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A branch cracked on the ground, crunching leaves and disturbing the calm that lingered in the air. Light eyes snapped over to her, glaring in fright before the deer turned and skipped away, chirps falling out of its mouth to alert others of the intruder.
She cursed, her stomach turning. Was it hunger or bitterness? She wasn't sure. Her mouth was dry, but she picked up her bow, tucked it behind her back and walked forwards.
Her legs were tired, weakened with malnourishment. They shook. Her shoes were barely that, two strips of cloth bound around a thick sole, hardly enough protection from the bitter chill freezing her bones. Snow dampened them. Her breath was visible, and her hands were so cold that she could barely hold the knife to set the traps.
She tried. Her steps were careful and measured as she trekked through the forest, the snow revealing trails that would otherwise be invisible. Hooves. Deer. A family from what it looked like.
A breath escaped her. They would not go hungry another night.
She kept to the trees, carrying her body in such a way that the wind wouldn't pick up her scent to give her away. She pulled her hood up, and she walked forwards and over a hill, stopping on a rock and taking her position. The bow was pliant in her hand, firm but wielding, and she brought it back. Her eyes scanned the forest.
Five figures of brown glared back at her. Three adults and two fawns. She aimed for the buck, its giant antlers almost like a beacon, calling her to it. She envisioned the kill, let her hand pull back and then release. As easy as breathing.
Her shot landed. The arrow, handcrafted and a bit uneven, soared through the flurrying skies, stamping itself in the heart of the beast.
Blood stained the white ground, coating it in a crimson so warm that steam rose. She walked up to it, heart aching, but body warming at the thought of giving her family a meal. This could last them up to a week if they rationed it well. She would just have to instruct them to be careful.
"Apologies," she said to it before picking it up and dragging it back towards the heart of the forest.
The journey was perilous, much harder than her trek there. She had expended so much of her energy that her arms much less her legs were barely able to keep up with the walk. The antlers were sharp and poked through her tough skin, blood warm against her ice skin.
She got to the hut, breathing deeply through her nose. Her chest heaved, but she called out, "Mother! I have brought us a deer! Prepare the fire! We shall eat well as the storm passes."
The entrance to the hut opened, but it wasn't her mother who exited the building. It was a tall man, burlier than her father, with eyes as dark as the night sky. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes, his smile toothless.
