My feet barely make a sound as I dart through the trees in the direction the wounded stag had fled, the massive muskrat dangling from my belt by its feet bouncing off of my thigh as I move. I was not willing to risk the prize being stolen in my absence, so I took the risk of bringing it with me.  I didn’t waste time gutting it yet so the rodents' blood shouldn’t be so fragrant that a predator might be drawn to it while masking most of my human scent. 

The stag left an obvious trail for me to follow, having crashed through the trees in his panic-stricken state. There is blood smeared against bark and branches as he fled, making it easy to track. It seems as though he was heading towards the creek, probably because it was the last thing on his mind before it was sent spiraling. I keep my ears and eyes peeled as I follow the blood to the water source, hoping that I will come across it soon. 

The odd sensation from this morning has returned in my gut and it is setting me on edge, despite having yet to come across any signs of a supernatural creature being nearby. If there is anything that Kaisen taught me during my training as a Huntress, however, it’s to honor my instincts. Right now, those instincts are saying to watch my back, so that’s exactly what I plan to do. Though I’m equipped with the bow and arrow and my hunting knife, I would still feel more confident possibly facing a Supernatural being with my sword in hand. 

As if to add on to my caution, the birds have ceased their singing as I enter the slight clearing where the watering hole is located. I remain hidden within the shadows and brush for a moment before risking the openness, scanning the bed of the stream and the forest beyond. There are no living creatures nearby, despite the growing heat the sun has brought upon the day. My stag lays at the creek bed, half in the flowing stream as though he had tried to leap across but grew too weak to jump the entire way. If the wound hadn’t killed him, then the water surely did.

Seeing no reason to remain hidden any longer, I creep from my hiding place with the dagger from my boot gripped in my hand and head towards my deer. His head bobs with the flow of the stream and blood from his wound mixes with the water, carrying it downstream. Unless I want to fight off a big cat or a bear for my kill, then I need to make quick work of this. 

I grab hold of the stag's back legs and throw my weight backward, pulling him out of the water. If he were fully grown it may have posed more of a challenge, but his lifeless body follows easily as I drag him through the mud, higher onto the bank. I tug my arrow from his side and wipe the blood onto my pants before returning it to the quiver and reaching around to unknot the rope at the muskrat’s feet, setting the body beside the stag’s. I make quick work of gutting them both, unbothered by the hot intestines and organs against my hands that slicken them with blood. 

Now that my kills are lighter after their disembowelment, I drain them of as much blood as I can on the spot before packing them up to be hauled back to the cottage. Keeping a close eye on the bodies, I walk to the stream in order to wash away some of the gore beneath my nails. The birds have yet to resume their song and the hair on the back of my neck is still raised, signifying that whatever unseen threat is roaming about the forest is still present. I shake the water from my hands and go to pack up my prizes, unable to help the bit of pride I feel gazing at the two bodies. It has only been a few hours since I took my place in the tree and I’ve already managed to catch two different types of meat for the family. It’s a new record for me and I can hardly wait to rub it in Nikko’s face. I resist a shiver that a spider walks down my spine and sheaths my knife, placing it between my teeth as I tie the feet of the rodent to my hip once again. A branch breaks in the distance across the creek, but I don’t stop to sense whatever it is. Something tells me that I would rather not find out yet. I will return with Nikko once the meat has been properly stored to track down the cause of the trepidation hanging in the air. 

Thanks to my years of training and hunting, I have little trouble hauling the two carcasses back to the cabin, all the while keeping my senses sharp in case the predatory creature is still following me. It seems that it must have stopped to feast on the organs of my kills, because I came back unscathed. The goats are out of their pen to graze on whatever vegetation they can scavenge while Griffen sits outside, guarding them. Griffen in young, only around fourteen, but he takes great pride in caring for the animals and has even given each of them a name. Seeing me break through the treeline with my successful hunt, he springs from his place on the porch and bounds through the yard to come and help me. 

