EKSPEDISI BERBURU | EPS 12

EKSPEDISI BERBURU

Matahari baru merekah di ufuk timur ketika sepuluh lelaki berkumpul di gerbang dusun. Baran memeriksa persenjataan satu per satu—tombak bermata sihir, parang, busur panah. Di sampingnya, Slamet berdiri dengan tegap, kakinya yang dulu pincang kini pulih berkat ramuan Joko. Wajahnya penuh semangat. "Sudah lama aku tak berburu di hutan sebesar ini," katanya. Jarwo, yang berdiri di belakang, menimpali, "Kau yakin kuat, Slamet? Perjalanan jauh." Slamet tertawa. "Kakiku sembuh. Aku ingin balas budi pada desa ini." Baran menganggut puas. "Bagus. Kita berangkat."

Rombongan memasuki Hutan Larangan—nama yang diberikan warga karena sejak dulu hutan ini angker. Pepohonan tinggi menjulang, kanopi rapat menutupi sinar matahari. Suasananya lembab, dingin, dan penuh suara-suara aneh. Burung berseru, kera melompat dari dahan ke dahan, dan sesekali suara dahan patah di kejauhan. Slamet berjalan di depan, matanya awas meneliti jejak. "Di sini," bisiknya, menunjuk tanah. "Jejak rusa. Masih baru." Baran memberi kode pada yang lain untuk menyebar. Mereka bergerak pelan, seperti bayangan di antara pepohonan.

Dua jam kemudian, buruan pertama berhasil mereka dapat. Seekor rusa jantan dewasa roboh terkena panah Jarwo. Slamet dengan cekatan menguliti dan membersihkan, memastikan tak ada yang terbuang. "Di desaku, kami tak pernah menyia-nyiakan bagian mana pun," katanya sambil bekerja. "Tanduk buat gagang pisau, kulit buat alas tidur, tulang buat jarum." Para pemburu asli yang melihat terkesima. "Kau benar-benar ahli," puji salah satu dari mereka. Slamet tersenyum, "Aku belajar dari ayahku. Dia pemburu terbaik di desa."

Menjelang sore, hitungan buruan sudah lima ekor rusa dan tiga celeng. Rekor tertinggi yang pernah dicapai rombongan berburu Dusun Karang. Tapi Slamet belum puas. "Aku ingin mencari lebih ke dalam," katanya. Baran mengerutkan kening. "Hampir malam. Kita harus berkemah." Slamet mengangguk. "Iya, kita berkemah di sini. Tapi besok pagi, aku ingin lihat lebih jauh. Ada firasatku." Baran menatapnya lama, lalu mengangguk. "Baik. Tapi aku ikut."

Malam turun di Hutan Larangan. Api unggun menyala di tengah perkemahan, memantulkan bayangan-bayangan menari di batang pohon. Daging rusa dipanggang, aromanya menggiurkan. Para pemburu duduk melingkar, bercerita tentang pengalaman masing-masing. Jarwo bercerita tentang pernikahannya yang baru, tentang Wati dan bayi mungilnya. Matanya berbinar-binar. Slamet diam-diam tersenyum. Lalu tiba-tiba dia berkata, "Desaku dulu juga seperti ini. Hangat. Penuh cerita." Semua diam, menunggu. Slamet melanjutkan, "Tapi dihancurkan. Bukan oleh manusia biasa. Oleh binatang-binatang aneh."

Baran mencondongkan tubuh. "Binatang aneh?" Slamet mengangguk, wajahnya gelap terkenang. "Malam itu, desa kami diserbu ribuan tikus—seperti yang kalian alami. Tapi setelah tikus, datang serigala. Bukan serigala biasa, Baran. Mata mereka merah, mereka tak takut api, tak takut tombak. Mereka seperti... seperti dikendalikan." Jarwo tersedak napas. "Dikendalikan?" Slamet mengangguk. "Aku melihatnya sendiri. Di belakang kawanan itu, ada seorang lelaki bertopeng. Dia memegang tongkat, dan serigala-serigala itu bergerak mengikuti arah tongkatnya."

Suasana hening. Hanya api unggun yang berderak. Baran bertukar pandang dengan Jarwo. "Serigala Malam," gumam Baran. "Itu mereka." Slamet menatapnya. "Kau tahu mereka?" Baran menghela napas. "Kusno pernah cerita. Mereka perampok bayaran. Tapi kalau mereka punya kemampuan mengendalikan binatang..." Dia tak menyelesaikan kalimatnya. Bahaya yang mereka hadapi jauh lebih besar dari perkiraan.

