Dedicated to Siobhan
Crouched behind a thick wall of shrubbery, the young warrior remained perfectly still, his muscles coiled like a spring. His sharp eyes scanned the dense underbrush ahead, where his hidden snare lay waiting, his ears strained for the faintest sign of life. The Darke Forest around him seemed alive, its towering, gnarled trees twisting toward the sky, their skeletal branches blotting out much of the light. Shadows danced across the forest floor as a gentle breeze stirred the leaves, masking faint rustles that could be prey—or predator.
He didn't care for this kind of work—trapping animals was dull, predictable. A beast that simply wandered into a trap? Where was the challenge in that? He preferred prey that put up a real fight—something with teeth, claws, and a reason to fear. The monsters that stalked the depths of the Darke Forest fit the bill. They weren't so different from him: surviving in the shadows, unwelcome, and feared.
His lips curled into a faint smirk at the thought. Monsters were easy to figure out, far easier than people. They were predictable in their rage, singular in their instincts. The brutish ones charged without thought, the cunning ones schemed but lacked raw power. And all of them—every last one—underestimated him.
That was their downfall. It always was.
A good hunter didn't overpower their prey; they outsmarted it. They moved unseen, struck where the beast was weakest, and let it destroy itself. He'd learned that lesson long ago, when being careless wasn't just a mistake—it was a death sentence. His agility and speed gave him an edge, but it was his mind that made him lethal. His uncanny ability to anticipate movements, to sense the slightest shift in the air, had kept him alive when others wouldn't have lasted a day.
Last month had been harpies. A farmer had begged him to drive the winged terrors away after they'd slaughtered half his livestock. He'd dealt with them quickly, efficiently, and without hesitation. But the payment? Silver. Typical. He grimaced at the memory, his fingers unconsciously flexing as if they could still feel the burn of the cursed coins. He made a mental note to buy some gloves before handling those coins.
A faint rustle disturbed the stillness of the nearby bushes. The warrior's senses sharpened instantly, his gaze locking onto the source of the sound. A small hare emerged, its ears twitching nervously as it crept toward the snare.
"Come on," he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the soft crunch of leaves. Shifting his weight, he adjusted his stance. The gold-plated ankle brace he wore clicked faintly against the underbrush as he rolled his heel, the sound almost lost in the forest's ambient hush.
The small creature sniffed at the snare, its nose twitching delicately. For a moment, it seemed as though the trap might spring—but the sharp crack of a twig in the distance shattered the stillness. The hare froze, its ears swivelling toward the sound, then darted back into the underbrush with a flash of grey fur.
The teen groaned softly, slumping back into his hiding place. Hunting for game required more patience than he cared to give. But business was slow, and he needed to eat.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to tamp down the simmering frustration rising in his chest. He couldn't afford to lose control. Not here, not now. The town was far too close, and the last thing he needed was to draw unwanted attention to himself. The sun was already beginning its slow descent, casting golden rays through the canopy above. He needed to catch something tradeable before nightfall.
His jaw clenched as his mind drifted to the last village he'd passed through. It had been anything but welcoming. He cursed himself for not paying closer attention when the innkeeper handed him the key to his room. He'd taken it without thinking—hadn't noticed the faint silver sheen until the metal burned his skin. A stupid mistake. He'd yelped, the key clattering to the floor, and the innkeeper's suspicious glare had told him everything he needed to know.
It hadn't taken long for the news to spread. By sundown, whispers of something unnatural reached every corner of the village. By nightfall, it wasn't whispers anymore—it was torches and angry mobs demanding he leave.
Monsters were easy, he thought bitterly. It was people who were the real trouble.
He absently rubbed his thumb over the faint scar on his palm, a reminder of the mistake. The strange balm he'd picked up from that wandering apothecary had worked wonders, but the memory of the burn lingered. He flexed his fingers, testing the spot where the skin had healed smooth, his frustration twisting into something darker.
When suddenly the soft rustle of careful footsteps broke through his thoughts. His sharp gaze flicked toward the sound, snapping the boy back into his crouched stance. Through the dense shrubbery, sunlight painted speckled patterns across the dark forest floor. From the nearby undergrowth, a lean creature emerged.
The sun caught the fiery red sheen of its fur, turning it into a flickering blaze against the shadows. Its pointed ears, dark and sharp, stood rigidly alert, swivelling at the faintest forest sounds.
A fox.
The boy's breath hitched as he watched it move, its sleek body weaving gracefully through the flora. There was something about foxes that always held his attention. They were clever and cunning — traits often scorned but ones he quietly admired. They weren't brutish hunters but agile survivors, thriving in a world that wanted them gone. He respected that.
He rarely killed foxes if he could avoid it. They weren't worth much as meat, and he had no interest in hunting something he respected. But desperation had a way of stripping away preferences. The sun was sinking fast, painting the forest in deep orange hues, and he couldn't afford to return empty-handed.
