target close to the center.

One hit, nine out of ten rounds remaining.

The timer ticked down. Sal looked at his compass before re-attaching it to his satchel. Using the information from his compass he picked a new heading and ran across the forest floor in that newfound direction towards what he hoped was the next target.

Sal has trained to become a ranger for the past couple of years. He had other work of course, and he had mostly been practicing and acquiring his qualifications on his own spare time. All that was left now was the rifle course.

He was almost there. At the last Darksky Ritual he had literally prayed for success passing this test. He wanted nothing more than to achieve his dream of becoming a ranger and to get out of his repetitive third shift inventory job and into open air.

He jogged through the woods avoiding natural obstacles while balancing the weight of his cloth and gear. He jumped over and around rocks, trees, and logs along his way. As he continued on his way his memory drifted back to his conservation and poacher training.

Sal sat in a row of bleachers within a small indoor auditorium as part of an audience made up of various arpines.

“Welcome, everyone, to the orientation of the ranger program and your conservation and poacher training,” said a calmy spoken elder female arpine who addressed the audience from the podium.

She continued. “The first thing anyone who wants to become a ranger needs to know and come to understand is the full duty of what you’re protecting.”

Sal leaned in more to listen. The elder produced a clicker from beneath the podium and cycled through slides projected on a screen behind her.

“I was an active ranger for more than 85 years,” she said as she showed a slide of herself in her prime, adorned in her full gear. “And during those 85 years I learned that what we are protecting is more than just some animals and land. We are tasked with defending the lives and lifeline of every single one of us. You will learn how much everything you do, and everything you are, actually matters.”

The elder flipped slides and gave a lecture detailing the food web of Krathal as well as a brief overview of the biological history of the arpine species and their relationship with the ecosystem around them.

“As you can see, any disturbance to this delicate balance threatens you, our communities, and our world itself,” she explained, “There is a reason those who damage and litter these lands, or poach without reason, were historically punished heavily. And in some cases of extreme or repeated offenders, with death.”

The slideshow flipped to a historical photograph of multiple arpines tearing apart and devouring another arpine, with mixed reactions from the audience. The caption read that it was the execution of a serial poacher and arsonist who caused a devastating fire leading to a local ecosystemic collapse and famine.

“The one on the left there was my grandmother, she was the ranger who caught this unapologetic bastard. She is why I am in the business. But do know that these fuckers who do these things are cowards, when caught they will run and will run fast. I retired because I can’t keep up with them no more at my age.”

The memory ended as Sal realized he was nearly at his destination. He skidded to a stop along a dirt path using his back claws to bring him to a quick halt. He then looked around anticipating something specific to happen. A mechanical sound whirred nearby and Sal looked to see a metal target pop up about 4 leaps away.

The target then slid about a motorized track and quickly moved about the forest floor in a loop. Sal kneeled and steadied his rifle and fired. The bullet missed and landed just behind the target on its motion path.

“Work the bolt!” the memory of Sal’s firearms mentor once again drilled him in his head. Sal efficiently cycled the bolt and chambered the next round.

“Remember, when aiming at a moving target you aim at where it is heading. The gods made arpines perfect hunters and gave us sharp vision that is amazing at sensing and tracking movement. Use that to your advantage, imagine yourself trying to get a leap on a stampeding creature, and now imagine that you are the bullet and the target is your prey.”

Sal squinted and his brain quickly calculated the target’s motion and his bullet’s trajectory with surgical precision. He breathed and brought himself to a zen state. He calmy and gently pulled the trigger before giving it the final squeeze which sent the next round on it’s journey.

There was the ring of steel.

Two hits, one miss, seven out of ten rounds remaining.

Sal took his map out from his satchel bag and unhooked his compass to determine his next heading. After reading both a couple of times he looked in a certain direction and nodded. He then put away his map and reattached his compass and began to jog off in the new direction.

Sal eventually ran into a thicket of dense underbrush in his path. Seeing no way around it he began to push his way through the thickets. The shrubs became denser and quckly became impassible. Sal grunted in frustration.

Sal’s frustration and getting pricked with thorns jogged a section of his memory causing him to remember some of what happened during his survival training.

