“What do we do until then?” a man called out.
“Aye, how do we protect ourselves?” shouted another.
He looked out over them, his brief pause saying more than words. “Run! Run if you see it or it will tear you apart as it did my man.”
Voices raised in concern.
The Hunter raised his arm to silence the crowd, then said, “What walks your forest is no common beast. No creature born of these lands.”
A murmur moved through the villagers, quiet but strained.
“It can come from only one place… Driochmor,” the Hunter said, the name falling heavy among them. “A thing shaped where such creatures are not bound as they should be. And now it roams free.”
Judith drew in a sharp breath beside Bria, her unease no longer contained.
Bria felt it as well, though for her it did not come from his words alone. It came from memory, from what she had seen for herself, from what she had stood before and somehow survived.
“We ride to the king, and word will be sent to Lord Edmond, your regional lord,” the Hunter continued, his tone leaving no room for question. “The king will see that the creature meets its death. Until then, you would be wise to keep to your village and pray this thing does not return.”
Silence settled when he finished, though it brought no comfort.
Bria stood among them, Judith still beside her, the village no longer the safe home it had been when she had last walked its paths.
Her gaze drifted, almost without her willing it, toward the forest beyond. Whatever the Hunters believed they faced—she knew something more.
It had seen her, and it had chosen not to strike.
Why?
And why had she said nothing about her encounter with the creature?
Chapter Two
Willowmere
Where No One Suffers Alone
The brew had steeped long enough.
Bria lifted the small pot from the low flame and poured it carefully into a waiting cup, watching the thin curl of steam rise before her. The scent of familiar herbs filled the small space of her cottage, providing a moment of calm, though unease still lingered.
It had been three days since she had returned from the forest. Three days since the incident with the creature.
Her hands remained steady as she set the pot aside, though her thoughts did not follow so easily. The memory lingered with a clarity she could not dull—the size of it, the sound it had made, and the way it had stood before her, close enough that she had felt its breath.
And yet… it had turned away.
Bria wrapped her hands around the cup, drawing in its warmth as though it might settle what still moved uneasily within her. The village had not returned to what it had been, not fully. Life continued, as it must, but something had changed, something she felt in the quieter moments and saw in the way people carried themselves.
They spoke less, listened more, and no one went into the forest alone.
She had heard it said more than once over the past days, sometimes quietly, sometimes with forced confidence thatfooled no one. The paths remained, the work still needed doing, but the trust that had once guided every step beyond the village had been shaken.
And still, she had said nothing of what she had seen.
The thought pressed at her again, as it had since the incident. Was keeping silent the right thing to do? She told herself there was no sense in stirring more fear, not when there was already enough to trouble every mind in Willowmere. But was that simply an excuse?
Bria lifted the cup and took a small sip, then set it aside unfinished.
