The Huntress [2024]

Prologue - Remembrance

THE SHOT IS FAIR; I can take it. In the wide wintry field of half-frozen soil and broken, gold-brown stalks—all that remains from the year's harvest–my quarry leaps over the gently rolling hills, completely oblivious to the fact that I'm not far behind it and inching closer by the second. Its doom is impending; I am the hunter and it is the hunted. I am the one with the power, the one with the bow in her hands. And yet I can't help but check myself as a wave of envy surges through me. What must it be like to wander in such blessed peace? To live life as a dumb beast ignorant of the human huntress stalking you like a shadow, but to feel happy in the clean, stripped winter air, in a field flanked by icy streams and thickets of desiccated trees? What must it be like to have the constant worry and pull of responsibilities of real life?

And more importantly: What must it be like to be free of the constant weight of memories?

The memories. The memories are what brought me out of bed and led me to the hunting grounds on this fair day. They usually begin as dreams and carry on as such—until I realize that my screaming has torn me out of my sleep and pulled me into my waking hours, but the dream is still ongoing, a nightmare that does not retreat with the cold sweat that slowly sinks back into my skin. They stay with me, wherever I go. And they linger here too, in the vast earthen expanse of the hunting grounds. A winter haze has just started to whip up, and pewter colored clouds steal across the sky. I have only so much time; for this moment in the field is a long ago memory of mine too, and it will be ending soon...

The field fades from view, and my mind, my stupid, fractured mind, switches to a new vision, a more recent vision. A story that has run through my head for the past week, and it goes like this:

The day Emma died, she came to me.

Help me, she said. She was shaking with fear, on the verge of being sick on my front doorstep. Athene, you have to help me.

What is it? I said.

Her filmy white blouse was stained with mud. When she looked at me, her whole being trembled as though her body was trying to contain some secret about to burst from her chest. Her piercing blue eyes were not those of any human woman. They were too large, a little wild and a little erratic. Terrified.

Outside, there were the sounds of drizzling rain, the whirl of Duluth traffic, the shriek of the small bundle she held too tightly in her arms.
   
I told her to calm down, sit, and have a nice cup of hot chocolate. That's all I could offer her. She didn't listen.

They're after me.

Who is after you?

I can't say.

Tell me.

The words out of her mouth next must have belonged to a vision she had seen, one of the many she has experienced on her journey to Hell and back again. She spoke of monsters and beings and cold voices that bite into the skin and never leave.

And then one bone-chilling word: Hunters.

Emma, I asked her. What did you take? I need to bring you to a hospital.

No! That got her attention. No hospitals. Athene, please. Just help me. You're the only one who can. Stop them before they kill me. They're going to kill me!

Rest. I promise I won't let them. I got up and moved to the hall to grab some blankets. I wasn't about to let her return to the godforsaken street at this late hour. And the beds at the shelter were full as usual. But when I returned, she was gone, and the baby was, too.

A couple hours later, I found her dead on my front steps.

The memory from last week fades and the old winter field returns. I've seen this one for the past few months. It returns to me every night, and I relive it over and over.

My breath is crisp and even as I zero in on my quarry. I've seen it in my dreams before the townies spotted it in their backyards, a mere angel dropping in on a visit. It must be some sort of divine offering because it is beautiful and utterly unlike any creature I've ever laid eyes on, man or beast. A large doe with a golden coat that seems to shimmer with reflected light, a sight that will take your breath away. It's a magnificent beast—and right now, empty space is the only thing between it and my arrow.

It bounds up the hill, its hind legs bunching with awesome power and majesty, its body rippling with muscle. Pale golden light breaks through the clouds as though even the gods see and appreciate its beauty.

But I don't. Not with the pound of phantom traffic in my ear and the sight of my dead friend before my eyes. I simply don't care.

I am the huntress. I am the queen. I do not bend on the hunting field; I do not break.

And I do not feel remorse as I pull back my bowstring and let the arrow fly.

A/N:
Hi, everyone! Thanks for picking up the newly revised version of The Huntress! I'm still working out an update schedule for this one, but I hope you enjoy. :)

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