Kra was lowering in the sky and the beautiful light of the golden hour sparkled through the canopy leaves and danced on the dirt. Sal and a few other arpines sat on logs in a ring around a small fire in the middle. Sal and the others were adorned with gear of varying types and specializations. Standing up was a young male arpine with braided hair and a pair of satchels and a belt that held various types and functions of gear.

“Hello, everyone” he said in a friendly tone, “and welcome to your survival qualification course.”

Sal and the others looked on as he added a log to the flame.

“Now, this and the rest of your qualification courses will be in full gear to simulate the actual environment. Alright, man?”

Sal and the others nodded along.

“Good vibes, man,” he said with an approving gesture. “Now, you’re all here because you decided you wanted to be a ranger, surveyor , naturalist, skirmisher, or anything else where you have to work many days out in the wildlands. I do not think you need any introduction to the basics, since your parents likely raised you to brave the wildlands on your own since you were all cubs, so this will be an advanced exercise!”

Sal indeed remembered back to his childhood when his mother would bring him out into the wildlands and ‘rough it out’ for a few days many times. He also remembered how his father would bring him on group hunts after larger prey once he was old enough. The memory brought a smile to him.

“We are born from the wildlands, man. We live for it,” the survivalist instructor said with enthusiasm, “The connection to every plant and creature is in the blood of every single arpine, not even concrete boxes or electric lights can remove the spark of Juna from us. But for the next twiln under my supervision, you’ll learn that we can not only brave and survive in the wildlands for long periods of time, but thrive. In your careers you will sometimes be out in the wildlands for multiple twilns, and a couple times you might not see another arpine for a few asts.”

Sal eagerly listened along with the other members of the group. Their mentor walked around the group and handed everyone each a similar item. After being handed his, Sal opened his palm to see he was given a survival knife.

“These will be one of the most useful things you can have out here, when you are in a bind your creative thinking will get you out, you all have it in you. And a knife is one of the most creative tools you can have.”

Sal brought himself back to the present. He felt around his belt until he felt a hard shape on his palm. He grasped the object, the handle of his knife, and withdrew it from his sheath. He hated the idea of cutting vegetation with his knife since it dulled the blade, but this was important and he figured he could just sharpen the knife again later.

He hacked and sliced away at the brush in order to clear it out from his path. As he cut away he saw the next metal target through the thicket. He raced against the timer frantically trying to saw away at the twigs but his progress was too slow. He wouldn’t make it!

“Remember,” the voice of his firearms mentor spoke through his mind again, “Bullets penetrate. Always make sure you have a proper stop. You don’t want there to be something on the other side you don’t want to hit.”

Remembering these words Sal came up with an idea. He decided he was going to shoot through the thicket. He held his rifle in an awkward hip position and eyeballed the target, he tried to account for the physics of collisions with the brush the best he could. He cringed as he pulled the trigger.

The gun and jerked and recoiled in Sal’s loose grip. After the bang there was the ring of steel confirming a hit. Sal blew a sigh of relief. He looked to see the bullet had just nicked the top of the target, but regardless it still counted as a hit.

Three hits, one miss, six out of ten rounds remaining.

Sal stepped out of the thicket where he could get room to properly operate the bolt. When he was out of the brush he opened the bolt to send the used casing free before shutting it again to chamber the next round.

He once again checked his navigation again and advanced in a new direction.

Sal ran through the woods as quickly as he could, having lost time dealing with the brush. From what he was informed about regarding the next target is that it would actually involve multiple targets. Taking this in mind he held the rifle tight as he quickly navigated around the trees.

Sal slowed down upon seeing a wide formation of massive boulders in his path. There were small canyons and corridors between the boulders that were large enough for him to comfortably pass through. Sal hesitated, being unsure if he was supposed to go around the formation or if he was supposed to go through it.

Sal, based on audial signatures coming from the formation, determined that the corridors likely did have an easy opening on the other side and so going through would be quicker than going around. As he nervously walked between the rocks seeing the hallway-like corridors slowly caused another memory to surface.

The ground was wet and the rain pattered against Sal’s kilt and cloak. He stood in a clearing along with other arpines in front of a collection of crudely-built constructs. A burly middle aged male walked back and forth in front of the group.

“Alright you pipsqueaks!” the male spoke with a voice that boomed much like the thunder that emanated from the clouds above, “Now listen up, because everything I say I will only say once!”

Sal was sure to listen in.

