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[b][u][center]The Domesticated[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]Chapter 1: Hunting New Stock[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]Sponsored by DuskCypher[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Brecht knelt at the edge of the forest, gloved fingers brushing away the fallen leaves and branches that littered the beach. It was easy to find the tracks beneath that mess; the savages hadn’t learned enough to hide their tracks from one that followed sight rather than scent. Finding their paw prints, so different from the human boot print, left a smile on his face.

[i]Hmmm, looks like a hyena tribe…maybe a few giraffes in the area, too. Not warring for a change, either…[/i]

Either the beasts were getting better at cooperation, or these hunting grounds were starting to get thinned out. Either way, he’d leave a recommendation with the Guild when he got back home that they would need to be left alone for a while, to allow their numbers to replenish. The Breeders would be happy about that. They were fighting tooth and nail to get a better place in the market, and with the wild population decreasing as it was, they’d finally have an opportunity.

Getting to his feet, Brecht tucked his rifle against his shoulder. The scope on the top was currently off, something to keep the hunt a little more sporting. The beasts were clever, but if he wanted to find them with ease, all he had to do was bring the advanced tech to his eye and he’d find them in minutes. He didn’t want it to go that quickly, however. As much as he enjoyed the breaking, he enjoyed the hunt just as much, and he didn’t want to cheat himself.

So, the hunter stepped into the forest, his weapon held tight in one hand and loose in the other, his hat pulled low to keep the sun off his eyes as it poured through the canopy. The tracks led straight ahead, but he didn’t rush on. No need to start sending the crashing sounds of the hunter through the undergrowth and warn his prey that their end was coming. No, no, better to take his time, to let them think that they were well-hidden. Let them get comfortable in their villages, let them think that their crude attempts at stealth would be enough to keep them safe for a little bit longer.

Let them fool themselves and live in their own delusions, and then, then he would make his move.

Brecht walked slowly, keeping his profile low. His clothes, covered in patches of branches, leaves, and more from this particular jungle, broke up his profile further than usual, and he knew from experience that the savages would have a hard time spotting him at a distance. They were used to tracking other creatures, four-legged ones, not people like him.

Not humans.

Of course, being relatively short helped with that. Brecht was barely more than five feet tall, though his job as a hunter kept him fit, fitter than most people back home that had to use various servants and slaves to get the job done. He was strong enough to carry this rifle, after all, which was almost his own height, and he had all the equipment that he needed for capture, too.

However, it soon became apparent that the tracks were meant to lead him into a trap. He paused at the edge of a clearing, looking at the tracks as they went right to the middle of the small, exposed area. That wasn’t the way of the hyenas; they kept to the edge of things, not wanting to attract the attention of the other tribes.

A second look at the center of the clearing revealed a little broken stick in the middle of it, and he chuckled.

[i]Clever beasts. They’re getting better.[/i]

They’d dug out a pit in the middle of the clearing, something meant to trap a hunter like him. They knew that they were hunted, and they were trying to take advantage of an inexperienced hunter to trap him, seize his goods, and save themselves. Some of the tribes were getting better at learning firearms, as well, which meant that they were probably going to be a problem for the rest of civilized society in the future.

But that was the future, and this was now.

Brecht followed the edge of the clearing, keeping to the trees, and more than that, keeping low. If there was a trap there, then there was probably a watch kept for whoever might fall into it. And that meant that, if he could find them, then he could head right back to the coast and head home with his prize.

He was right. Squatting at the far edge of the clearing, eyes fixed on the trap rather than the tracks leading to it, was a young hyena male. Just turned adult, from the piercings in his lips and the little marks in his fur along his face and shoulders, Brecht would reckon. He probably had gone through his manhood ceremony, gotten his dick wet, and then been given that spear at his side to try and keep the tribe safe.

And that was probably why he was the one watching the trap. Someone young, someone expendable to the tribe that they could replace if he fucked up or was caught.

[i]Well, if you want to give me an offering, I will take it,[/i] he thought, bringing his rifle up.

He wondered if this was how his ancestors had felt when they had come to this land hundreds of years ago and began their time in the slave trade. Brecht imagined that, in some ways, they had felt exactly like this. Given a way to hunt someone that was less than them but more than the average beast in the homeland, given the chance to run through the woods and do as they pleased, was a very freeing sort of sensation. To take a gun and find someone that was worth money, bring them back and sell them to the elite had enriched them, given them the standing that was required to associate with the ancient nobility.

