Through Smoke and Ashes

Fourteen||The Hunter & The Hunted

I had been on the island of Aeberuthey long enough to watch the bright greens of summer fade into a blaze of amber and gold. The forest, once vibrant and alive with the hum of insects and the trill of songbirds, had grown quieter with the turning of the season. Each morning, a thin veil of mist clung to the trees, curling low around their roots before dissolving in the pale light. The air was colder now—sharper, laced with the faint tang of smoke from our campfire and the promise of rain.

I tugged my cloak tighter around my shoulders, grateful for the heat that pulsed from the massive shape stretched behind me. Naxan's breathing was steady, a low rumble that vibrated through the ground and into my spine. He had found us a cave deep within the forest's spine—a hollow framed by basalt and ivy, large enough for his wings to fold comfortably and warm enough to keep us through the winter.

At that moment, I sat cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by shavings of wood and half-finished arrows. My fingers were stiff from the chill, but I didn't stop working. Alec's voice still echoed in my head, curt and patient all at once, pointing out the flaws in my early attempts until I had managed to craft something passable. The bow lying beside me was far from elegant. Its limbs slightly uneven, the grip rough against my palm, but it was mine. The first thing I had ever built with my own hands.

I ran my fingers along the curve of the bow, tracing the faint scars in the wood. "Not the prettiest thing," I murmured, "but it'll do."

The arrowheads gleamed dull gray where I had chipped and sharpened the stone. In another life, I might have had access to smelted metal and proper tools—but Aeberuthey was far removed from such conveniences. Out here, the forest gave what it could, and I learned to take only what I needed. Sometimes, it felt like living in another century—primitive, yes, but honest.

Naxan had caught a buffalo calf the day before, and Alec had taught me how to use every part of the animal. The hide now lined my bedroll, soft and warm beneath me at night. The sinew of its leg strung my bow, strong and taut. Nothing wasted. Nothing taken for granted.

When I finally tied off the last arrow, pride flared in my chest. My hands were raw, my back ached, and my stomach growled for something more than berries and water—but I felt capable in a way I hadn't for a long time.

Naxan stirred, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. His scales caught the firelight, shifting between black and deep violet. "Smells," he grumbled, his wings twitching slightly.

I groaned, already knowing what he meant. "Thanks for reminding me, Naxan," I said dryly, gathering my things into my pack. His blunt honesty never failed to make me feel self-conscious.

As I pushed aside a few bundles of herbs, something dark caught my eye—the stone. I hadn't seen it in weeks, maybe months. Its surface swirled with shadow, like storm clouds trapped beneath glass. For a moment, I could have sworn light flickered deep within it, a heartbeat of silver before it vanished again.

Naxan's body went rigid. In an instant, he coiled protectively around me, his great head dipping low to peer into my pack. His nostrils flared again, the air vibrating as he exhaled.

"It's fine," I assured him, though my pulse quickened. "It's just—"

Before I could finish, he shoved his snout into the bag. Supplies tumbled out—rope, flint, herbs, and dried meat scattering over the dirt. When the bag caught on one of his horns, he snorted, shaking his head furiously. The sight made me laugh, the sound ringing clear and unexpected through the forest.

"Hold still, you brute," I said between giggles, tugging the bag free. His indignant growl only made me laugh harder. For a creature capable of bringing down a horse in one bite, he was remarkably bad at fighting a piece of fabric.