I slung the satchel over my shoulder, feeling the heft of it against my back. “See you soon, Ehuna.”
"Until then," she said.
The night air nipped at my cheeks as I emerged from our camp, the dark velvet sky shining with silver pinpricks of starlight. Somewhere above, Tannin's predator bird surely circled, its keen eyes searching for prey.
"Come and find me," I whispered, a challenge to the wind that carried my words away into the night.
Taking a deep breath, I set off down the hill, armed with my grief and fueled by a determination that burned hotter than the fiercest forge.
"Legacy," I whispered, her name an incantation. "For you, I will end this."
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
At sunrise the next morning, the forest hummed with a sort of tense expectancy, as if it shared in my mission's urgency. Leaves whispered secrets to the wind, rustling about while I prowled through the underbrush, ever watchful for the right creature to serve as my unwitting ally.
"Come on," I muttered under my breath, darting my eyes from shadow to shadow. "Where are you, little bait?"
Ehuna would have my hide for being so flippant about my dangerous plan for the giant bird. But I didn’t want it to see me and fly back to Tannin with the news that I was still alive and on the move. Not if I wanted to catch him by surprise.
A crack of a twig had me freezing mid-step, my ears pricked. A flicker of movement caught my eye—a small deer, its coat dappled with patches of sunlight that filtered through the canopy.
I crouched low, moving with a predator's grace, closing the distance between us. My heart thrummed in my chest, each beat a drumroll leading to the moment of action.
Legacy's blue eyes and fiery hair flashed in my mind, stoking the embers of determination within me. Every step forward was in honor of her memory.
"Sorry, friend," I breathed out as I drew closer to the deer.
With a swift motion honed by countless hours of training and more than a few scuffles, I struck with my dagger across its neck. The deer collapsed, a clean kill. No suffering—a small mercy. Its potent lifeblood soaked into the forest floor, releasing a pungent aroma sure to tantalize even the most discerning of “little birds” and lure the beast from the sky.
It was a strange thing to feel both triumph and regret over such a necessary act.
I dragged the deer behind me and dropped it in the center of a clearing, my muscles protesting, and got to work. Skinning it wasn't glamorous, but I'd learned long ago that survival often meant getting your hands dirty.
When I was an orphan living on the streets, I’d had to quickly learn to cook rats to survive. My first time hadn’t worked out. My second time didn’t either.
The third time, I came prepared with a rusty bucket. I named the rat Dinner. I never got around to eating it, though.
I’d run off with it to a secret spot behind an old shack where the walls shielded me from the wind. I’d watched the other orphans enough times to sort of know what to do next. My hands shaking from hunger, I’d gathered some twigs to start a fire with my flint, skinned the rat with my only knife, and skewered the rat on a metal rod I’d scavenged.
Just as the aroma of roasting rat began to fill the air, I realized Dinner and I weren’t alone. Another orphan had followed his nose straight to us, a burly kid with cheeks perpetually red from the cold and a mean streak as long as the river.
Without a word, he’d lunged forward and snatched the skewer. With tears streaking down my face, I watched helplessly as my hard-earned dinner became a prize for someone else.
My stomach had growled so loudly, mocking me for my failure.
Catching and cooking a rat had seemed like the hardest part. I’d had lots of practice since then keeping my Dinners for myself.
But today, I’d gladly share it with the giant bird.
I laid the deer hide aside, set up a spit over a hastily built fire, and skewered the carcass with a stick I’d sharpened on the way here while my plan had taken root.
Striking flint to steel, I coaxed flames to life, watching them catch with satisfaction. I adjusted the spit, ensuring the deer would cook evenly, releasing a plume of savory smoke into the sky. It twirled upward, a fragrant beacon that I hoped would prove irresistible.
"Come and get it, feathered fiend," I said, stepping back to admire my handiwork.
The scent of roasting meat soon filled the air, rich and inviting.