“I am the senior guard training instructor. And this course is where we normally train guards, but you ranger wannabes also need to run this course since one day you may have to back up me and my crew so I don’t want to see any screwups!”

Sal gulped in nervousness.

“But you all should count yourselves lucky, because you only have to endure a thousandth of the pain that I put the guard recruits through!”

Following the initial introductions they started the training session. It involved various physical warmups, fight techniques, and obstacle courses. Throughout the duration of the session they all got muddy and sore as the instructor barked orders in their ears.

“Remember, it isn’t just your ass on the line! It’s your peers, bystanders, and everyone else who depends on you for their protection! This is true in the wildlands, but when you are acting as support for town guards you better damn well believe…”

One of the other arpines tripped over a root and fell into her peer in front of her, knocking them over. The instructor picked her up by her hood and screamed “If that was real you would have gotten both of you killed, you’re out!” before instructing her to go off to the side.

The next part of the exercise had them running through the maze of the crude structures acting as dummy buildings. Sal followed the team leader kicking in wooden doors and leading them through the rooms and corridors. They practiced the handling of their dummy wooden training weapons under these conditions, “capturing” several dummys simulating the act of detaining assailants.

Three more aspirants got cut along the way. Even Sal at one point nearly lost his footing but managed to keep himself anchored with his claws. By the end of it Sal and those who were left were nearly out of breath, fatigued, and dizzy.

If this was only a fraction of what guard recruits go through he could hardly begin to imagine.

As he and the others who remained stepped back out into the main area they were given their overall scores. One more was eliminated due to low overall score. Sal was told that his score was teetering towards the edge but he still made it. Just barely.

The instructor then stood before two groups of aspirants, one of those who made it and the other of those who didn’t, all wet and full of mud.

“To those who passed this course, congratulations. You have now satisfied your guard backup and community security assistance qualification! To those who didn’t, you can try again in three asts. And for those who come back, come back knowing I may be hard, but I am hard for a reason: shit gets tough out there and I believe that every single pipsqueak, when giving it their all, can become strong, can be determined, can be no longer a pipsequeak!”

Sal was brought back to the present by some water dripping from a puddle on top of one of the boulders and down onto his snout. He continued to navigate the boulders when his sensitive ears picked up the buzzing of a mechanical winch. A target had popped up somewhere.

Springing into action he sprinted in the direction of the sound, he ran through the crevices and used his claws and the shape of his feet to quickly climb rock formations and jump off the walls ahead of him. He then put down his heel claws bringing himself to a rapid stop in front of a fork that led to two separate visible nearby exits to the formation. A metal target was situated only a couple leaps outside one of the exits.

Sal quickly aimed and shot off a round that rang the target.

But where were the other two?

Sal then heard the mechanical winching of two targets being raised behind him outside of the other exit. Sal felt a rush of adrenaline spike as he heard his firearms mentor’s words in his mind again.

“When dealing with multiple close-range targets you need to be able to get your shots off fast. You do not want to mess this up. Develop a technique, one that feels right to you. I like palming the bolt, but you should do it however works best for you.”

Sal quickly spun around and grasped the bolt handle with his thumb and index finger and placed his ring finger on the trigger. He shot one round off at the target closet to him and racked the bolt with determined fury, less than half a second after the first round another round fired off at the far target.

Both bullets rang out on their targets.

Six hits, one miss, three out of ten rounds remaining.

Sal once again found himself jogging through the woods acting via his navigation. He moved some of the pine branches and brush out of his way as he trekked along. He saw a thinning of the trees come into view ahead of him. He ran towards the thinning and prepared his grip on his rifle.

He charged through the thicker brush that bordered the forest edge and came out into a clearing. The clearing was on a hill which overlooked a gentile stream with a grove of conifers on the other side of the stream’s marshy basin.

He looked around eagerly awaiting the next target to pop up. He heard two mechanical sounds from a bank of shrubs in the clearing nearby. A stationary target appeared situated a mere couple of leaps ahead of him and an equally-sized plate of metal rose up in front of it and moved back and forth along a track hidden by the shrubbery.

As he aimed part of his mind focused the surrounding clearing and the bright sunny sky. Both of which brought back the memories of another one of his mentors.

Sal and a few other arpines were gathered under a bright sunny cloudless sky. It was mid-day, and Sal and the others had the hoods of their cloaks over their heads to keep the excess sunlight from their eyes.