Of course, that had faded in recent years. Slavery was a term that nobody wanted to use anymore, not after the attempted rebellion and insurrection of the beasts. That term had been done away with nearly fifty years ago, back in the times when his father had gone out for his hunts, and before he had gotten into the business so fully himself. Brecht shook his head as he brought the rifle to his shoulder.

[i]Calling them ‘Domesticated’ now,[/i] he thought, adjusting the scope so that it didn’t blow his eyeball out when he aimed at something closer. It flickered on, the HUD on the scope allowing him to see the vital organs that he wanted to miss, and the sensitive areas that would be at risk if he shot them from this distance. He adjusted the scope to look for the proper areas for ideal dart pricks, so that he could knock this one out as soon as possible. [i]No real difference, but it makes them happier.[/i]

At least, the ones that went through the training.

Brecht put that thought out of his head. He wasn’t a politician, nor was he anyone that really had any say in how the laws were done. He was a hunter, a trainer, and a trader. That was all that he was, and all that he needed to be.

The hyena still had no idea that he was there. No surprise. He had come from a different direction, and he was surrounded by different flowers that would mask his scent. There were too many things that would distract a savage beast out here.

He aimed at the hyena’s bare ass, and squeezed the trigger.

The silent dart pricked the beast on the rump, and the powerful sedative started flowing immediately. The loincloth-wearing savage barely had the chance to get to his feet before he was taken off them again, falling to the jungle floor.

Brecht waited for a moment or three, just to make sure that there were no other beasts that he hadn’t spotted. Nothing moved in the forest, and when he set the scope to scan-mode for any body-heat signatures, there was nothing to be found.

[i]And done.[/i]

He got to his feet, shouldering the rifle and pulling off his helmet for a moment. Rubbing sweat-damped hair out of his face, he pulled the helmet back on and knelt down by the body of the unconscious male. He pulled the hyena over his shoulder, grunting under his breath. That dart would keep him out for a good three hours, more than long enough to drag him from the jungle and back to the beach. By the time that he got there and shoved the creature into his helicopter, it would be too late for the beast’s tribe to try and rescue him.

Still, he didn’t delay. He moved quickly, just in case something was off about the hunt. The last thing that he needed was to be caught in the middle of the jungle while encumbered.

#

Some hunters preferred to seal their prey up in cargo crates. Brecht felt that such approaches ignored some of the more interesting possibilities of the trip back to civilization, so he took a different tack.

The hyena was still unconscious as they entered the helicopter, so it was easy to strap the beast down against the back wall of the small vehicle. He pulled the beast’s arms up to the wrist straps on the wall, securing both before ensuring that the chest restraint was also locked in place. A few straps of leather here and there, reinforced by a central bar across the torso that was made of metal, would have kept a rhino in place, let alone a weaker tribal like this one. He smiled to himself as he pushed the legs back, clicking the ankles into place.

[i]Humans must have interbred with this tribe. Not as full-blooded beast, but still close enough to count.[/i]

He could tell from a few different features. This male had a humanoid shaft beneath his loincloth rather than a sheath and tight little pouch, and rather than having paws that pushed him to his tiptoes, he had feet, instead. It was clear that someone had bred with the hyenas further back in the line, disrupting their purity, but that was fine. It would mean that he had a little bit more reasoning power to his mind, and that would give him a better chance of being bought by someone that wanted something other than a truly feral slave.

But it would mean that training would take a bit longer. Human blood in a beast meant that they had a different idea of their status, and they needed to be educated, domesticated properly. Brecht had the time for it, but he wished that he’d waited for a better target. It would be a little bit longer before he could sell this one.

Taking his time, he undid the beast’s loincloth. Some hunters would have tossed that overboard, leaving nothing for the beast, but he knew how these things sold. Some of the people in the civilized parts of the world wanted to enjoy the full experience, and that included as many accessories as possible. He would keep this, but it would be a reward for the beast to have it back in the future.

Folding it up, he stuffed it carefully into the cargo bins closer to the cockpit. There was one last touch, of course, and that was the collar itself.

