The Cardinal Sky (PREVIEW ONLY)

CH: 1.1 ⤗ SKY

"They descended, they decimated, and they sent us crashing back into the dark ages!" ~ General Grayson Hawk, Skineater.

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Sky was here to hunt, not to be the prey. Crouching behind a bush, she glared through the gaps into the forest. A soft gasp drew her attention to two males hiding ten feet away behind a three-foot-wide tree. She raised her index finger to her lips, signaling to her companions to be silent. The older, John, acknowledged her with a sharp nod, but she wasn't worried that he would give them away.

The youngest of their hunting party, Dan, wore the expression of a startled animal, with his eyes so wide the whites showed on all sides. At fifteen, he should have been able to defend himself, but his father—their leader, Sam—had wanted to give him as normal a childhood as possible. Whatever that was nowadays?

Sky slithered through the branches, silent as a snake. A faint rustle, over the chirping insects, stilled her movement.

"Over there," a male whispered.

With those two words, he'd exposed his location.

Sky locked onto the man, hunching next to a mammoth oak. Through the foliage, she took stock of the short sword at his hip and the crossbow he held level with his chin. His finger rested on the trigger, ready to fire at a threat. The man's gaze drifted over the brush she hid in, but he wouldn't spot her unless she wanted him to. Sky never went hunting without applying ash to her face or wearing her dark brown beanie to cover her eye-catching platinum hair. And she had years of experience stalking and remaining concealed to her prey—both human and animal.

A second man stuck his head around a tree a few yards beyond the first and squinted, scanning the forest filled with giant aspen and oaks that should not have existed.

Sky scowled down at the archaic longbow in her grip. She should've never agreed to that stupid bet Dan had made—to hunt with this antique. Sliding an arrow from the quiver slung across her back, she nocked it without disturbing the surrounding leaves. If these men were who she suspected, they would be the type to shoot first and ask questions later, and the slightest wrong move would set them off.

"Sk—"

John clamped his hand over Dan's mouth so fast he'd cut off the word, making it sound more like a squeak.

The first man swung his aim around and fired. The bolt whizzed past John and Dan and sank into a large, exposed root a few yards beyond them.

A loud squeal echoed through the forest, and a skunk darted out, hissing.

Sky shot Dan a furious look.

"Is that a skunk?" the second man hissed in a tone that sounded like the angry animal.

An acrid odor exploded through the forest and overpowered Sky's acute olfactory receptors. Dan scrunched his nose up, then he smashed his face into John's jacket, although Sky doubted that smelled much better.

"Shit, that stinks." Man-two backed away, swinging his hand up to cover his nose, and that quick movement confirmed who they were. Around his wrist was a dark purple leather vambrace with two rows of metal studs, and above it was their accursed black mark—an ominous tribal skull tattoo.

She'd been right. They were Skineaters. Frigging perfect. This was why she'd argued against moving this far south. They were practically in the Warlord's territory, but Sam's reasoning had been sound. Too many in their community had died from exposure the previous winter. She still hadn't liked it and look where it had led them—right into the Skineater nation's backyard.