They sat on the ground as a young and bubbly female arpine spoke to them. “Hiiiii, guys!” she said with a wide smile, “I am so glad to meet you all today! Surely you all know why you are here.”

She chuckled.

“Haha, of course you do! Sorry I am just love meeting people and talking!”

She then realized she was rambling. “Oh my. Sorry, uh let’s continue.”

She cleared her throat. “So, I have been with the regional ranger body for 6 years now, and by now you probably know a lot about what this whole thing is about. But ultimately, we are here for our regional community, and others too. Many arpines who are not familiar with these lands will need help or assistance, so today we will be focusing on your people skills!”

Sal didn’t exactly find this the most interesting topic. He was fine with people, just that he felt this to be incredibly obvious and redundant.

“I will be picking someone out from the crowd, any volunteers?”

Sal just stayed low, not wanting to be put on the spot. Fortunately, she picked someone else out. Sal breathed a sigh of relief.

The female went over the basic questions of asking the volunteer where they were from, who they were, and where they were heading. Once the basic exchange of info was out of the way she moved on in the conversation.

“Alright, so we ask them if they need any sort of help or assistance! Which we will now act out! Excuse me, sir, do you need any help?”

They went through the simulated motions of this sort of exchange, after which they went over a few other scenarios using various members of the audience. Fortunately, Sal didn’t get picked for any one of them.

After that section was over she continued in a slightly more firm and serious tone.

“Also remember, you are also looking out for the safety of those you meet out here. And you need to make sure they stay out of harm. Be ready to assist or handle someone in any situation. Because anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”

She then gave a side-eyed look with a bit of a frown and talked in an irritated tone. “And sometimes they always find ways to piss you off and make you wonder what the fuck you’re doing.”

She then paused with a smile.

“But if I, and the other rangers, are proof of anything at all: it is that anyone can be ready for everything. And as I always say to those I meet having a bad day, the fact you’re here and carry on is proof enough of the resilience that lies in you and all of us!”

Sal was brought back to the present by the whirring of the obstacle plate on its track. He steadied his aim. He carefully timed the shot in his head to account for the plate moving in front of the target.

He grasped the trigger and gently squeezed it. His eyes squinted with determination as he waited and waited for the right moment.

He pulled the trigger.

The gun simply clicked.

Sal’s eyes suddenly opened wide with shock. He couldn’t have seriously gone through all his rounds already!

He opened the bolt and looked inside. No casing was ejected from the rifle, but a round still rose from the magazine into position to be chambered. Sal sighed in relief and wondered how this happened.

Once again his firearms mentor echoed in his mind. “A little warning about short stroking the bolt: sometimes when you operate it quickly you’ll instinctively push it forward without picking up a round. This can get you in trouble in a bind, so be sure to always be calm and focused, not good to be in a panic.”

Of course! he must have accidentally short-stroked the bolt during the rapid fire session earlier. He cursed himself for his incompetency before slowly pushing the bolt forward, making sure the claw extractor had properly grabbed the next round before chambering it.

Seeing the round was being properly guided into the chamber he shut the bolt and re-acquired his aim. He once again timed himself and squeezed the trigger.

Click.

Fuck.

Sal threw the bolt open and the dud round fell into the grass. Sal opened the pouch on his belt containing clips of ammo and he picked a single round off one of the clips and pushed it down into the magazine. He threw the bolt shut and yet again raised the gun.

Pushing his time, he fired a crudely-aimed shot once the metal plate moved away. Fortunately for him the bullet still found its target and a fresh mark was left in the chipped paint on the steel.

Seven hits, one miss, one dud, two out of ten rounds remaining.

Sal took out his navigation once more and took a good long look at the compass and his map. He didn’t see any more markings indicating the next direction he needed to go in. He looked up and around confused.

Was that it? Was he done?

As he pondered his situation one more memory began to surface.

Both moons hung full in the sky. Their light filtered through the bare trees and bathed the nighttime landscape in a soothing blue hue. Sal and other arpines stood around in pairs. A soft electric lamp illuminated a stage with a male arpine standing up on it. Behind him there was a large detailed printed geographic and geologic map of the area. He spoke up.

“Alright everyone, welcome,” he said “Glad to see you here. By now you likely passed conservation, survival, security, and personal interactions training.”

Everyone nodded.

“Alright, good.”