The weight of the stag is significantly lightened as he takes up the back end of the carcass. “That was fast,” He remarks, sounding impressed as he surveys the spectacular catches. “Nikko will be pissed when he gets back.” 

I can’t help the smile that tugs on my lips as we jointly hoist the stag into our bleeding tree by his feet and I take my blade from my boot to open a gash across the throat to allow more efficient blood flow. “I can only hope. I assume you’ve noticed the steady decline of your goat herd?” I mention, glancing away from the steady stream of crimson dripping from the stag’s neck. 

Griffen sighs as he follows my gaze. Though he does his best to remain unchangeable, it’s easy enough for me to detect the concern pinched at the bridge of his nose, causing his freckles to dance with the movement. “Yeah. Something is feasting, that’s for sure.” 

I wipe my blade clean against my thigh before returning it to its place against my ankle, looking back into the shade of the forest around us. The feeling of dread has subsided thankfully, which means that I wasn’t traced back here yet. “There’s a creature out there,” I say, straightening my back and tossing a braid over my shoulder. “It was stalking me while I hunted.” 

Griffen raises his ginger brow, apparently disquieted by the information. “Did you see it?” He asks, joining me in leaning against the railing of the front porch. We both watch one of the goats who was grazing the fallen needles and leaves gets uncomfortably close to the waterfall of blood, unbothered as it walks right beneath. Griffen groans and moves to shoo the goat away, glaring at the smears of blood on the white patch of her back. 

I shake my head and withdraw the two remaining pieces of jerky from my pocket, handing one off to him as he rejoins me. “No. I’ll take Nikko with me later to see if we can find it. If we lose any more, we’ll be in a bind,” I say, nodding in the direction of the bloodied goat. 

Griffen presses his lips together as he gazes over her dwindling herd, eyes bouncing as he recounts their heads. “I know. I can help, too,” Even his tone gives away his doubt, knowing what my reaction to his determination will be. 

I chew the last bit of my dried meat and wipe my hands on my pants. “You know better. On your fifteenth birthday, we’ll take you Hunting. Until then, you have to -”

Griffen cuts my chiding short with a huff and a roll of his eyes. “Focus on my training. I know.” 

I reach to snatch the half-eaten meat from his hand and shove it into my mouth before he can protest. “It’s good that you do. Kaisen should be home tonight, so you can bring your reservations up with him.” It’s true that we’ve all been training since Kaisen brought us into his home, though he’s made a ritual out of accomplishing the first kill. One cannot really be considered a Hunter until then, which I know eats Griffen up inside. I’ve trained with him and witnessed him hold his own even against Kaisen himself, but being naturally skilled does not give him a free pass. 

“I’m sorry about your goats,” I say, though I don’t truly feel the reflection of my emotions. Griffen seems doubtful of my honesty, as well, though he accepts it nonetheless. Passing up a chance to call me out on a lie must mean that he is actually quite upset about his precious herd being preyed upon. “Maybe we should convince Kaisen to let us get a livestock guardian to prevent this from happening again.” 

Griffen shoots me a grateful look, though he isn’t hopeful that the request will be fulfilled. It’s true that Kaisen would likely laugh in my face at the suggestion, considering that it is our job as Hunters to watch over our own. When he discovers that we’ve lost so many assets in his absence due to our negligence, we’re sure to be punished for it. Besides, Griffen is still too young to understand the necessity of detaching from emotion in this field of work. If he has managed to get himself so worked up about a few dead goats, then having a dog added to the mixture would make it even harder for him to remain apathetic. Knowing Kaisen, he may bring a puppy home one day just to snap its neck in front of Griffen in order to teach him a lesson about attachment. He did so to me when I brought a kitten from the streets back to the cabin when I was ten. I learned my lesson about sympathy that day.

I jar Griffen with a pat on the back, moving around him to step off of the porch. “Let’s get to work on skinning these,” I say, gesturing to the stag. The blood flow has all but ceased now, which is our signal to continue the process. “Kaisen is sure to be in a good mood if we have a hot meal waiting for him.”