Keesokan paginya, saat fajar baru merekah, Baran dan Slamet berjalan ke arah yang lebih dalam. Dua jam mereka menembus hutan, melewati sungai kecil, mendaki bukit rendah. Lalu Slamet berhenti. Tangannya memberi isyarat. Baran mendekat, dan di balik semak, dia melihatnya—bekas perkemahan. Puluhan bekas api unggun, sisa-sisa tulang binatang, dan di beberapa pohon, torehan tanda: bulan sabit dengan bintang di atasnya. "Serigala Malam," bisik Baran. "Jumlahnya sekitar tiga puluh." Slamet menghitung bekas-bekas itu, mengangguk. "Tiga puluh, atau lebih. Mereka sudah di sini, Baran. Dan mereka mengawasi."

Baran mengamati sekeliling, mencari jejak lain. Di tanah, dia melihat bekas panah dengan bulu hitam—tanda khas Serigala Malam. Juga ada sisa-sisa bahan racun yang dikenalnya dari sumber air tercemar. "Mereka yang meracuni sumur kita," gumamnya. "Dan mereka tahu kita punya sesuatu." Slamet menepuk bahunya. "Kita harus cepat. Mereka bisa datang kapan saja."

Mereka kembali ke perkemahan dengan informasi berharga. Baran memerintahkan rombongan bersiap pulang. "Kita bawa semua buruan. Jangan ada yang tertinggal." Dalam perjalanan pulang, suasana berbeda. Kemenangan berburu terasa hambar di tengah ancaman yang membayang. Tapi di balik ketegangan, ada juga kebanggaan. Rombongan campuran ini—asli dan pengungsi—telah bekerja sama dengan sempurna. Mereka membawa pulang lima belas ekor rusa dan celeng, rekor yang tak pernah terbayangkan.

Sore harinya, mereka tiba di Dusun Karang. Warga menyambut dengan sorak-sorai. Daging melimpah! Pesta dadakan digelar. Tapi Baran tak ikut merayakan. Dia langsung menuju rumah Pak Teguh. Di dalam ruangan sederhana itu, Baran duduk berhadapan dengan kepala desa. Wajahnya serius. "Pak Teguh, kami menemukan kamp Serigala Malam. Jaraknya sehari perjalanan. Jumlah mereka sekitar tiga puluh orang, mungkin lebih." Pak Teguh memucat. "Mereka tahu?" Baran mengangguk. "Mereka tahu kita punya sesuatu. Dan mereka akan datang."

Pak Teguh diam lama. Lalu dia berdiri, berjalan ke jendela, memandang warganya yang berpesta. "Mereka bahagia sekarang," katanya lirih. "Mereka makan daging, mereka tertawa. Dan kita harus memberi tahu bahwa malam akan gelap?" Baran ikut berdiri. "Kita harus bersiap, Pak. Bukan menakut-nakuti." Pak Teguh menoleh. "Kau benar. Besok pagi, kumpulkan semua. Kita akan umumkan."

Malam itu, di tengah pesta, Baran mencari Aryan. Dia menemukan anaknya sedang duduk dengan Buyung di pojok, makan daging panggang. "Aryan," panggilnya lembut. Aryan menoleh. "Ya, Pa?" Baran duduk di sampingnya. "Pa cuma mau bilang... apa pun yang terjadi, Pa dan Ma akan selalu lindungi kamu." Aryan menatap ayahnya, lalu tersenyum. "Aku tahu, Pa. Dan aku juga akan lindungi Pa dan Ma." Baran terharu, memeluk anaknya erat. Di samping mereka, Buyung ikut tersenyum. Tapi di balik senyum itu, ada kesadaran bahwa kedamaian tak akan bertahan lama. Dan di kejauhan, di dalam hutan, api unggun Serigala Malam menyala, menunggu perintah.

THE HUNTING EXPEDITION (English Version)

The sun was just breaking on the eastern horizon when ten men gathered at the hamlet gate. Baran checked the weapons one by one—magic-tipped spears, machetes, bows and arrows. Beside him, Slamet stood upright, his once-limp leg now healed thanks to Joko's remedies. His face was full of spirit. "It's been a long time since I've hunted in a forest this big," he said. Jarwo, standing behind, interjected, "Are you sure you're strong enough, Slamet? It's a long journey." Slamet laughed. "My leg is healed. I want to repay this village." Baran nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Let's go."

The group entered the Forbidden Forest—a name given by villagers because the forest had always been haunted. Tall trees towered, dense canopy blocking the sunlight. The atmosphere was humid, cold, and filled with strange sounds. Birds called, monkeys leaped from branch to branch, and occasionally branches snapped in the distance. Slamet walked in front, his eyes sharp, examining tracks. "Here," he whispered, pointing at the ground. "Deer tracks. Still fresh." Baran signaled the others to spread out. They moved slowly, like shadows among the trees.

