Kale stood over the steaming carcass of the boar, his breath rising in soft clouds through the cold air. Across from him, Bren watched with quiet respect in his eyes. Snow had started to fall again, dusting the ground in light patches. The forest was still except for the occasional creak of frozen branches.
Finally, Kale broke the silence. "So. Are you here to cause trouble? To make me your prisoner or turn me in?"
Bren raised both hands, palms open. His voice was calm. "No. I'm just here to hunt. You keep this one. It's yours. I'm after another. A bigger one."
Kale frowned. "How big?"
"Biggest I've seen in years," Bren said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "An alpha. These Ironhides usually travel in groups, but this one's alone. As tall as a man. Maybe taller up close. Meaner too, judging by the tracks it left behind."
Kale didn't relax. His fingers tightened slightly on the spear. Working with someone else felt like a risk he wasn't ready for.
"I'll think about it," Kale muttered, glancing toward the trees behind Bren, scanning for movement.
Bren nodded like he expected that answer. Then his tone shifted—quieter, more serious. "Listen, kid. If you do come tomorrow, be careful. Merchants have been abducting kids lately. Quick cash, they say. Some sell them off to nobles in the far north. If they find out you're a Seeker…" He paused and shook his head. "You're worth more than meat and fur to them."
Kale stiffened. The word Seeker felt heavier now that someone else used it out loud. Or at least, suspected him of being one.
"They won't get me," Kale said firmly, though doubt flickered beneath his words.
Bren studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Good. Meet me here tomorrow morning if you decide to join. We'll plan our approach. And we'll split the spoils if the hunt works out." He adjusted the straps on his satchel and took a step back. "Think fast. That thing isn't going to wait forever."
Then he was gone, disappearing into the woods with steady steps and no second glance.
•---•
Kale stayed in the clearing for a while longer. His arm throbbed where the boar had bitten him, but the fire magic had sealed the wound well enough.
He exhaled slowly and pulled his jacket tighter against the wind. "What if it's a trap?" he whispered under his breath.
The thought gnawed at him all the way back to the river. Meeting Bren at the same spot felt risky. What if merchants were already watching? What if they ambushed him there instead of a hunter?
Still, the offer was tempting. One good hunt meant weeks of warmth and food without chasing smaller game through snow and wind.
At the riverbank, Kale set to work skinning the boar. The icy water numbed his fingers quickly, but he worked carefully. Steam rose from the body as he sliced through sinew and muscle with practiced ease. He wrapped the best cuts in dry leaves and packed the hide securely. The tusks came free clean and strong. He cleaned them gently before placing them inside his sack. They were valuable. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Just like he was.
By the time he returned to his shack, twilight had settled across the forest. Shadows stretched long through the trees, and the wind howled softly through the gaps in the wooden walls. Inside, he lit a flame with a simple motion. Fire curled above his palm like an old friend.
He cooked quietly, turning the roasted meat over the flames until its scent filled the cramped space. But even as he ate, his thoughts kept circling back to Bren's offer.
If he joined the hunt, he wouldn't have to worry about food for weeks.
If he failed, he might lose more than just the prey.
Kale leaned back against the wall, staring at the fire dancing in the hearth—or what passed for one. He flexed his fingers, conjuring a small ball of flame again. It hovered obediently, casting soft light across his face.
He was changing.
Growing stronger.
And maybe he didn't have to survive winter alone anymore.
But trust didn't come easy. Not for someone like him.
"Nope," he whispered to himself, blowing out the flame. "Not yet."
Tomorrow, he'd decide.