25. Harper
25
When they halted to make camp for the night, Harper had had enough of Erika’s pointed glances and her quips at Harper’s incompetence and na?veté. A hot, heavy feeling clogged her chest and retorts bubbled on her tongue, but that was so twisted with emotion she could not get a word of it out. “I’ll catch supper,” she said with gritted teeth, having borrowed Aedon’s bow and three of his arrows. They did not answer, and she ignored the smile he flashed her as she turned and stalked into the trees, feeling the burn of their attention on the back of her neck.
She strode fast and hard, burning away the burden of the negative emotions churning with her. Soon, her feet had carried her beyond the noise of the camp, and she stopped, breathing hard, to steady herself. Now, she would need to creep, else she would alert the whole forest to her presence and it would all be for nought. She pushed away the thought of returning empty handed. She could not bear that. There was a point to prove today. She had to bring something back to prove her worth and earn her place at the fire that night. She would not be the useless mouth Erika had deemed her. She was a huntress—and a capable one at that.
Harper’s gaze roved back and forth as she swept the area until she found a game trail meandering through the trees. She stopped to examine the tracks. Deer. A fox-like creature. Perhaps the hint of a bear. She would have to be careful. She looked around. Nothing moved. Camp was silent in the distance, but if she had to scream, she was certain they could hear her. The woods were deserted too. She had left camp hot-headed—but hunting was no place for emotion and she needed to acclimatise to her unfamiliar tool.
With practised hands, she strung the bow and drew it a few times, testing its strength. The limb bent silently in her hands. This bow is well made, she noted appreciatively. It was stronger than her own. She turned slowly, scanning the woods and spotting a rotten log. A soft and easy target. In quick succession, she shot the three arrows at it, straight into the target. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Harper retrieved them, wiping the damp, rotting matter from the shafts and tips with the hem of her cloak. After retreating farther away, she shot again, adjusting to make her mark. Twice more she repeated it, until she was sure she could hit what she needed. For the last time, she rustled through the undergrowth and bent low to pull the arrows from the stump. It was time to commence the real hunt.
A twig cracked behind her.
“What is a girl like you doing in the woods so far from… anything?” a deep voice drawled.
Harper whirled around. Her heart thundered into life and adrenaline flooded her system—she nearly fell in her haste to right her balance. Without thought, the bow was in her hands and drawn, an arrow nocked and pointed at the stranger. Their gazes locked, and she could not look away. Violet eyes set under dark brows challenged her. For an instant, they seemed familiar, and then the feeling passed as her blood carried the threat of this male singing through her veins.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was no longer the sound of the arrows, but her own heart pounding as the swirling rush inside her spiked with fear. If she had considered Aedon handsome, this was the most perfect male she had ever laid eyes on. Aedon was boyish charm and a tumble on a summer’s night… but this male was the promise of sin and darkness. He cocked his head as they appraised each other, and Harper felt as though she stared down the jaws of a wolf.
His build was taller and slimmer, more athletic than Aedon, and his glowing skin paler in stark contrast against his dark, cropped hair. He wore the finest garments she had ever seen. Silks, silver threads, jewelled buttons. They made Lord Denholme’s wardrobe look like rags, and made this delicious and intimidating stranger all the more imposing.
Pointed ears, she noted, and that lightning charging through her intensified. He was an elf—which meant he had magic, and she was damn near defenceless. He was utterly out of place in the midst of the woods, with not a speck of dirt or dust upon him. Yet he nonchalantly leaned against a tree, betraying no fear of her or the weapon currently pointed at him.
“Stay back! I’ll shoot.” Her voice wobbled, and she cursed herself silently.
He smiled, but it was a dark, predatory smile that set her nerves on edge.
“Who are you?” Her voice rang through the deserted trees.
His smile widened even further, as if he could hear the edge of fear in her voice. He pushed off the tree and took a step toward her.
It only took a moment.
Her fingers slipped from the string reflexively. Her arrow flew true. Harper screamed, somehow knowing he was dangerous, hoping they would hear, because she already knew she stood no chance against him if he meant to harm her. In a split second, his hand waved and the arrow vanished.
“That was rude, little huntress,” he hissed at her. As he advanced, flames flickered in his open palms.
Harper nocked another arrow. Her blood sang with terror, and the shaft wobbled against the string. She would go down fighting—but she knew it was hopeless.