Their daughter had protested at first. Her parents, however, never got mad at her. They knew that it had be their decisions that caused their daughter to struggle with her lessons. She wanted to be playing again, and she saw no reason to learn the way of the court. There were multiple times when their daughter had been caught playing once again with the maid's daughter. It had gotten to the point where the maid and her daughter both had to be sent away. The girl had cried in her rooms for days. The lady had often wanted to go and comfort the girl, but her lord's words stopped her. There would be little comfort for the girl when she left. She had to learn to be strong. The lady remembered well her own life and the times she had been ridiculed merely out of spite and petty jealousy. She had played those games herself, once. Yes, her daughter would have to be strong indeed. They could no longer spoil her as they had. And, fortunately, the lady did not have to wait long for their daughter. After she emerged from her rooms, she pursued her studies almost doggedly.

The huntress slathered the girl's wound with a thick cream. It was cold to the touch, and the stench clogged the room, but it would keep the wound from festering. Touch told the huntress that the girl's skirts were quickly getting shorter. Soon all that would be left would be a thin silky material that the huntress had never encountered before. It seemed highly impractical to the huntress, but she couldn't deny that a part of her enjoyed the softness of the material as she brushed against it to tear yet another strip from the girl's dress. Her wound was being rather slow to heal, and it frustrated the huntress to no end. She couldn't keep drugging the girl with her sleeping concoction, but she still hadn't come up with a way to deal with the girl. The last time the girl had awoken she had reopened the wound while trying to escape. It was an easy task to knock her out again, and the huntress would not deny that a dark part of her enjoyed venting her frustration. She also couldn't deny that a very tiny part of her felt guilty at that dark, bitter joy. Guilt was easy to smother, however, and she knew that if she hadn't done as she had, the girl would've died by nightfall. With this thought, she tied the makeshift bandage tightly around the girl's wound. The huntress' sleeping potions were only so strong, and the only reason they had worked thus far was because the girl's body was trying to repair itself. Once the girl's body grew stronger, the huntress could no longer force her to sleep as she had. She was already too aware that the girl was growing thinner. The huntress sighed. She would go to town tonight to steal some food and skins. There really wasn't another option anymore. If she let the girl go, she could go to the villages and ruin the reputation the huntress had so aptly built, or she would attract any number of predators to the area. However if the huntress let her die, the body would scare away prey for weeks, if not longer. No, she was stuck caring for the wretched human. That made up her mind. She would give herself two more days of drugging the girl. She would offer food to the girl, and hope that was enough to make her stay. If the vapid human still insisted on running away, then predators be damned. They'd surely be less annoying. With a nod of her head, the girl grabbed a worn cloak from beside the door.

By now it was late evening, and she knew it would be dark by the time she reached the closest village. It did not matter to her, however. She had long ago been forced to memorize the way, and the blades at her sides assured her that she could handle a predator if necessary. Still, she was weary as she closed the door behind her. This is what those humans did to her. They made her all too aware of the empty rucksack bouncing lightly across her back. Sounds that she normally tuned out with ease flooded her senses. She shivered as she felt wind blow across her skin mockingly. Her body felt leaden, though she knew she moved rather stealthily through the woods. They made her afraid, and she hated them the more for it. She knew that if they truly saw her, they would see the marks she bared. If they truly saw her, they would lose their fear, and instead see a misshapen coward. She pulled her hood down lower over her head. They would not see her tonight, however. They would only see her persona, the beast of Waverly forest. None who dared enter her forest left. With a wicked smile, she forced her fears back to the recesses of her mind. She used her heightened senses to monitor the forest around her.

An owl cried out in the distance, but there was nothing else to be heard. The wind warned of winter's approach, but it still was warm enough that she felt comfortable under her cloak. Leaves rustled around her, and the owl cried occasionally, but otherwise the night was still. There was a time in her youth that she wondered what her forest home had looked like. She had heard it described, once, that the trees were green, and the bark was brown, but she hardly knew what any of it meant. Instead she interpreted her world through other means. In the hot seasons she would walk barefoot and feel the dirt and roots beneath her feet. She had long ago learned how to use her feet to check the path in front of her. The result was a somewhat peculiar gait, but there was hardly anyone to impress in the woods. She used her ears to listen to the world around her. She listened carefully for birdcalls. They assured her that predators were not around. While her lack of sight did cause problems, it also granted a certain level of freedom. She moved easily no matter the time of day. While humans could not function without their light, it mattered not to her whether the sun was up or down. It was exactly for this reason that she stole so easily from the villages. Some of the richer storeowners had taken to hire guards to defend their wares, but this only made her more excited. Sleep-deprived, frightened guards were better at telling grandiose stories then actually protecting anything. Often she would break into these stores on purpose. She could easily sneak by sleeping guards, or lure them away, and leave the store doors wide open. However she was always careful not to touch anything while in these stores, except a few necessities that were easily overlooked. She never stole everything she needed from one store. Instead she would steal a single fur here, another down the block. Always they would be small, almost unnoticeable. Hers was a vague legend, and that was for the best. Most people truly didn't believe that any beast existed. They believed her to be merely the product of tired minds, and rebellious kids. Stories were vague enough that any "sighting" of her merely made the reporter seem like an attention-grabber. In fact, numerous times it was just that. She merely was not worth the hassle of more interest. However, it was a superstitious lot, and the stories kept the people out of her woods. Just as she wanted. These woods were hers, and she was theirs.

