Chapter 31
Dark and Sticky
On the morning of Day Five, I protested with a whine and mashed the crook of my elbow over my eyes to block the sunlight pouring through the side of the tent.
Sweat, dew, and who knew what else soaked my skin.
“Hi, sunshine!” Farren chirped from the doorway, bent in half to peek inside. “If you’re up for it,” she nodded toward my leg, “We’re going gathering,” she then mouthed the word ‘hunting’. “Salah and I. Wanna come?”
Hunting? With a bow? With actual targets?
Hell, yeah!
This was something I could wake up for. The chance to authentically use my bow sparked something in me akin to fulfilment.
“As long as I don’t have to sprint, I’m game,” I said with a full grin as I shot up to sitting.
We set out about half an hour later after scarfing down a small breakfast of greens and granola. We took our weapons for ‘protection’ and promised the others we’d be back by lunch with some more food. Technically, none of it was a lie.
Farren led as she had the most experience with tracking and was confident in guiding us through the thick foliage both out and back.
We marched until we were far enough from camp that no one would accidentally stumble upon us.
If we got caught now, we’d never get to hunt. But if we came back with meat…
“Shhh,” Salah whispered, stopping and throwing a hand up before slowly rotating to her right.
I saw the leaves of a shrub shivering a few yards off before Salah fired a rifle.
We rushed toward the now lifeless bush. The bullet had hit a squirrel (maybe one of the sleazy ones that had been spying on me the night before).
This one was covered in dark, bloodstained fur.
Despite having seen this sort of thing in documentaries, my insides twisted and threatened to return the squirrel’s cousin I’d eaten for dinner last night.
At least watching fish die wasn’t so violent.
Something dark and sticky oozed under my skin at the sight.
The irony of my whole life revolving around killing someone when a dead squirrel freaked me out was by no means lost on me. But I’d take this as good preparation for what I’d have to be okay with to finally take out Azazel.
“Whoa,” I whispered. “That’s an insane shot. How did you see it?”
“Lucky shot,” Salah shrugged.
“No,” Farren cut in. “She’s just being modest. She heard it. Salah’s got the ears of a fox. Probably a Charism to be honest.”
The next two hours proved much less fruitful.
Everyone took a couple of shots and got nothing.
We had a quick snack for lunch and tried again.
Farren did manage to kill a bird, but it wasn’t edible because of some weird urban legend that claimed eating that type of bird would make your soul unclean.
“Alright,” Farren sighed. “We might as well call it a day. Let’s get back to camp. Hopefully, the boys had better luck.”
Salah and I followed in defeated silence.
We were halfway back to camp when we heard the bellow.
I didn’t even have time to ask what made the sound before we heard the scream. Salah and Farren bolted toward the noise. I sprinted after them, somehow overtaking them and reaching the source of both sounds first.
The howl rang out again, drawing my gaze to the base of an enormous tree with a red trunk, maybe a hundred meters off. The creature resembled a mangled bear with moose antlers. It pawed at the bark with claws as big as my head and wailed upward in desperation.
My eyes followed its line of sight.
Marigold hung doubled over a thick branch, arms and legs dangling like a rag doll.
The animal thrust itself against the tree, shaking it violently. Marigold scrambled to stay atop the slick branch.
Footsteps skidded to a stop behind me.
“Farren, you need to run and get Soren,” Salah whispered.
Without arguing, Farren dashed back through the woods with the softest of steps.
But I knew Soren wouldn’t make it in time, even with his speed. Marigold was going to fall to her death before Farren ever reached camp to alert him.
I drew my bow and cranked my elbow back.
If that thing got to her, she’d die a painful death.
“You could just shoot her and save her from all that misery. She’s a horrible person anyway.” The hissing in my head had me moving my aim to Marigold's temple.
Even with her flailing about, I could easily make that shot.
But then I remembered that shooting her would probably make it less probable for anyone in the guild to help me get Azazel. In fact, they’d probably execute me.
Oh, and it was morally wrong.
That small nugget pinged around in my conscience. As much as I hated Marigold, being the direct cause of her death tasted stale and bitter, dark and sticky.
I shifted my aim. The creature clawed ferociously at the bark, trying to hoist itself up the trunk.
My hand shook.
I’d shot smaller targets at farther distances with more range of motion a thousand times.
