Chapter Ten
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ARKAS CONTINUED TO work on the oak branch until he was tired enough to sleep.
He woke up at dawn and performed a patrol of the property.
There were no signs of any intruders, so he reentered the house and climbed up to the attic again.
He grabbed his work in progress and toolkit, then headed back outside.
Crows cawed to each other, probably discussing dining on his corpse if he did them a favor and died.
Chuckling at that notion, Arkas took a seat on the swing.
He ran his thumb over the curve of the feminine waist he was shaping.
So far, he’d turned what had been a rough branch into the outline of a female.
One arm was at her side, with her palm pressed against her thigh.
The other arm was bent, with her fist tucked beneath her chin.
“This is turning out far better than I thought it would,” he said, pleased with his efforts so far.
His focus was mostly on whittling, but he kept his senses alert for trouble. Several hours passed and the figurine neared completion. Her body was perfect, with full breasts, slender legs and hair that reached to her waist.
Arkas was lost in his work as he painstakingly whittled her face.
Finished at last, he studied the carving he’d lightly sanded to smooth the wood perfectly.
“She’s beautiful,” he said in awe, amazed that he’d crafted something so stunning.
“It’s nowhere near as good as the stag, but it’s going on the coffee table next to it,” he said, proud of his achievement.
“I wish this female was real,” he said wistfully.
“I’ve never seen anyone so perfect before. ”
Standing, he stretched, then headed back inside.
He climbed the stairs to the attic and entered his domain.
For a moment, he thought he sensed someone at the back of the house and frowned.
His eyes went to the coffee table and widened.
“It’s gone!” he said in instant anger. Someone had somehow broken in without alerting him to their presence and had stolen the stag.
Furious at the invasion, Arkas put his carving on the coffee table and strode over to the window.
Peering down, he saw a flicker of movement beneath the trees.
“There you are,” he murmured in triumph, then went on the move.
It had just been a glimpse of dark clothing, but it was definitely a person rather than an animal.
Expecting the back door to be unlocked, the knight yanked the doorknob off by accident.
The thief had cleverly relocked the door to slow him down.
He didn’t want to smash it open and ruin his defenses and he didn’t have a key.
Cursing beneath his breath, he spun around and sprinted to the front door.
He exited and raced to the back yard. No one was there when he reached the trees.
Sending his senses out, he couldn’t pick anyone up on his radar.
“It has to be a Soldier of Chaos,” he said grimly.
Some of them could mask their presence. He must have stolen the stag to try to draw Arkas into a trap.
“So where is he?” the warrior asked in frustration as he turned in a circle.
It wasn’t much of a trap if there weren’t any clues for him to follow.
Following a hunch, he started running towards the town.
He spied footprints in the light snow and came to a stop.
“These are too small to belong to a male,” he said as he studied them.
That meant the robber was female. Or maybe it was a teenager who was responsible.
If so, then he was even more confused. “Why can’t I sense the thief? ” he asked.
Receiving no answer, Arkas followed the footprints to the road and lost them.
Wind had scoured the snow away, leaving the open road bare.
Sprinting to town, he picked up on the locals.
Most were still inside the houses he’d sensed them in yesterday.
Some people were out and about, searching their neighbors’ houses for supplies.
It was an exercise in futility, since every deserted home had already been picked over.
Avoiding the humans, the warrior searched for someone who didn’t show up on his senses. He must have overlooked the burglar during his previous search. This time, he listened intently at each building he came to. His hearing was acute enough to hear the rustle of clothing and shifting of movement.
Several hours later, he gave up in defeat. “You’re here somewhere,” Arkas said with a glower, sweeping his gaze across the main street as he trudged back to the center of town.
Entering the boutique where the wood carvings were, he saw a few pieces were now missing.
“The robber took them,” he figured. None of the sculptures caught his attention as much as the stag had.
He wasn’t about to settle for anything less than his favorite piece.
Glad to have a mystery to solve, Arkas was now more intrigued than angry at the theft.
“It’s got to be a local,” he mused, examining the pieces that were left. “Someone knew I’d taken the stag and they knew where I was staying. They feel I don’t deserve something as beautiful as that work of art.”
Moving closer to the giraffe in the window, Arkas saw a card taped to one of its legs.
“Oaklie Woods,” he read out loud. “Local artist,” he added.
He now had the name of the person who’d created the sculptures, but that wasn’t going to help him.
Oaklie Woods was probably dead or had been raptured.
Whoever the burglar was, it wasn’t going to be easy to find them.
“What now?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips and thinking hard.
He’d already searched every home in town.
There were plenty of other properties like the one he’d chosen to be his base further away from town.
“I guess I’ll have to visit them all until I find the culprit,” he said in growing anticipation.
The thrill of the hunt was already getting to him.
This would be an entertaining way to kill time until Amaros finally turned up.
“I need a map,” he decided. Knowing where the properties were and how many he would need to search would be a big help.
He’d passed a gas station on his way to town and backtracked to it. The small store had been ransacked for food and beverages. Arkas spotted a shelf behind the counter that contained books and maps. “I hope they’re local maps,” he said as he rounded the counter to take a closer look at them.
Sorting through the maps, Arkas found one of the town and surrounding area.
“This will do,” he said in satisfaction and studied it.
Picking up a pen from the counter, he crossed off every building in town.
He’d already ascertained that the thief wasn’t in any of them.
“Where should I begin my search?” he mused, trying to decide.
“To the south,” he said at last, figuring he would work his way through the properties closest to his lair.
The footprints could have been strategically placed there to lead him astray.
Arkas took the map and pen with him and began his search. Like all experienced hunters, he approached the properties from behind cover. Getting close to the first house, he couldn’t sense or hear anyone inside.
“I knew that would be too easy,” he said after sneaking up to the back door to listen intently.
Crossing the house off on the map, he moved on to the next home.
It would take him at least a few days to search all of the nearby residences.
Strangely, Arkas almost hoped Amaros wouldn’t turn up yet to retrieve him.
He wanted to find the burglar and discover how they could hide their presence from him.
Humans rarely possessed supernatural abilities.
Maybe some had evolved since the last era.
If so, then he wondered what other abilities their kind could now use.
“It can’t be a cambion,” Arkas said as he crossed to the next property.
“We wiped them all out during our last war.” Five millennia had passed since then, so it was doubtful any of the evil spawn of their enemies could still be alive.
“If so, they won’t be for long,” he said grimly.
He would personally ensure the creature wouldn’t be able to cause more misery to the already beleaguered survivors of this world.