Royal falcon hunting will be attacked by a black dog

The royal falcon hunt attack turns a formal gathering of Zolian and Aquafaese guests into a sudden struggle for survival. Black, wolf-like beasts erupt from the shrubs and charge the falconers, then penetrate the pavilion, where they bite Sulumina and send the crowd into chaos. Their unexplained, coordinated withdrawal leaves the wounded behind and becomes the starting point for urgent questions about the disease associated with their bites.

The Hunt Becomes an Attack

The alarm develops in stages. The hounds’ baying grows louder, and the falconers turn toward the place where they expect the prey to emerge. Then the shrubs behind them rustle and a succession of black shapes races across the field. For an instant, Makokan takes them for hounds returning from the hunt. The king and his guests also watch without immediately understanding the danger; only when the beasts charge the falconers does suspicion give way to alarm.

The attackers are described as black, wolf-like creatures, their fangs bared and saliva streaming from their jaws. One falconer raises an arm to shield his throat and is knocked down, while his falcon shrieks and takes flight. Another beast rushes at Utalu, a veteran soldier, who releases his falcon and draws his hunting knife to face it. The attack has broken into the hunt before the gathering can organize a defense.

The Pavilion in Chaos

As the beasts reach the boys, Mazai pushes them behind him, but the pack surrounds the group and they disappear from view. Calls for the missing children collide: the king cries out for his nephew, while Yotalu calls for his son, and Sulumina screams for Olimu. The king and his guests try to leave the pavilion, but guards hold them back. Aquafaese and Zolian soldiers rush toward the falconers and boys, then hesitate as more beasts burst from the undergrowth and race toward the pavilion.

Yotalu orders the others to help Olimu while he and his men hold the pavilion; the king likewise calls for help for Mazai. Makokan draws his dagger and places himself in front of Hohsalle. The beasts overturn tables and chairs as they force their way inside. Crockery breaks, people shout and scream, and women fleeing through the narrow tent become entangled with men trying to protect them, leaving the guards little room to use their swords.

Sulumina is bitten in the hand when one beast leaps at her. Makokan lunges to strike it, but a chair blocks his reach. Hohsalle pulls Sulumina away as Makokan shoves the chair aside and brings his dagger down toward the animal’s muzzle. It evades the blade; Makokan feels his weapon graze its face, and the creature recoils. When another beast attacks from behind, Hohsalle warns him. Makokan switches his knife to his other hand and slashes backward, forcing the animal to retreat without landing a blow.

A Withdrawal Without Explanation

The attack ends as abruptly as it began. The beasts suddenly go still, their ears pricked as if they are listening; with their feverish eyes still fixed on the people, they draw back reluctantly, as though an invisible string is pulling them away, and run from the pavilion. Their retreat does not resolve the danger so much as leave it suspended: the immediate assault is over, but its apparent coordination and unexplained signal remain disturbing.

The pavilion is left in disarray, strewn with broken crockery and spilled food. Women crouch trembling and crying, while men who have been bitten clutch their wounds and stare vacantly, as if bereft of their souls. Hohsalle takes a flask of wine from the floor, checks that it still contains some, and washes Sulumina’s hand wound. The attack has thus produced both visible injuries and an urgent medical problem: several people have been bitten, and the nature and course of the sickness that may follow are not yet known.

From Bites to an Unresolved Epidemic

The attack’s medical significance becomes clearer as the victims are examined. Hohsalle later reports that the bitten falconer whose wound was near his chin developed the most severe symptoms most rapidly. Sulumina showed the greatest resistance, followed by Mazai and Olimu. The contrast makes the bites more than a record of injuries: it raises the question of why exposure leads to sharply different outcomes, a question Hohsalle distinguishes from politically charged explanations such as the Curse of Aquafa.

The first investigation suggests that the disease is extraordinarily virulent but does not pass readily from person to person. In the salt mine, symptoms appeared quickly and almost everyone died, including slave keepers as well as weakened slaves. Yet no one who worked there after the incident developed the illness. Hohsalle therefore reasons that fleas, ticks, and wind are unlikely explanations for that outbreak, and that infection may instead follow the bite of a beast. That inference lends the falcon hunt attack particular weight: the animals have attacked people directly, but the attack alone does not explain how the disease moves or why some victims resist it.

