The Pilgrim Seahorse, veins of black, blood of gold – was the prime game hundreds of hunters paid with their lives for chasing. Every five years, as the hot season was melting the frozen lakes, Pilgrim hunters from all around the galaxy would swarm Endor, an Earth-like planet in a densely populated solar system with twenty-six other planets orbiting Barnard's Star, a red dwarf about six light-years from Earth in the constellation of Ophiuchus.
Living miles below the lake surface, the elusive Pilgrim’s majestic bodies could bend in half, and twist into a spiral made up of overlapping plates covering the fragile precious, soft body. The Pilgrim will then start spinning, gathering speed and within a split second it will dive a few miles deeper into the lake squealing echolocation, warning the rest of its kind – and every large predator around - of the hunter’s intention and exact location.
I was cautiously stalking the Pilgrim laying around hundreds of SpaceTime loopholes traps, expanding the loops as wide as I can without being sucked into them. I was getting quite close to it and all I needed was to light up the underwater flare, blinding the Pilgrim once it dived into the deep.
As I reached to my belt to pick up a flare, the Pilgrim turned and for a split second, we stared at each other.
Hunter and pray – we both froze.
I have never been that close to a Pilgrim; I could feel the tension in its slowly coiling scales.
It was a magnificent creature. I froze in awe.