He pulled it free of the cargo bins at the front of the helicopter. It was a simple little thing, but one that had been gradually improved over the years of slavery and Domestication of the beast people. Once nothing more than a leather collar to show who owned a specific beast, the slave collars – no, the Domesticated collars – were now made of metal, something that sealed tighter and was harder to remove without actually dealing serious damage to the creature in question.

In this case, it was a training collar, one that reflected his name as an Owner-Trainer rather than a pure owner. It allowed him to maintain a larger stable of the beast, something that a standard Owner would be restricted from doing. The average human wasn’t allowed more than four of the beasts, and most kept theirs down to one or two, at most. The expense was considerable, after all.

But this allowed him to keep upwards of twenty, so long as he was in the process of training them. Once they reached a certain point, he needed to take them to auction or sell them to a client directly, but until then, he was allowed to keep quite a bit more than the average person.

The collar itself was also filled with a number of small gadgets. From a universal translator to a series of different injector points, it was made to help facilitate a human’s commands to a new Domesticated beast, and ensure that obedience was maintained. It was not as advanced as the collar that would replace it at the point of sale, but it was good enough to do its job. And more to the point, it was good enough to make sure that any beast that wore it never forgot that it had been collared.

He walked back to the chained hyena, sliding the collar around its throat. The beast groaned in his sleep, and Brecht shook his head.

“Sleep well, creature. When you wake, your old life will be over.”

#

The helicopter set down in the middle of a relatively crowded city. It wasn’t home, but it was the main transit hub near to the Beastlands. Humanity had created quite the settlement on the borders of the savage lands, built entirely out of the profits of what was once the slave trade, now the trade of the Domesticated. The city itself, known as Collared Landing, showed the complete lack of shame that the human race had for the trade.

And why should it? It brought in the money.

Brecht had brought the rented helicopter back to the main hub at the center of the city, landing it on the pad that he had taken off from a day ago. There were two humans and six collared Domesticated waiting, the latter dressed in nothing, the former dressed in sharp suits that made it clear that they wouldn’t be doing any of the dirty work. Brecht waved at them from the cockpit before walking back to the cargo area.

The hyena had woken up, finally, and the beast grunted, pulling at the restraints like the savage that he was, unaware of how strong they were, and how futile the action actually was. Brecht shook his head, pulling at the edge of his jacket for a bit of ventilation, doing his best to ignore the heavy musk that had filled the back of the helicopter from the beast sweating in fear the whole way here.

“Be still,” he said, the collar repeating his words a heartbeat later in the beast’s language. The hyena went still, alright, though not necessarily out of obedience. Instead, it stared at him in shock. Brecht continued.

“Do you have a name?”

“Who are you?” the hyena asked in return.

“Your master. And your name is…”

“You give me yours. You stole me, you may – what is this – these are not my words!” the hyena complained, glaring down at the collar’s speaker.

“They will be yours, when you learn them. Eventually, this will be your language.”

“Never!”

Brecht sighed. He had hoped for something better than this, but then again, perhaps he should have known better. This was a wild animal, after all, and there were only so many ways that one might treat one.

He reached out, grabbing the hyena’s balls, and he squeezed. Not quite hard enough to threaten them to pop, but they were definitely in a fair bit of discomfort. The hyena’s legs tried to close, but the binding metal frame that held him against the wall kept that from happening, too. Brecht kept squeezing until the hyena’s stiff lip started to shake, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as little whimpers escaped his lips.

“You will fall in line. I don’t know who you served before, or what you thought you would become, but that life is over. You are no longer a warrior. You are a Domesticated. Or you will be, soon.”

“What…what is…that? That word…”

“You will learn. Now…what is your name?”

“Nnngh…Ekundayo…”

“Hmm. I will call you Eku, then.”

“Bastard…”

“Probably. Never did know my father. Not that it matters here.”

He released the hyena’s sack, feeling the sweat that still clung to his glove. Thankfully, he had many pairs. Brecht pulled it off as he opened the helicopter door, meeting the humans that had come to take possession of the vehicle again.

“Looks like you had a successful hunt,” one of them said. “Think he’ll bring in much?”

“They’re investments. He won’t sell for at least a year.”

“Man. How do you afford this, then?”

“They sell high when they do,” he said, shaking his head. “Sorry about the stink. These ones smell more than the rest.”