He then gestured towards the map behind him. “Here you can see a detailed map of our superpack region. Towns and trails are marked, obviously. Also, boxed in green are community hunting grounds, in blue commons grounds, red is protected grounds, and black is necro grounds, meanwhile hatched is private property.”

Sal looked at the map and took it all in. The total area of the local region’s wildlands was absolutely massive. Almost overwhelming.

“As you can see, there is a lot of space for one to get lost or for something to go wrong, especially if one doesn’t know the area. Could happen to anyone, including you.”

Sal shuddered dreading the thought.

“Tonight will be an important part of your overall training. We will be practicing search and rescue. My colleagues are scattered about in these woods each playing a victim. And you are put in pairs and must work with your teammate to find your designated victim.”

Sal looked over to his partner and they nodded to each other.

“Luckily there’s plenty of moonlight tonight. But also remember to use all your senses. As an arpine you have keen sight, smell, and hearing. When you focus in on your predator senses there’s very little in these woods you will not know about!”

After some more overview the arpine on stage gave the order to begin the exercise.

Sal let his partner take the lead. His partner seemed already more familiar with tracking and sensory navigation in the wildlands, which he explained was from his childhood of growing up out here. In return Sal explained he usually stuck to the lands near town most of his life and is stuck with an indoor job and was still getting used to being this far out.

Sal’s partner nodded and said “It’s okay, you’ll get the hang of it, we were all born for this afterall!”

Sal agreed.

Sal’s partner then said “Just breath, relax, and focus. Focus on the world around you. Tune out all the noise. Get in touch with your roots, and you’ll find what you’r…”

He cut off as his ears twitched before grabbing Sal’s arm and running off with him in a particular direction. He and Sal would eventually find their designated victim and, after going through first aid simulations, were one of the first pairs back. The instructor would congratulate them before the memory faded.

Back in the present Sal continued to look around, not knowing where to go.

Sal then shut his eyes and slowed his breathing.

He breathed gently and took in the sounds of nature. He squatted in the grass listening to the breeze, listening to distant birds singing miles away, and listening to the drippling patter of the stream.

Then suddenly he heard the quiet faint whirring of a target being raised. His ears twitched as he was trying to locate the direction of the sound. He then opened his eyes and gazed off in the direction of Kra still rising up in the sky. And then he saw the distant glimmer of sunlight reflect off of something. He looked closer, and there on the other side of the creek near the edge of the grove of conifers, 30 leaps ahead, was the last target.

Sal smirked and aimed the rifle towards the final target. He caught it precisely in the center of his optic’s crosshairs. His grin widened as he pulled on the trigger.

“For these long shots it’s all about calmness and rhythm,” the past words of his firearms mentor spoke to him once more, “And remember, do not get too cocky.”

As Sal gave the final squeeze of the trigger to let the round loose he flinched, causing the bullet to land a couple of feet away from the target.

Sal cursed himself. He opened the bolt gently sending the wasted casing loose. He peered inside the action to see the final round rise from the magazine. He clamped his left foot on a large rock in preparation to kneel and steady his frame.

“After this, you’ll be done with me. To score qualification you will have to run a timed live run and gun course that will simulate conditions you might face out in the field. You will be allowed ten rounds and will have to hit eight targets. Groupings don’t matter as long as the plates are hit. You will be allowed to replace malfunctioning rounds, and you’ll carry more ammo to cover you for the trip back or in case you run into anything real.”

Sal closed the bolt back up again and nervously steadied his aim in his new crouched position.

“Just be sure to take it easy. And remember, it’s okay, we all miss sometimes.”

The final gunshot echoed across the forest and was followed by the ring of steel.

Eight hits, two misses, one dud, zero out of ten rounds remaining.

Sal lowered his rifle in excitement and laughed. After his little celebration was over he opened the action and caught the smoking brass casing midair before placing it in his satchel bag. He removed a clip from his ammo pouch and seated it into the magazine and pushed the rounds down into the magazine. He closed the action and re-engaged the safety.

Now all that was left was backtracking and picking up the brass shells he had left along his trail. But it shouldn’t be an issue to find them, after all the smell of burnt gunpowder that linger on the casings is unmistakable.

He picked up his other casings from the clearing before beginning his trek back. Passing the final qualification he was an official ranger now. He couldn’t wait to tell Geilie and Heyme.