But those targets never tried to eat me if I missed.
And no one’s life had depended on it before.
My vision blurred. My mouth dried.
“Don’t shoot unless you have to,” Salah whispered. “It’s en—”
The creature lunged.
Marigold slipped, clinging to the branch by her arms, her scream drowning out the rest of Salah's warning. She wrestled desperately to hold on, but it was clearly a losing battle.
Then my black arrow sliced through the air, whistling in the woods until it drilled straight through the creature’s head and embedded into a tree behind it.
Both the creature and the tree shuddered violently before growing twice their size and then imploding inward. That’s the only way to describe it.
Marigold lost her grip in that moment and plummeted to the ground, landing atop the pile of black muck that had once been the creature.
Salah darted forward, but Soren was already there. Farren couldn’t possibly have reached camp that quickly. Still, I was grateful he was here after what I’d just witnessed, after what I’d just done.
I felt sick, like my organs were now melting into that same black muck.
Soren scooped Marigold into his arms and started toward me.
She whimpered, a sound I’d never imagined the vixen capable of.
If I’d expected Soren to thank me for saving Marigold’s life or to ask if I was okay, I’d have been sorely misguided.
Call me misguided, then.
And disappointed.
Lacking any of the above niceties, Soren snarled as he passed—not even looking at me—but his words struck like shrapnel: “You always choose murder, don’t you?”
By the time I processed what he meant, he’d passed me and made it out of earshot.
I turned to Salah, who studied the two puddles of what had once been living things. Her pupils were blown so wide I didn’t need a scope to see them even from this distance.
I huffed my way down the slope to where she stood.
“I can’t believe you killed an ursine. I didn’t even know they could be killed. And…a tree?” Salah’s voice was hollow. Her eyes were the opposite—brimming with terror. “What kind of arrow was that?”
I didn’t have an answer.
I didn’t think she expected one.
I’d not only killed the fauna and flora, but I’d also obliterated them. Imagine if it had been Marigold the arrow had struck. Matthias’s devastation filled my thoughts, Soren’s disgust on its heels. Dark and sticky.
Without answering, I pulled my quiver tighter against my shoulder, already planning to swap it out when we got back to camp. Whatever these arrows were, I couldn’t be responsible for their consequences again.
Not unless I use them on Azazel.
“Collateral be damned,” the voice hissed.
Salah and I walked back in silence. Well, I had my thoughts, but she only gave me silence.
By the time we returned, late afternoon inked the edges of the sky.
Farren rushed over, shaking her head with barely-contained excitement.
“Did you really kill an ursine?” she whispered, eyes gleaming.
“Is Marigold okay?” I asked, searching the campsite.
“Yeah, she’ll be fine.”
Farren tugged me toward the firepit, where Matthias was fanning a small flame with a giant leaf. Adriel stood across the pit, carving up what looked like a deer.
“Guess it doesn’t matter that my kill eviscerated into nothing,” I chuckled dryly. “The boys got meat anyway.”
Salah brushed past, patting my shoulder. “I’m gonna rinse off first,” she said distantly.
I watched the black footprints she left behind.
I looked at my own boots and caught traces of the same. Evidence that I’d erased something from existence.
I kicked the boots off before climbing into the tent I’d woken in that morning.
Rinsing off sounded nice.
But I needed to be alone more.
Eventually, I did slip away to the creek. The sun still graced the forest floor with fragments of light on the way out, but by the time I headed back, its light was spent. I’d taken longer than I meant to and had to navigate the dark on my own. Only the moon and his stars kept me company.
“Where have you been?!” Farren asked as she jumped out from behind a tree at the clearing’s edge.
I dropped my wet clothes like a lead weight and screeched.
Great. Now I’ll have to wash them all over again.
I snatched my clothes back up and shook them off as best I could. My face heated as I avoided looking toward the others gathered around the fire. I didn’t want to know how many people had witnessed my yelp of fright.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” I hissed and swatted Farren’s arm after my clothes were tucked safely at my side.
She laughed and strolled back toward the bonfire. “Hurry up before Adriel eats all the good parts.”
Adriel was already scarfing down a pile of roasted vegetables like he was determined to do just that.
Matthias and Salah sat beside him, harmonizing their way through a song.
“Even in the storm,
I know you see me.
You guide me through the night.
I know you’re with me.”