I wake to the sound of birds chirping outside of the bedroom window. Cold sweat plasters my hair against my forehead as my nightmare abruptly ends and I open my eyes to the familiar room. Realizing where I am, I allow myself a moment to calm my racing heart before sitting up in my bed. The air is cold against my skin, making me wish that I could wrap myself back up into my threadbare blanket and sleep for a while longer. Every year as soon as the nights grow cold, I’m reminded of the unfortunate events that unfolded that day. Ten years later, that dream still haunts me as badly as the day that it happened, and yet, I am no closer to an answer than I was back then.

I peel myself away from the warmth of my thin mattress, pushing my socked feet into my boots. The room is dimly lit by the struggling embers in the small hearth, the brick crumbling slowly from years of wear. The sun hasn’t yet broken the horizon, leaving the sky a deep blue as the night begins to yield to the morning. I shuffle over to the coals and crouch in front of them, reaching for a few small pieces of wood and tossing them into the mouth of the hearth, watching as the fire slowly licks at the logs before consuming them completely, revitalized by the fuel. I warm myself by the heat of the renewed flames for a moment, wishing that I could retain the warmth for the entirety of the day. I have to hunt for something to eat tonight so the others don’t starve while I’m gone, since I have a job tomorrow morning. If I have time, I’ll chop some more wood for the pile, too before I leave. 

I sigh at the thought of how much I have to do before then and force myself upright, muscles aching from yesterday's practice. Nikko never goes easy on me, but the bruises on my legs and torso still throb at the memory. When Kaisen makes his way back home tonight, as his schedule planned, he will probably give Nikko a whopping as a consolation for my aching bones. As long as everything went well and he hasn’t been eaten by the Werewolf he was tracking, then Kaisen should make it for supper. It’s been a few years since he brought me to live with him, having found me shortly after running away from Cherin. He isn’t the friendliest hermit in the woods, but he was kind enough to take me in and give me a purpose to continue living. He has been more of a father to me than my own, a debt that I can never repay. 

I comb my long locks into a braid and pull on a hat that I poorly knit last year, along with my warmest coat. The cabin is quiet this morning as the others still lay sleeping in their bed, one that the two boys share on the other side of the kitchen. I call them boys, though they are even older than I am. Adopted sons of Kaisen, as well. He assembled our little family on a whim and taught us his trade so we might make a living in this world, albeit a dangerous thing to teach children no older than ten. Each of us has our reasons for wanting to hunt down the evil that lingers in the forests and cities across the nation. We have all had something taken from us. Kaisen was able to teach us how to use our pain as motivation, instead of losing ourselves to the darkness. 

I slip my knife into my boot and take my bow and arrow from the wall where it hangs with the others, adding a few extras to my quiver before flinging it over my back. Even if I don’t manage to find anything for supper, hopefully, Nikko will have caught something in one of his traps to hold us over. Before leaving, I turn away from the door to face the kitchen in search of something to tide me over until this evening. There are a few strips of dried venison left from the last stag I managed to bag, so I take a few of them and shove them into my pocket to gnaw on throughout the day. 

The air outside is even colder than the poorly insulated cabin and the pine needles crunch beneath my feet from the frost that layers the forest floor. Our home is located in the center of the trees, placed in a small clearing with just enough room for the cabin and our pen of goats who lift their sleepy heads to call at me, hopeful for food. I pause on my way past them to count the heads, realizing that yet another one is missing. Every few days for the past two weeks we have woken up to discover our herd dwindling, leading me to believe that something is picking them off one by one. The fence is never disturbed and the goats never make a ruckus to alert us of any predators, so whatever is responsible is not likely an animal. Whatever it is, it doesn’t stand a chance as soon as Kaisen returns. 