“I can tell. Fucking beast…”

“The deposit should cover the cleaning.”

“Yeah, well, take the beast and get going. And watch out. There’s some Snatchers on the loose right now. Might try and take him and sell him cheap.”

He nodded. Snatchers were always the bane of hunters like him. The hunters would go through the trouble of finding the goods, and then they’d be snatched out from under them as soon as they got back to civilization. Snatchers seized captured beasts, put them on the black market, and sold them cheap as a way of getting a profit without putting in the investment into the gear and everything that hunters did. Most people regretted buying from that market, but it kept running by the virtue of costing a tenth of what a reputable Domesticated would sell for.

Of course, that had its own problems, but not ones that Brecht was going to think about then.

He reached down to his belt, pulling out a pair of wrist restraints and some wire. Undoing the waist and wrist restraints on the wall, he pulled the hyena forward.

“What are you doing?” Eku asked.

“I’m making sure that you don’t run off.”

“Hmmph. Where would I run?”

“You’d try. You always try.”

The young warrior bunched up his shoulders almost as if he planned to argue, but Brecht’s sudden pull on his wrists stifled that. He made sure that they were pulled down to the small of the other male’s back, making sure that it would be rather uncomfortable for him to try and run for very long. The restraints themselves, handcuffs that were broader than the average cop model, reached from the wrist to just past the base of the thumb, keeping the beast’s fingers and thumb from being able to work together.

More than that, the tightness of this particular model kept them from touching or sliding free, either. It had been built to contract until it reached the right size, and then harden. Only a thumb print of the hunter who had made the capture could open it afterward. He attached one end of the wire to the restraints, the other to the band around his own wrist. It was a good enough leash, for now.

“Alright, beast. Come on.”

“Why?”

“Because I say so.”

Undoing the ankle restraints, he pulled the naked hyena from the helicopter and onto the pad. The other Domesticated stepped away, shying back. It was part of their conditioning, he knew. They looked down on the wild ones, saw them as a threat to the world order that they were part of. It was part of the process of ensuring that they never helped the untrained ones, making it too terrifying to think of going back to that.

It wasn’t entirely truthful, of course, but that was part of the benefit of working within the system. You made sure that you crafted the world the way that you wanted it to be.

Brecht dragged the hyena across the pad and to the stairs that led down through the building proper. If he wanted to get back to his lodgings before they gave away his room, he’d need to be quick. He doubted that the hotel manager was going to keep his word without some pressure.

Nobody in Collared Landing bothered keeping their word if it meant that they could make a better profit without it.

#

The stink of the hyena was enough to make the taxi driver throw them out and run off without pay when they reached the hotel, the [i]Old Leather Band[/i], and that was fine enough for Brecht. He shook his head as he stepped out, pulling the wire leash a little tighter around his wristband. Eku was looking left and right, not quite in the way of the tourist, either. That was the warrior within looking for a way to run off.

Not on his watch.

He pulled the hyena into the hotel lobby. More naked Domesticated could be seen, either standing at attention with their owners or making artful displays of themselves. One could often tell the sort of establishment that one was in by the way that the building management made use of the Domesticated not assigned to active duty. Those that were rather seedy often displayed them on their backs or on all fours, reducing them to nothing more than sexual use or base displays. Others, the high-class ones, had the Domesticated imitate the poses of the ancient classical statues and arts.

This one was a mix, with the average Domesticated made to imitate art, but here and there showing a female on her back, balancing like a table with her arms and legs, her parts split and shown to the world. He could see that those ones had their collars working overtime, pumping them with the hormones and chemicals needed to keep them dripping like a waterfall.

No males were in use like that, though, and he made a mental note of that. The hotel must have been under new management, and that management didn’t seem to encourage that sort of attention.

He walked up to the hotel desk, where a human with dark skin and white hair waited. The older man looked at his hyena, snorted, and then looked back at him.

“We don’t keep a kennel here.”

“I reserved a penthouse room,” Brecht said, his voice quiet. “It is under Hunter, Brecht.”

“We don’t take reservations by occupation.”

“It’s my name. We took it a long time ago.”

“Yeah? Let’s see if you’re telling the truth, then.”