Earlier attacks complicate the apparent chain of transmission. Reports gathered from across the former Kingdom of Aquafa identify cases resembling mittsual from the Yukata Plains in the south to the Oki forests in the north, with the oldest known account dating back eight years. The accounts describe isolated attacks by wolves or ossam, usually leaving only one or two people ill, with no reported onward spread. Hohsalle observes that this pattern is difficult to reconcile with infected wolves living in packs: if bites transmitted the sickness, further cases should have appeared more often around contaminated packs. Nor does the scattered distribution resemble a disease spreading steadily through ticks and mosquitoes over several summers.

The investigation consequently shifts from simply hunting wolves or ossam to identifying which animals might carry the disease and how it is maintained. Shepherds bitten after attacks on sheep have not been reported sick, Hohsalle notes, so indiscriminate extermination would not follow from the evidence. Later discussion considers whether mobile host animals might avoid remaining in one place long enough to infect ticks, but leaves a further puzzle: attacks span a territory too broad to be explained by wolves from the north mixing with those in the south. The hunt attack inaugurates no settled explanation; it becomes one vivid, consequential instance in a pattern whose causes remain under investigation.

A Withdrawal Without Explanation

The attack ends as abruptly as it began. The beasts suddenly go still, their ears pricked as if listening; with feverish eyes still fixed on the people, they draw back reluctantly, as though an invisible string is pulling them away, and run from the pavilion. Their retreat does not resolve the danger so much as suspend it: the immediate assault is over, but its unexplained signal leaves the violence unnervingly unfinished.

The pavilion is strewn with broken crockery and spilled food. Women crouch trembling and crying, while men who have been bitten clutch their wounds and stare vacantly, as if bereft of their souls. Hohsalle takes a flask of wine from the floor, checks that some remains, and washes Sulumina’s hand wound. The attack has left both visible injuries and a medical uncertainty: several people have been bitten, and the sickness that may follow is not yet understood.

From Bites to an Unresolved Epidemic

The medical significance of the attack becomes clearer as the victims are examined. Hohsalle later reports that the bitten falconer whose wound was near his chin developed the most severe symptoms most rapidly. Sulumina showed the greatest resistance, followed by Mazai and Olimu. This contrast turns the bites into more than a record of injury: it raises the question of why exposure produces sharply different outcomes, a question Hohsalle separates from politically charged explanations such as the Curse of Aquafa.

The first investigation suggests that the disease is extraordinarily virulent but does not readily pass from person to person. At the salt mine, symptoms appeared quickly and almost everyone died, including slave keepers as well as weakened slaves. Yet no one who worked there after the incident developed the illness. Hohsalle consequently considers fleas, ticks, and airborne spread unlikely explanations for that outbreak; infection through an animal bite seems more plausible. That inference gives the falcon hunt attack particular weight: the beasts have attacked people directly, but the assault alone cannot explain how the disease spreads or why some victims resist it.

Reports gathered from across the former Kingdom of Aquafa complicate the apparent chain of transmission. They identify cases resembling mittsual from the Yukata Plains in the south to the Oki forests in the north, with the oldest account reaching back eight years. The accounts describe separate attacks by wolves or ossam, usually followed by illness in only one or two people and no reported onward spread. Hohsalle notes that this pattern sits uneasily with the idea of infected wolves living in packs: if bites transmitted the sickness, further cases should have appeared more frequently around contaminated packs. Nor does the scattered record resemble a disease steadily spreading through ticks and mosquitoes over several summers.

The investigation therefore shifts from indiscriminately hunting wolves or ossam to identifying which animals might carry the disease and how it persists. Shepherds bitten after attacks on sheep have not been reported sick, Hohsalle points out, so the evidence does not justify treating every wild dog or wolf as dangerous. Later discussion considers whether mobile host animals might leave an area before infecting ticks, but leaves another puzzle unresolved: attacks span a territory too broad to be explained by wolves from the north mingling with those in the south. The hunt attack yields no settled explanation. It remains a vivid, consequential instance in a pattern whose causes are still under investigation.