Hunt Race

She walked ahead without another word.

Kael followed several steps behind.

Only minutes ago, she'd had a knife pressed against his neck.

Now they were walking the same trail as though nothing had happened.

Kael raised a hand to his neck.

His fingers brushed against the small cut.

Still fresh.

A faint sting lingered.

...

His gaze drifted forward.

For the first time...

He actually looked at her.

She wasn't much taller than him.

Long raven-black hair flowed freely behind her, dancing gently with every breeze that slipped through the forest.

The leather coat she wore fit perfectly, neither loose nor tight, designed for movement rather than appearance.

Her boots landed almost silently against the earth.

Even dry leaves barely made a sound beneath her feet.

She moved with the quiet confidence of someone who expected danger at every turn.

Her shoulders remained relaxed, yet every step looked measured.

Kael couldn't find a single opening.

If he attacked now...

She would counter before he even reached her.

The bow resting across her back wasn't new.

It was experienced.

The scratches carved into its limbs spoke of countless hunts.

Below it hung a short sword.

Three throwing knives rested neatly along her belt.

Another smaller blade sat behind her waist.

Even her boots concealed a tiny sheath.

Kael frowned.

How many weapons does one person need?

His eyes lingered a little longer.

"...What are you looking at?"

She never turned around.

She simply kept walking.

Kael blinked.

"Can you see behind your head too?"

"No."

"Then how did you—"

"I heard you."

"My footsteps?"

"They changed."

Kael frowned.

"I don't get it."

"They slowed."

She stepped over an exposed root without breaking stride.

"People only slow down when they're looking at something."

The answer came so naturally that Kael almost laughed.

His eyes wandered over the collection of weapons again.

"...Why so many weapons?"

This time...

She looked back.

Only for a second.

"...Are you a rookie?"

Kael scratched his cheek.

"...Yeah."

One eyebrow lifted slightly.

"...You moved quite fast for a rookie."

"I've had a few training sessions."

She faced forward again.

"You can never be too prepared for a hunt."

Her fingers brushed lightly against one of the throwing knives.

"This..."

"...is my style."

"I feel safer this way."

Kael counted them again.

Bow.

Sword.

Four knives.

Hidden sheath.

"...Wouldn't they slow you down?"

She let out a quiet breath.

"I can see..."

"...you haven't had enough training."

Kael frowned.

"What does training have to do with carrying half a weapon shop?"

For the first time...

A faint smile touched her lips.

She glanced at the sword hanging from his waist.

"A hunter should know his limits."

Her eyes returned to the trail ahead.

"Master that one first..."

"...before you start collecting the rest."

Kael looked down at his sword.

"I only have one."

"If that's all you have..."

"...make sure nobody ever takes it from you."

Kael unconsciously tightened his grip around the hilt.

The words stayed with him.

After another stretch of silence, he spoke again.

"...You really trust all those weapons?"

She looked ahead.

"I trust myself."

"...That's enough"

"It is?

She answered without hesitation.

"If I lose my bow..."

"My sword is enough."

"If I lose my sword..."

"My knives are enough."

"And if I lose those..."

She finally looked back.

Her amber eyes met his.

"I still have my hands."

Kael stared at her.

"...You're serious."

She faced forward again.

The forest grew quiet once more.

Only birds called from somewhere high above.

A squirrel darted across the trail.

The wind carried the scent of damp earth.

Kael was about to ask another question.

She suddenly stopped.

Instantly.

Every trace of casualness vanished.

The relaxed hunter disappeared.

In her place stood the woman who had pinned him against a tree without breaking a sweat.

Her hand reached over her shoulder.

The bow was already in her grasp.

An arrow rested against the string.

She didn't draw it.

Not yet.

Her eyes remained fixed on the forest ahead.

The birds...

Had stopped singing.

The breeze itself seemed to disappear.

Kael felt it too.

Something wasn't right.

Very slowly...

His hand moved toward his sword.

"...Don't."

Kael froze.

A heartbeat later—

Crack.

A branch snapped somewhere deep within the trees.

Then another.

Then another.

She slowly drew the bowstring.

"...Eight."

Kael frowned.

"What?"

Her eyes never left the shadows ahead.

"...There are eight of them."

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