Two hours later, they got their first prey. A mature stag fell, struck by Jarwo's arrow. Slamet skillfully skinned and cleaned it, ensuring nothing went to waste. "In my village, we never wasted any part," he said while working. "Antlers for knife handles, hide for sleeping mats, bones for needles." The native hunters who watched were amazed. "You're truly skilled," one of them praised. Slamet smiled, "I learned from my father. He was the best hunter in the village."

By late afternoon, the count was five deer and three wild boars—the highest record ever achieved by a Dusun Karang hunting party. But Slamet wasn't satisfied. "I want to go deeper," he said. Baran frowned. "It's almost night. We need to camp." Slamet nodded. "Yes, we'll camp here. But tomorrow morning, I want to see further. I have a feeling." Baran looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. But I'm coming too."

Night fell in the Forbidden Forest. A campfire blazed in the middle of the campsite, casting dancing shadows on tree trunks. Deer meat was roasted, its aroma tantalizing. The hunters sat in a circle, sharing stories of their experiences. Jarwo told them about his recent wedding, about Wati and their tiny baby. His eyes sparkled. Slamet smiled quietly. Then suddenly he spoke, "My village used to be like this too. Warm. Full of stories." Everyone fell silent, waiting. Slamet continued, "But it was destroyed. Not by ordinary humans. By strange animals."

Baran leaned forward. "Strange animals?" Slamet nodded, his face dark with memory. "That night, our village was attacked by thousands of rats—like what you experienced. But after the rats, wolves came. Not ordinary wolves, Baran. Their eyes were red, they weren't afraid of fire, weren't afraid of spears. They were like... like they were being controlled." Jarwo gasped. "Controlled?" Slamet nodded. "I saw it myself. Behind the pack, there was a masked man. He held a staff, and the wolves moved according to where the staff pointed."

Silence fell. Only the campfire crackled. Baran exchanged glances with Jarwo. "Night Wolves," Baran murmured. "That's them." Slamet looked at him. "You know them?" Baran sighed. "Kusno told me about them. They're mercenaries. But if they have the ability to control animals..." He didn't finish the sentence. The danger they faced was far greater than anticipated.

The next morning, as dawn just broke, Baran and Slamet walked deeper into the forest. For two hours they pushed through the woods, crossed a small river, climbed a low hill. Then Slamet stopped. His hand signaled. Baran approached, and beyond the bushes, he saw it—remains of a camp. Dozens of old campfires, leftover animal bones, and on some trees, carved symbols: a crescent moon with a star above it. "Night Wolves," Baran whispered. "About thirty of them." Slamet counted the remains, nodding. "Thirty, or more. They've been here, Baran. And they're watching."

Baran scanned the area, looking for other traces. On the ground, he saw arrow remnants with black fletching—the Night Wolves' distinctive mark. Also remnants of poisonous materials he recognized from the contaminated water source. "They poisoned our well," he murmured. "And they know we have something." Slamet patted his shoulder. "We need to hurry. They could come anytime."

They returned to camp with valuable information. Baran ordered the group to prepare for departure. "We're taking all the game. Nothing left behind." On the journey back, the atmosphere was different. The hunting victory felt hollow against the looming threat. But beneath the tension, there was also pride. This mixed group—natives and refugees—had worked together perfectly. They brought back fifteen deer and wild boars, a record beyond imagination.

That afternoon, they arrived at Dusun Karang. Villagers welcomed them with cheers. Meat aplenty! An impromptu celebration was held. But Baran didn't join. He went straight to Pak Teguh's house. In that simple room, Baran sat facing the village head. His face was serious. "Pak Teguh, we found the Night Wolves' camp. It's a day's journey away. Their numbers are around thirty, maybe more." Pak Teguh paled. "They know?" Baran nodded. "They know we have something. And they're coming."

Pak Teguh was silent for a long time. Then he stood, walked to the window, looking at his celebrating villagers. "They're happy now," he said softly. "They're eating meat, they're laughing. And we have to tell them that night is coming?" Baran also stood. "We need to prepare, sir. Not scare them." Pak Teguh turned. "You're right. Tomorrow morning, gather everyone. We'll make an announcement."

That night, amidst the celebration, Baran looked for Aryan. He found his son sitting in a corner with Buyung, eating roasted meat. "Aryan," he called gently. Aryan turned. "Yes, Dad?" Baran sat beside him. "Dad just wants to say... whatever happens, Dad and Mom will always protect you." Aryan looked at his father, then smiled. "I know, Dad. And I'll protect you and Mom too." Baran was touched, hugging his son tightly. Beside them, Buyung also smiled. But behind that smile was awareness that peace wouldn't last long. And in the distance, deep in the forest, the Night Wolves' campfires burned, waiting for orders.

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