Chapter 11: The Ferocious Badger

Joan stepped over the threshold of the forest cabin, cautiously advancing a few paces to examine the towering mound of earth. In the center of the heap, he discovered a hole nearly two feet in diameter leading beneath the floorboards, its depths swallowed by darkness.

It seemed his footsteps had disturbed something, for from within the depths of the tunnel came a sudden rustling sound.

Sensing that something was climbing up through the passage, Joan quickly retreated to the doorway, held his breath, and readied himself to dodge an attack. As he watched, the loose earth tumbled down, and a round head emerged from the hole. The animal’s fur was a deep brownish-gray, with striking white stripes adorning its cheeks and crown. Its chubby face was almost comical, and its shiny black eyes darted about warily, surveying its surroundings.

“So, it’s just a badger,” Joan sighed in relief.

Badgers were common enough in these woods—short, stout creatures, skilled at digging burrows and feeding on small animals or roots. Though not without a certain fierceness, they rarely posed much danger to people or livestock unless provoked.

When the weather was warm, Joan often saw badgers in the forest, and with Jamie’s help had sometimes even managed to hunt one or two. Their fat could be rendered into oil, their meat was tender and flavorful, but the most valuable part was the sleek, soft pelt. A whole badger skin fetched a handsome price at the leather shop in town, or could be turned into a warm cloak by a skilled tanner.

Badgers shared habits with bears; when the cold season came, they would retreat into their burrows to hibernate, relying on thick layers of fat to sustain basic life functions until spring. But the badger before him seemed unusual—whether driven by hunger or startled out of sleep, it had awakened from hibernation and dug its way from underground, right up through the cabin floor. Judging by the moist earth, Joan guessed it had broken in no more than three or five days prior, perhaps seeking shelter from wind and snow, and had stayed put until the cabin’s owner returned.

He noticed the badger’s lower half remained hidden in the tunnel, only half its head exposed, clearly ready to retreat at the first sign of danger. In such circumstances, catching a badger with an escape route was nearly impossible, and Joan had already hunted enough today; there was no point in bothering with this one. So, he stamped his foot hard and shouted at the animal, intending to scare it off before filling in the hole.

The badger did shudder at his outburst, but to his surprise, it did not bolt as most wild creatures would. Instead, after a moment’s terror, its eyes glinted with rage; a deep, menacing growl rumbled from its throat. Its powerful, shovel-like claws gripped the tunnel’s edge, and with a sudden surge, most of its massive body burst into view, collapsing the surrounding earth.

A chill ran down Joan’s spine. It wasn’t until the animal had clawed its way out that he realized it was fully six feet long and four feet tall—a beast far larger than any ordinary badger, more akin to a black bear in size. Beneath its plush, glossy coat lay a thick layer of fat, and under that, bulging, muscular flesh that rippled with each furious roar, a raw display of primal strength.

Conti, hearing the beast’s roar from outside, peered into the cabin and, her face paling, grabbed Joan and dragged him toward the door.

“We’re in trouble,” Conti said, her expression grave. “That’s a ferocious badger!”

At the mention of “ferocious badger,” Joan’s face changed as well. He remembered his grandfather’s tales of “ferocious beasts”—creatures that looked much like their kin but were larger, stronger, and far more aggressive. Encountering one in the wild left only two outcomes: kill the beast, or be torn apart by it.

Conti, more experienced in such encounters, gave Joan a stern warning. “I’ll handle the ferocious badger. You climb a tree—quickly!”

By now, the cabin door had been flung wide and the badger, eyes bloodshot, charged out. Conti had no time for further words; gripping her wooden staff in both hands, she swung with all her might, striking the beast squarely on the head. The blow landed with a heavy crack.

Slender and graceful, with only a thumb-thick staff in her hands, Conti hardly seemed capable of threatening such a monstrous animal. Yet the force behind her strike belied her delicate appearance; the rampaging beast was actually sent sprawling, rolling across the snowy ground before it managed to struggle to its feet.

The badger shook its dazed head, eyes ablaze with malice as it let out a shrill scream. Its massive body trembled violently, swelling as if growing even larger.

“Just as I thought—now it’s berserk. What a foul-tempered monster!” Conti forced herself to remain calm, though the whitened knuckles gripping her staff betrayed her tension.

Ferocious badgers were notoriously combative; when wounded, they flew into uncontrollable rages, losing all sense of fear and pain, willing to fight any foe—no matter how strong—until either it or its opponent bled out.

Conti was confident she could subdue an ordinary ferocious badger, but against one in a frenzy… a head-on confrontation was a fool’s errand. In such a contest, human cunning was the only advantage. She withdrew, staff at the ready, backing into the dense woods to use the tangled branches to her advantage.

But the badger, as if reading her mind, lunged before she could vanish among the trees. Conti reacted instantly—before the beast reached her, she leapt upward, grabbing a branch overhead with her left hand and swinging herself high, narrowly avoiding the badger’s lunge and swinging back like a pendulum. With her right hand, she brought the staff down, and, strengthened by divine magic, struck the badger’s face with bone-crushing force, shattering its nose and spraying blood across the snow.

Howling in agony, the beast, wild with pain, battered its head against the birch where Conti perched, slamming itself again and again until the tree, as thick as a bowl, snapped with a splintering crack and crashed to the ground.

With no other trees nearby, Conti was forced to leap clear before her perch toppled, springing desperately away from the raging badger.

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