Aside from being unseasonably cold, the air seems heavy in a manner that strikes unease into the back of my mind. I take a moment to survey my surroundings, straining my ears to listen as I scan between the trees, finding nothing abnormal about the shadows of the forest today. I catalog the strange feeling for later and adjust the bow shaft over my shoulder, continuing on my way into the trees. I bring a piece of the dried meat from my pocket to chew while I walk, the sound of my gnawing my only company. Other than the birds, none of the other animals seem to have come out of their burrows for the morning yet. By the time I reach a good position, though, that should change. 

After a while of picking my way carefully through the fallen leaves and sticks on the ground, I finally came across a clearing that we like to use for hunting. There is a stream that runs through the meadow on the other side of the trees, which makes the clearing the perfect place to sit and wait for animals to come through in search of water. Careful not to disturb any creatures that may already be in the area, I hoist myself into a tree that faces the clearing, making sure that it’s located downwind before settling into the crook of a branch. 

As I sit in waiting, I keep my eyes trained on the clearing and the woods beyond in search of movement. The memory of my nightmare still lingers at the back corners of my mind, leaving a bad taste in my mouth that even the dried meat can not overpower. I busy my thoughts with the creature who has been stealing out goats instead, finding it to be a worthy distraction. Many things in the forest live and pass through it, so the possibilities of the culprit are vast. It could be a Werewolf, like the one that Kaisen was just hunting, or it could be something equally as dangerous. Either way, if it turns out that the beast is passing through, pausing only to pick off our available meat supply, then they are likely to head towards town once it runs dry. 

The first bits of sunlight begin to kiss the clearing, the golden light breaking apart the darkness. I fight off a shiver from the cold, hoping that the waking sun will bring a touch of warmth to the day. Since the season has not yet turned over to winter the temperature typically grows throughout the day, peaking around high noon to something more comfortable. I watch as the frost that coated the ground turns to whisps of cloud at the sun's rays, creating a thin fog throughout the clearing. It shouldn’t be much longer before the deer begin moving for the day, though I would be content with a fat rabbit or hog if I manage to spot one. 

After a few hours passed, the sun has successfully thawed my bones and awoken the animals of the forest. I’ve seen a few critters scurry through the brush of the clearing towards the stream, none of which had enough meat on their bones to make for a filling meal. I notice a particularly chunky musk rat making its way through the brambles and stealthily notch an arrow to aim. I wait until it scurries into the clearing before taking my shot, not wanting to waste the opportunity with a fumbled release.

 Even from my vantage point several yards above the ground, I still note how large its front teeth are, more sharpened than a bever. I release the bowstring and send the arrow sailing towards the large rodent, holding my breath. The arrow meets its mark and sinks into the rat's neck, toppling it over with a surprised squeak. I wait until it stops struggling before slackening the bowstring and readying myself to descend the tree to retrieve it. I get one foot on the branch below before my eyes catch movement entering the clearing and halt my movements, determined not to draw attention to myself. 

Not a predator animal that was drawn in by the scent of blood, to my relief. A young buck creeps cautiously into the clearing, his ears flicking in every direction in search of danger. His antlers are too small to be impressive due to his young age and I assume that he has only recently lost his fawn spots to take on his solid coat. Either way, he seems strong and healthy as he steps through the foliage, deciding to risk the open to reach the water source just beyond. 

I slowly press my shoulder into the trunk of the tree behind me to steady myself, reaching for an arrow to notch in. Thanks to my years of extensive training, my balance is good enough to hold me upright on the narrow branch below as I aim the buck, steadying my hands as he comes into a clear position. He makes a fatal mistake by pausing at the body of the muskrat to sniff it, curiosity getting the best of the young stag. While his head is bowed, I release my arrow and watch it tear through his lung, causing him to stagger to the side before he flees in panic, bounding sluggishly through the meadow. 

I curse beneath my breath and sling the bow over my shoulder, lowering myself to the ground with trained feet. Though the injury is vital, the buck is lively enough that the pain sent him into a spooked frenzy. He will succumb to his wound, but he will likely flee through the forest for a few yards before collapsing which means that I have to find the body before something else does. Knowing that there is something far worse than an animal lurking about fuels my adrenaline.