The clerk looked down at his computer, tapping at the keys. Brecht waited, tapping his foot. He felt a slight tug on the leash, and he responded by giving a tug twice as strong back. Eku stumbled against his side, the thick-shouldered hyena grumbling under his breath, clicking his jaws in frustration.

Eventually, the clerk found the entry. He looked down, then up, then down again. He mumbled to himself, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t say anything about two people…”

“That’s because beasts aren’t people.”

“Hmmph…”

“The reservation is there, and I am on time.”

“By two minutes.”

“Two minutes early is still early.”

“Yes, but…but…” The clerk sighed. “Dammit.”

“I win this round, Barton.”

“Yes, you do. Goddammit.”

“Sorry about that. Now, the room key?”

“Yes, yes, here.”

The clerk handed over the keycard, which Brecht held against his wrist-band for a moment to let it settle into the emitter under the wire. It beeped at him when it was done, and he handed the card back.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t leave a mess this time.”

“No promises.”

Of course, Eku chose that moment to throw a fit. Perhaps it was the fact that he was faced with so many of his people – not his species, of course, but his people – or perhaps he had been pushed too far. Or perhaps he had been in shock this whole time, and he had finally come out of it. Regardless, the hyena chose that moment to try and run.

Brecht felt the tension coming down the wire, and he let it happen. He knew what the result was going to be, and he knew that the slave needed to find out what would happen if he tried to fight.

The hyena ran as hard as he could, and the human let the wire leash run out. Eku managed to get six feet out, seven, eight, nine, but just as he hit ten, the wire went taut. The sudden tightness around his wrists pulled the hyena right off his feet, sending him falling flat on his side as he spun in mid-air. Brecht had barely been pulled to the side, having braced himself just for that.

Of course, that was only the start. The hyena seized up as at least two of the injectors in the collar stabbed in, jabbing into his neck and into his spinal cord. They both started dispensing a mix of sedatives and other chemicals, something to slow him down, to make him dizzy, to leave him docile. It was a serum that had been perfected years ago by those that had developed the collars, just to have an easy way of controlling the underlings that had to wear them.

Barton shook his head.

“Idiot,” the clerk muttered.

“Untrained. But that will change.”

“You better get him out of the lobby, fast. The management doesn’t like the males as much as the females.”

“Brute-mongers?”

“Yeah. The kind that think we should exterminate all the males.”

“Then we’d have to breed them all ourselves.”

“Not like management would complain about that…”

He nodded. Sliding a couple notes across the table in ‘thanks’ for the warning, the short hunter knelt down and picked up the shivering, limp hyena. Throwing him over his shoulder, he made his way down the hall and into the elevator. From there, it was a short trip to the penthouse.

Considering the [i]Old Leather Band[/i] was a bit of an old hotel, the amenities of the penthouse was mostly down to its sheer size, more than triple the size of the various rooms that filled the rest of the hotel. It had a bathroom that was more fully equipped than the others, had a bedroom that was separate to the living room, and most important, it had an old-style slave room.

The older style rooms were better than the modern ones, as far as Brecht was concerned, because they were fitted with chains and other means of securing the beasts for the night. The collar was good, but it wasn’t entirely foolproof, and he didn’t have quite enough tools to bind someone long-term without risking physical damage to them. He wanted to keep the hyena in decent shape for training when they flew out the next day, and that meant not drugging them the entire night through. There were good ways and bad ways to start bringing them into their new life, and that was a bad way.

He kicked the door shut behind him, making his way to the slave room. As expected, there were chains of all sorts hanging from the ceiling, imitating a medieval dungeon. He shook his head at the motif, but it would work. For the most part, it would work.

He had Eku’s wrists chained overhead again, freed of the restraints, when the hyena opened his eyes again. The young warrior looked around, then glanced at him again.

“What happened? What did you do to me?”

“Your stupidity triggered the collar’s response,” he said, shaking his head as he knelt down, grabbing the hyena’s left ankle and pulling a shackle around it. “When you try and run, your blood spikes with different chemicals.”

“Let me go!”

“No. Your blood spikes with different chemicals, and the collar senses it. Combined with the sudden jolt, it realized that you were trying to escape, and it put you to sleep.”

“This is magic.”

“Hardly.”