Still, this fox was different. It was stunning, its fiery coat shimmering in the fading light, a creature that belonged more to the wild magic of the forest than the mundane pettiness of market stalls. It felt wrong to even consider it.
He let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching at his side. "Leave it to fate," he murmured to himself. If it didn't trigger the snare, it would walk away unscathed. If not… well, he needed something to trade.
The boy's heart picked up pace as the fox inched closer to the trap. Its dark nose twitched, sniffing the air cautiously, and it froze for a moment, as if sensing something amiss. Slowly, it crept closer, its body taut and deliberate. It reached the snare and stopped.
He leaned forward, barely daring to breathe.
The fox lowered its head, sniffing the contraption with a look of sharp curiosity. It tilted its head, almost as if puzzled, then circled the trap once, its bushy tail swaying behind it. The boy's pulse quickened, each movement of the creature feeling like an eternity.
Then, with a sharp sniff, the fox stepped back, raising its head as though unimpressed.
It shook itself lightly, sneezed, and fixed its golden eyes on the snare, almost disdainfully.
"Hey…" the boy frowned defensively.
A low growl rumbled from the underbrush, breaking the stillness. The fox stiffened, its ears flattening as its sharp eyes fixed on the source of the noise. Slowly, it crept toward the disturbance, the soft growl deep in its throat answering the unseen threat.
The warrior's body tensed, sinking deeper into his cover. He didn't dare move as his sharp gaze darted between the fox and the rustling bushes beyond. The growl grew louder, heavier, until the foliage began to tremble violently. Something was coming—something big.
The fox stood its ground, growling louder now, as if daring the unseen predator to come closer. Then, with a sudden burst of motion, the bushes exploded outward.
A massive boar charged into the clearing, its hulking form illuminated by the fractured sunlight. Its monstrous tusks glinted like dull blades, sharp enough to tear flesh. It roared at the fox, its snout curled back in fury, before lunging forward in a brutal charge.
The fox leapt back just in time, the boar's tusks slicing the air where it had stood mere moments ago. Without hesitation, the fox turned and bolted, its lithe body weaving through the forest with practiced ease.
The boar gave chase, tearing through the underbrush with reckless power.
The warrior sprang into action. A boar that size would be more than enough to see him through to the end of the month.
He darted after the beasts, his boots skimming over the uneven forest floor as he kept pace. Stinging nettle bushes lashed at his legs, but he ignored the bite of the thorns, his focus fixed on the chase. He stayed far enough back to avoid detection—if the boar noticed him too soon, the game would end before it began.
His leg brace clicked faintly with every step; a sound too risky to let the boar hear. With a practiced motion, the warrior reached for his Adamantine whip, its cold metal hissing softly as he released the lock mid-run.
In a single, fluid movement, he lashed the whip upward, its tip coiling tightly around the highest branch of a nearby tree. He launched himself into the canopy with precision, landing lightly on a thick branch before leaping to the next.
From above, he had a clear view of the chase. The fox sprinted ahead, its movements graceful and deliberate. But something about its behaviour struck him as odd. Whenever it pulled too far ahead of the boar, it seemed to slow—not from exhaustion, but intentionally, as though it wanted the boar to keep pace.
The warrior narrowed his eyes, crouching low on the branch as he studied the fox. Its movements were deliberate, too deliberate.
"This thing has a death wish or something," he muttered under his breath.
He pushed himself forward, leaping from branch to branch, aiming to gain enough distance to position himself ahead of the chase. If he could trap the boar from the front, it'd be over quickly. He weighed his options mid-air. His pocketknife was ready—perhaps he could entangle the beast in his whip and go in for the kill. Or, if he found something heavy enough, he could drop it from above and knock the creature out cold.
Below, the boar began to slow, its furious sprint faltering into an unsteady trot. The fox noticed immediately, its movements shifting as it circled back to face the towering beast. Squaring up to the creature, it snapped and snarled, baring sharp teeth that looked almost too bold for its small frame.
The boar roared in frustration, its tusks slashing the air as it charged again. The fox darted away at the last moment, narrowly dodging the deadly blow. But the beast wasn't done—it pivoted sharply, its glowing red eyes burning with raw rage as it thundered after the fox once more.
The chase veered into a clearing, the ground overgrown with dense, tangled foliage. The forest seemed to hold its breath as the scene unfolded.
What happened next made the warrior nearly lose his footing.
The fox skidded to a halt in the middle of the clearing, its body twisting sharply as it turned to face the charging boar. For a heartbeat, the boy thought the creature had made a fatal mistake. But then its form began to ripple, the fur dissolving into smooth, sun-kissed skin, its lithe frame elongating and reshaping.
