Inhale.
Exhale.
Let go.
The arrow pierces the air in a heartbeat and lands true right in the rabbit’s side. It didn’t even have the time to bolt.
A grim kind of triumph settles over me.
The memories from my very last mission as a cadet surge to the front of the mind.
The crowd cheers. There’s the scent of blood and violence in the air as I draw the arrows, one by one. All landing true in those poor faes’ flesh.
Oh, the adrenaline that courses through me when my bow finally reveals its name…
I blink the memories away and shake my head.
Slowly, I retrieve the rabbit by the hind legs and carry it back to my camp. That’s where I’m faced with my first problem.
Killing the rabbit is one thing.
Turning it into food? That’s a different matter altogether.
I kneel by the dead rabbit and stare at it longer than I should. Its fur is still warm. One glassy eye stares blankly at the ground.
It feels wrong to hunt here in Ekios, where they don’t consume animal products.
My knife feels too large in my hand.
I have watched Dad skinning game before. Plenty of times. That doesn’t mean I know how to do it myself, without making a complete mess.
There’s no one here to do it for me.
No one here at all.
I swallow hard and get to work.
It’s ugly.
My first cut is too shallow. The second too deep. But I grit my teeth and keep going.
By the end, I’m splattered in blood, swearing under my breath, and more than half convinced I’ve ruined the whole carcass.
I set it aside, clean my blade in the dirt, and face my second problem.
The fire.
I stare at the carcass, then at the cold ground, and let out a humorless breath.
No flint. No steel. No Jax.
Fine. I can do this.
First I gather tinder, dry grass from beneath the overhang, brittle bark peeled from the inside of a dead branch, a fistful of pine needles.
Then, I search for wood dry enough to catch, splitting a thin piece with my knife until I have a small board and a spindle no thicker than my thumb.
I loop my belt around the spindle and brace the board against the ground. By the time I start sawing the spindle back and forth, my shoulders are already aching from the hunt.
