Page 30 of Ashes, Apples, & Amorous Orcs
My reflection stares back from the water's surface—hollow-eyed, stubble-covered, streaked with dirt and determination. I look like exactly what I am: a predator tracking prey through its natural element. The forest has always been my domain, even when the town pretends civilization ends at the tree line.
A raven's harsh cry echoes from somewhere behind me, but I don't turn around. Whatever message it carries can wait until this hunt is finished. Nothing matters except finding that wolf and making sure it never threatens another innocent person.
The tracks continue on the other side of the creek, heading toward a rocky outcropping that would provide good cover for a wounded animal. My pace quickens despite my exhaustion. Close now. Very close.
The familiar granite outcropping looms ahead, weathered stone jutting from the forest floor like broken teeth. I've been here before. Recently.
My boots stop moving as the realization crashes through my exhaustion-fogged mind. The moss-covered boulder to my left, the twisted oak with its lightning-scarred trunk, the cluster of ferns growing in the shadow of fallen logs—I passed this exact spot three hours ago.
"Impossible." The word escapes as a growl, but even as I say it, I'm dropping to examine the tracks again. Fresh prints overlay older ones in the soft earth. My own boot marks from earlier are there, partially obscured by newer wolf sign.
The beast led me in a perfect circle.
My pulse quickens as the pieces come together. The dragging paw print I'd been following—too obvious, too easy to track. The broken branches marking its path like breadcrumbs for a fool hunter. The blood spots that appeared just frequently enough to keep me moving forward.
Moore wolves are intelligent, but this level of tactical thinking suggests something more. Something desperate and cunning enough to turn the hunt back on the hunter.
I straighten slowly, hand moving to my knife hilt as I scan the surrounding forest. Every shadow could hide death. Every rustling leaf could mask the sound of approaching claws. The silence that felt wrong earlier now screams danger.
The attack comes from my blind spot, a gray-brown blur launching from behind a cluster of saplings I'd already cleared as safe. Two hundred pounds of muscle and fury slams into my back, sending us both crashing to the forest floor in a tangle of limbs and snapping teeth.
Pain explodes across my shoulder blades where claws rake through leather and flesh. The wolf's weight pins me face-down against the dirt, and I taste blood and earth as my chin scrapes against exposed roots.
"You clever bastard," I grunt, rolling hard to the right and throwing my elbow back into what I hope is the creature's ribs.
The wolf yelps but doesn't release its grip. Its jaws snap inches from my neck, close enough that I feel the heat of its breath and smell the rank odor of rotting meat between its teeth. My knife is pinned beneath my body, useless.
Exhaustion makes my movements sluggish. Two days without real sleep, surviving on jerky and creek water, and now this beast has every advantage. It knows these woods. It chose the battlefield. It's been resting while I've been stumbling through the forest like an amateur.
The wolf shifts its weight, going for a killing bite at my throat. I get my forearm up just in time, crying out as its fangs sink deep into muscle and scrape against bone. Blood flows hot down my arm, but the thick leather of my bracer keeps the teeth from severing anything vital.
"Not today," I snarl through gritted teeth, using the wolf's grip on my arm as leverage to roll us both toward a fallen log.
The impact drives the breath from both our lungs, but I recover faster. My free hand finds a jagged piece of broken branch, sharp as any blade. Without hesitation, I drive it deep into the wolf's exposed flank.
The beast releases my arm with a howl of pain and fury, blood frothing at its muzzle. But instead of retreating, it lunges again—desperation making it reckless.
This time I'm ready. My knife clears its sheath in one smooth motion, finding the space between the wolf's ribs as it commits to its final attack. The blade slides home with a wet sound, piercing heart and lung in a single thrust.
Its massive body goes limp.
It's done. But I feel no satisfaction.
My stomach clenches with a hunger that has nothing to do with the two days of jerky and creek water. The wolf's blood cools on my knife blade as memory crashes through my exhaustion like a physical blow.
The raven. Yesterday morning, perched on a low branch near my cabin, one leg extended with a small roll of parchment tied with lavender-colored thread. Isolde's careful handwriting inviting me to dinner. Just the two of us. Tonight.
"Shit." The word explodes from my lips as I stagger to my feet, leaving the wolf's carcass where it fell. My wounded arm throbs, but I ignore the pain as I crash through the underbrush toward town. Branches tear at my already-shredded vest. My boots slip on wet leaves as I push my exhausted body beyond its limits.
The forest blurs past in streaks of brown and gold. I vault over fallen logs, dodge between trees, take shortcuts through brambles that leave new cuts across my arms. The scent of woodsmoke and baking bread grows stronger as I near the town's edge.
Harvest Hollow's lanterns glow like scattered stars in the darkness. Most windows are dark—the sensible people already tucked into their beds while I stumble through the night like some wild thing. Which, considering my appearance, isn't far from the truth.
I round the corner of Maddie's orchard, my breath coming in harsh gasps that fog in the cool night air. The cottage windows are dark except for a single candle flickering in what I know is the kitchen. My boots pound up the wooden steps, and I raise my fist to knock on the door.
The sound echoes louder than intended in the quiet night. Footsteps approach from inside, and the door swings open to reveal Maddie in a pale nightgown, auburn hair braided for sleep.
She takes in my appearance—blood-stained, dirt-covered, with leaves tangled in my hair.