In one seamless motion, the fox was gone, replaced by a girl crouched low against the forest floor. Her short red hair gleamed in the sunlight, the same fiery hue as the fox's pelt. Her legs braced in the foliage, one hand steadying herself as the other dug through the thick layer of leaves.
Before the boy could fully grasp what he was seeing, the girl pulled a bow and arrow from the undergrowth, her movements swift and practiced. She rose slightly, her intense gaze locked on the boar still barrelling toward her.
"What the—?!" The boy bit back his shout, forcing himself to stay silent as he steadied his balance on the treetop. His heart pounded in his chest, his grip tightening against the rough bark as he watched the scene unfold below.
The boar thundered forward, its monstrous tusks gleaming, its red eyes blazing with fury. The girl stood her ground, her bow drawn, the arrow poised with unnerving precision.
She didn't hesitate.
With a sharp twang of the bowstring, the arrow flew through the air, slicing cleanly through the chaos. A heartbeat later, it struck true, burying itself between the boar's glowing eyes.
The beast let out a guttural cry, its momentum faltering as its massive body collapsed, skidding to a halt in the dirt.
The boy exhaled; a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He adjusted his stance, leaning slightly forward for a better view.
Impressive aim, he had to admit. Not to mention quick.
The red-haired girl paused to catch her breath, slinging her bow over her shoulder as a victorious grin spread across her face.
"Woo hoo!" she cried, her voice ringing through the clearing. "Told you I'd get it! Hope you doorknobs enjoy doing my chores for a week!"
From the nearby brambles, two boys emerged, both dressed in worn hunting gear. Their grumbling was loud enough to carry across the clearing, their annoyance at their obvious defeat plain on their faces.
"No fair! You cheated!" the younger of the two snapped, his cheeks flushed with frustration.
"Yeah, dad said you weren't allowed to do that anymore!" the older boy added, his tone sharp with accusation.
Both boys had thick brunette hair matted to their foreheads with sweat, their hunting clothes marked with smudges of dirt and leaves from the forest. The girl, in contrast, rolled her eyes at their protests, the confidence in her stance making it clear she didn't take their complaints seriously.
The warrior crouched lower on his perch, his sharp gaze narrowing as he studied the trio. Something about her didn't sit right. Unlike the two boys, with their shared features and exasperated sibling bickering, the girl didn't look anything like them.
Her striking red hair was a colour that belonged to the wild, not the village. Her movements were too fluid, too sharp, and there was an energy about her that he couldn't place—something distinctly not human.
"You two are just sore losers," the girl said with a smirk, her tone dripping with triumph. "Come on, help me with this thing."
The boys grumbled under their breath but did as they were told. Each grabbed one of the monstrous boar's legs, straining under its weight as they began dragging it toward the edge of the forest. The girl stood back, arms crossed, watching them with a smug sense of satisfaction.
She couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen, Archie thought as he observed from his perch.
But how in the world had she done it? Shifting like that—no writhing, no hesitation, no grand display of magic. The transformation had been seamless, controlled. Even the most skilled sorcerers couldn't alter their forms so cleanly, so effortlessly.
Unless…
His pulse quickened. Unless she's like me, he thought, the idea clawing at the back of his mind.
"No," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Now you're losing it, Archie."
Still, his curiosity lingered. There was something about her, something he couldn't shake. His eyes followed her as she walked a few steps behind her brothers, her confident posture and sharp gaze unnervingly familiar.
The moment was short-lived.
A loud crack jolted him back to reality. The branch beneath him shifted, threatening to give way entirely. Archie sucked in a sharp breath, swinging his weight behind the tree trunk to steady himself.
He froze.
Her head snapped toward him, hazel eyes narrowing as her sharp gaze cut through the canopy.
Archie shrank back, pressing himself tightly against the trunk, his heart pounding in his ears. He held his breath, willing himself to blend into the shadows. Her piercing stare swept the trees, her body tensing as though ready to spring into action.
For a moment, he thought she might fire another arrow.
"Atlanta, hurry up already!" one of the boys called out in the distance, his voice cutting through the quiet of the forest.
The redhead rolled her eyes, her lips curving into an exasperated smile. "I'm coming!" she shouted back, her tone laced with mock annoyance.
Before turning to leave, she paused, her hazel eyes lingering on the tree where Archie hid. For a moment, it felt as though she saw right through the bark, her sharp gaze piercing into the shadows.
Archie held his breath, pressing his body even tighter against the ancient tree. When she finally turned away, he exhaled, the tension in his chest loosening.
She's not someone you sneak past easily, he thought, shaking his head.
Still, the way she had transformed burned in his mind. The seamless shift, the lack of pain or effort. He couldn't stop the questions swirling in his head. Who is she? What is she?
His stomach growled, pulling him back to reality. He groaned softly; the sound full of resignation.
"Great. Now I have to find something else to hunt in this damn forest," he muttered, already scanning the undergrowth for signs of movement.