When the earth was newly formed and the land fresh and teeming with life, when monsters large and voracious ruled the land, and man was still a young species, there lay a small village in the midst of a wide valley. The valley was lush and green, flowering foliage fluttering in the flowering wind that whipped from the surrounding wooded peaks.
Within the woods a monster prowled, stalking the night, watching and waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey. The village men kept from the shadows of the wood for fear of the dark terror that roamed within the wood. Each night as darkness fell, the men would light the great torches that ringed their small village, a weak effort to fend off their vicious enemy. Many nights the flame protected; some nights, when the gusted too strong or rain beat the flames to death, villagers would quake in their homes, fearing the carnage morning would reveal.
Generations lived in fear of the woods, but the fertile ground of the valley kept the villagers rooted. Crops grew, babies were born, rain and sunshine fell, the elderly passed, marriages were made, the monster raided.
As time passed, the monster grew daring. More and more villagers disappeared. The creature darted closer to the protective ring of fire. Crops were destroyed. The village men tried to fight the dark, but all failed.
His father lost, a boy, Nimrod by name, came forward. Why wait for the monster to come to the village, he asked the village elders. He was scorned. How could a young boy question the ways of his ancestors? It was not done. No one could defeat the monster, they said. So, alone, he set out to avenge his father, protect his mother, and save his valley village.
Armed with only a spear, a dagger, and the scant clothing on his back, Nimrod set out to make prey of the great predator. By the light of day he entered the close wood. Silence surrounded him, heavy and deep. Around him he felt the cool of the trees, the emptiness of the shadows. Above, light filtered briefly, cut off by the swaying of the trees' branches. Ahead, only darkness. And so, Nimrod climbed.
Higher and higher into the trees he climbed. With spear tied to his back and dagger in his belt he lightly he leapt from branch to branch, traveling deeper into the wood, yet keeping always in the sun's rays. The sun crawled across the skies as Nimrod crawled through the canopy, always keeping his eyes and ears open for signs of the mighty beast.
Nimrod flew through tangles of emerald, high above the murky and mysterious forest floor. Finally, he spotted his target. A shadow darker than any before lay in the thick of the wood. Blacker than coal, blacker than night, blacker than the deepest cave, the creature slumbered, its ebony head resting atop its sharpened talons.
Keeping to his canopy perch, Nimrod unstrapped his spear and tested the light around him. With his dagger he sliced and trimmed. With his twine he tied back branches, creating a tunnel of empty air between the canopy and the sleeping beast. When all was ready, Nimrod retreated back to the safety of the broad treetops and shifted the final branch. Sunlight flooded the shaft, beaming down on the midnight monster. With a roar of hatred, the creature awoke, blinded by the intruding brilliance. Thrashing and wild, the creature was deaf to his human predator. Too late he noticed the long spear soaring toward him. The darkness was defeated.
Nimrod removed his weapon from the monster's still frame. With no way to transport the creature's massive form, he took as proof of his victory a talon, a tooth, and a tail.
When the village women saw Nimrod exit the forest, a great uproar was made. All the remaining village men ran to greet the small boy who had survived the terror of the woods. Even with his tokens, they could not believe a boy so young had defeated the creature that had taken so many lives. But night came and the beast was absent. A week passed, and still the creature did not come. As time passed with no sign of the monster, Nimrod's story was repeated. Over and over the story was told. Years passed, and the story became history. History became legacy. Legacy became the Legend of Nimrod, the Mighty Hunter.
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