With a little finagling, he managed to get the hyena’s other ankle restrained, though Eku had started struggling at that point and nearly managed to kick him in the face. Nearly. The hyena definitely had the brute strength of his people, it must be admitted. There were rare species out there that didn’t have the strength to overwhelm a human, but they were few and far between. It was mostly technology and learning that set the humans on a level that they could dominate the beasts, and as a hunter, Brecht knew that all too well. There was no way that one could ever be completely off their guard around them.

He pulled at the chains, dragging the naked hyena into the air so that he hung in suspension. He pulled the chains left, right, shifting the legs open so that there was no hiding what lay between them. Eku gritted his teeth, trying to kick again, but whoever had crafted the chains had done their job well, and they had been maintained quite nicely in this hot climate, oiled and de-rusted regularly.

Brecht ran his hand along his captive’s legs, feeling at the muscles, checking the tone and the state of the fur. Not bad. A little bit sweat-matted, some dirt that would need to be washed off to tell the proper sheen of the fur beneath it, but not bad. Visually appealing, proper spot patterns that would get the attention of the purists. Not too threatening down below; the sac was heavy, but the shaft didn’t look like it would grow too big.

“I’m guessing that you were not the largest of your village,” he said, flicking the dangling, foreskin-tipped cock between the hyena’s legs.

“Leave that alone!”

“You’ll find that telling me to do things doesn’t end well for you.”

He flicked the hyena’s shaft again, continuing his examination. It was clear that the hyena’s natural scent was going to be the sort that offended most buyers, but that was something that could be fixed with a bit of chemical treatment. Maybe a few changes in diet, as well, though he would be loath to do something that would remove the muscle tone that the young male had. Though obviously trained as a warrior, the hyena had the body type that would appeal to most different tastes, from those that liked runners, swimmers, body-builders, or more. He had a good base shape that could be tweaked with ease.

The feet were going to be a downside to some, a plus to others. Some people preferred the feral shape that showed that there was minimal human blood in the beast in question, while some liked the more familiar shape, either for perversions or for other reasons. Eku’s feet remained padded, at least, which would increase his sale price. There were some out there, foxes and bears in particular, that had lost their shapes and their pads, and they seldom sold well.

The fur coat would need a trim as well as a wash, he decided, and definitely a great deal of grooming. That would tell him what sort of patterns he was really working with, though he had high hopes.

The entire time that he prodded and poked the hyena, Eku complained, demanding to be let loose. He ignored the demands, mostly focusing on just how much he would need to do with appearances for the moment. Not much beyond the points that he had already seen, thankfully.

The face piercings, though…

He decided he would leave them be, for now. If initial bids were low after seeing the piercings, he’d decide whether to remove them then.

“Let me down, human!” Eku demanded, trying and failing to swing his legs around. “I am a warrior! Let me free!”

He sighed.

“I told you, telling me to do anything won’t end well for you. I was considering allowing you to stand or lay down here, but with all this, I think I’ll have to let you just hang here for the night.”

“What?! I am a warrior, I do not deserve –”

“You deserve what I give you, and nothing more.”

He shook his head. It was going to be a bit of a night, but he supposed that he would need to show the hyena what it meant to be away from his homeland, now. Whatever sort of primitive ideals that he had started with, it was time for him to learn the way that the real world worked.

Tapping his wrist-band, he started one of the training regimens on the collar. Two different injectors began their work, tapping into the main artery that ran right up the hyena’s neck and into a side vein, as well. Even as Eku grimaced at it, a sudden gasp ripped through him, his eyes going wide and his cheeks burning, his cock starting to rise.

“What…what is…”

“The collar will feed you aphrodisiacs and antidotes throughout the night. You will rise and fall as your body bends to the collar. You will not reach climax, and you will not have peace. It is one of many things that the collar can do to you, and a reminder that I can give you pleasure as well as pain.

“Sleep well, Eku. We have a long day ahead tomorrow.”

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: A human hunter catches a hyena anthro, bringing him back for training and eventual sale on the Domesticated market. Enjoy the beginning of a brand new world of slightly more honest – and kinda evil – slavery.

Tags: M/M, speciesism, human, hyena, various species, real slavery, slavery, nudity, statues, collar, bondage, series, humiliation, chemicals, aphrodisiacs, musk, sweat, modern, science, hunter, chains, erection, examination, edging,