THE HUNT DISPLAY
Nyx
Nyx runs.
Her paws drum the earth, her thick fur rustling against the wind. The forest stinks of sweat and blood where the pack scatters, tearing after rabbits and foxes. Their growls and yelps charge the air.
Nyx is unimpressed because these are small prey. They’re not enough for her. She veers away from them, nose lifting to the wind. She will not waste her jaws on scraps. The Moon Goddess demands more.
Bigger, she thinks. Prove it. Prove her worth.
She slips through brush like smoke, ears flicking. The others crash loudly and carelessly. But Nyx listens. A twig snaps in the distance. She knows it in her heart—it’s not a hare or a fox.
A pristine stag bursts into the clearing, antlers wide, and eyes wild. Its hooves strike sparks on stone as it leaps.
Nyx bares her teeth, joy flooding her veins. Yes. This one.
She lunges. Muscles coil, claws slash bark as she launches high. Her fangs sink at the throat, clean and deep. The stag shudders, then collapses. Nyx stands over it, panting, chest blazing with triumph.
The Moon Goddess has her proof.
She noses the stag once, then steps back. She will come now. She will carry what I have won.
And so, she lets go.