However, it was now on the very outskirt of a village that the huntress now appeared. She crouched right before she entered the clearing, listening carefully to the sounds in the night. This village had yet to hire guards it seemed, and this vaguely annoyed her. It was undeniably less fun to torment someone, when they offer no challenge in return. With a sigh, she stood and walked into the village. It must be late this night, because even town drunks made no sound of exclamation to her sudden appearance. If even they were asleep, she'd have to be quick so no early risers would become aware of her presence. Their voices were much more credible than local drunkards claiming to see a ghost in the night. The huntress quickly paced towards a building she knew would contain much needed supplies. This building was hardly ever locked, and it was for precisely that reason that she saved thieving here for situations that required speed. She would have suspected that the owner here was merely more foolish than the rest, but she had long since stopped believing that for he had caught her once. It seemed that he had noticed odd tidbits of meat missing, and had decided to wait for the thief. She had strolled in, overconfident in her ability then, only to find herself quickly wrestled to the floor. She was trapped, hands pinned against the dirt floor. She knew that her hood had fallen in the scramble, and she felt his gaze on her, though she knew that feeling was merely a product of her mind. She uncontrollably flinched as she heard a low whistle from the form on top of her. "Jus' a girl…" a gruff voice said, and she immediately turned harsh. She spat at him, but if she hit her target, she did not know.

He made absolutely no movement on top of her. But as suddenly as he had come, his weight left her. She quickly scurried to her feet and listened carefully for his breathing. She heard a low sigh and she quickly turned her head to glare at him. "Blind, too?" he whispered. Panic overcame her, then, and without a second thought for her pride; she fled as quickly as she could. She had torn through the woods recklessly that night, not stopping until she had reached the hovel. She had curled up on the floor that night and had cried from the pure flood of terror that had filled her. She had cautiously returned a week later, but he had not been there. In fact, it seemed no one was any more aware of her presence then they ever had been. It was as if that night had never happened in their minds. At least, it had seemed that way until she carefully searched his shop the next night. It seemed he had left a platter of meats behind, all smoked to keep from rotting while they waited. They seemed too patient to her, too expectant, and in a petty fit of rage she had knocked the entire tray to the ground. Seconds after the tray crashed to the ground, the huntress had fled once again. When the huntress had returned out of desperation, the tray no longer laid waiting, but still her skin crawled. It was for this reason that the huntress rarely returned to this store, but here she was, glaring at a door that she couldn't even see. She felt it's rough wood beneath her fingers for a second, briefly trying to quell the terror that filled her memory. She loosed a long breath, and then twisted the smooth handle. The door opened easily beneath her hand. She paused for a second, and then stepped cautiously inside. She quickly began to search. She didn't know what exactly for. Of course she would grab some necessities before she left, but there were times, like tonight, that she would indulge herself out of spite for the man. It was how she had come across her boots. They must've been expensive, and the thought that they were now hers made her smile. However, she stiffened as she heard the door softly close and the locking mechanism click into place. Horror grew in her as she heard a soft chuckle. She had fallen for his trap again.

Dear Friends,

I will keep these author notes sparse, but now that story has progressed, I would like to ask three things:

Would this be a story that you would like to see continued?

If the answer to the first is yes, then anyone be willing to proofread for me?

Because the main character is blind, I've made sure not to include visual details. This is new to me as a writer, and I feel that it may have left my writing a bit stunted. Would it perhaps be better to include visual details but leave the main character blind to it? Or, is it truly fine as is?

I do not ask the first question to beg for compliments. Rather, I'd prefer constructive criticism. I cannot improve unless I am stretched, and I will not be stretched unless I have your help, my lovely readers. Thank you so much for reading this story thus far, and I hope to hear from you very soon!

Sincerely,

Adahanne