Chapter Twenty-Two Amund
Chalk scrapes as Father scrawls Ecology of Fear across the blackboard. “Can anyone tell me what this is?” he asks, turning to look out over our Hunting Techniques class.
I wait to see if anyone is going to raise their hand. Once, I asked Father why we hunt the wild berserkir, and he explained the concept to me in detail.
No one volunteers, so I answer. “It’s the idea that animals who know they’re being hunted will behave differently,” I say, using the same words Father did. “For example, hunted animals will be less likely to approach humans or will even alter their behavior during the day to avoid hunters.”
Father nods. Smiles. “Correct. Very good.”
Something warm spreads through me at his praise.
He writes on the board:
Ways predators impact prey behavior:
Approach distance
Diurnal activity
Vigilance
As I jot down the last one, it makes me think of Edith.
She knows I’m hunting her now. She’s going to become more careful, making my job that much more difficult.
Especially since I’m beginning to have doubts after Saturday.
Catching her in the seer school was supposed to convince me of her guilt, not make me question it.
But her gray eyes were so wide, so frightened, when she ran into me. Was that really the look of a killer?
I can’t get her expression out of my head.
When I found her standing over Emilía, I mistook it as emotionless, but what if Edith was in shock?
She didn’t lie about not being able to go berserk either.
Her file confirmed as much. There are just as many things that don’t add up about Edith being the killer as there are that do.
What if I’ve been wrong about Edith the entire time?
After class, I wait until everyone leaves before approaching Father at his desk.
“You did well today,” he says.
I fight a smile. “I have a good teacher.”
“How is your other assignment going?”
“Slowly,” I admit. “I haven’t made as much progress as I hoped. But there was a development this weekend.” I scan the empty classroom to make sure we’re alone before I add, “The suspect visited the seer school. She claimed she was being followed.”
I make no mention of the doubt that’s been creeping in.
“You must have been sloppy if a new berserkr could detect you,” Father says with a frown. He pulls open a drawer and removes three pieces of lignite. “Take these, since you clearly need them. But know there aren’t any more after this.”
It wasn’t me that Edith detected, but I know better than to tell Father that. Either way, these helm of concealments will definitely be useful. If Helga—or anyone else, for that matter—found out I was tracking Edith, I’d be in serious trouble.
Too bad these are the last three.
I’ll have to be careful how I use them.
“Thank you,” I say, brushing off his disappointment and tucking the lignite away. “She claimed another berserkr was following her, even though no one else was there.”
“No one should be.” He grunts. “That school was abandoned for good reason.”
I search his face, trying to judge whether or not I should ask him more, but I can’t stop myself from saying, “Actually, that wasn’t the only thing. Your portrait was there too.”
“Was it?” He focuses on his papers, seeming unconcerned. “You must be confusing me with Trygve.”
I’m not. I know I’m not. It had his name.
For some reason, Father doesn’t want anyone to know he’s a seer.
Not even me.