---
Chapter 4 – Bound by Suspicion
Sara's wrists were on fire.
Not literally, though she had half a mind to believe this world would eventually throw spontaneous combustion at her just for the drama of it. No, this was the ordinary kind of burning—the coarse ropes biting into her skin as two beefy hunters yanked her along like she was a sack of potatoes with legs. Her ankles kept catching on tree roots, and every stumble earned her another rough tug forward.
Her tail—fluffy, twitching, very real—swished in irritation behind her. She had a sneaking suspicion they'd tied her up extra tight just to stop her from scratching them with it.
"I'm just saying," she huffed, nearly tripping on a rock, "this is a terrible way to thank someone who literally stopped you from being wolf chow."
"Shut it," growled one of the hunters, the one with arms the size of tree trunks.
"Oh, eloquent," Sara shot back, flashing him a grin. "What's next? You going to grunt and beat your chest? Very big caveman energy."
A couple of the younger hunters chuckled, only to snap to rigid silence when the scarred man at the front gave them a death glare.
Sara eyed him—Mr. Bow-and-Brood. Dark hair tied back, armor scuffed but well-kept, posture stiff like someone carved him out of wood and forgot to sand down the edges. A scar ran from his temple across his cheek, pulling at his mouth whenever he spoke.
"Hey, Scarface," she called out, "you've been glaring at me since the wolves showed up. Did I run over your dog in a past life or something?"
His jaw tightened, but he didn't look back. "Vexin don't save humans. They slaughter them."
Sara blinked. "Uh, Vexin? Yeah, people keep throwing that word around like it's the weather report. Care to enlighten me before you string me up?"
Another hunter—a wiry man with pockmarked skin—snorted and spat at the ground beside her. "Beastkin who sold their souls to the Abyss. Cursed things. Monsters in human skin."
Sara stumbled again, her stomach dropping. Her bangs shifted with the motion, and for a second she felt it—her left eye pulsing faintly, light trying to bleed through.
Oh crap.
She ducked her head quickly, tail curling around her leg. "Right. Monsters. Totally. And you think I'm one because… what? Because I'm cute and fluffy?"
The younger hunter who'd laughed earlier hesitated, like he almost wanted to defend her, but the leader's presence shut him down before he could speak.
The group marched on in tense silence, save for Sara's muttering.
---
They reached the hunters' camp by nightfall.
It wasn't much, but compared to the endless dark forest it felt like civilization: hide tents pitched in neat rows, a central fire blazing high, racks of venison drying near sharpened wooden stakes that marked the perimeter. Smoke curled upward into the night sky, carrying the scent of roasting meat.
Children peeked out from behind tents, eyes wide, before being shooed back inside by anxious women. Men sharpening weapons paused mid-motion to stare. Every pair of eyes tracked Sara, suspicion hanging over the camp like a storm cloud.
She was shoved down near the fire, the ropes digging deeper into her wrists. She landed with a wince and a yelp.
"Wow," she drawled, wriggling to get comfortable. "Cozy place. Very rustic murder-cabin aesthetic. Love what you've done with the décor."
The scarred leader crouched in front of her, gaze sharp as an arrowhead. "Why were you in the forest?"
Sara leaned back, flashing a smirk. "Sightseeing. Big fan of almost dying to oversized wolves. Really gets the cardio going."
"Answer properly."
"Oh, come on. What do you want me to say? 'Sorry, boss, I was just wandering around your cursed murder forest because Google Maps failed me'? I don't even know where here is!"
One of the women—broad-shouldered, arms crossed—snorted. "She's lying. Vexin always play dumb."
Sara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Because pretending not to know where I am while tied up in your murder camp is a fantastic survival strategy."
The leader didn't react, but his silence carried more weight than yelling ever could.
He stared. She stared back.
Finally, he said, "Your eye."
Sara froze. "What about it?"
"It glowed," one of the hunters muttered. "During the fight. I saw it."
Her stomach dropped. Crap. Crap, crap, crap.
"Glow?" Sara laughed nervously. "Oh, yeah. That's just, uh, a new brand of eyeliner. Real cutting edge. Makes your enemies think you're possessed, super trendy."
The younger hunter—the nervous one—shifted like he wanted to intervene, but again stayed quiet.
---
The interrogation dragged on. Questions about her origin, her abilities, her purpose in the forest. Sara parried every one with sarcasm, exaggerations, or ridiculous half-truths.
But the longer she talked, the hotter her left eye burned. Her powers leaked without her consent, and images flickered at the edge of her mind.
A dying scream.
Flames consuming a cottage.
The scarred leader, bow drawn, loosing an arrow into something huge and shadowy.
Sara clenched her teeth, struggling not to flinch.
Stop it. I don't want this. Don't show me this.
But the memories weren't hers—they belonged to the hunters. Her powers were dipping into their fears and their pasts, uninvited.
If she slipped up, if she mentioned something she shouldn't know, they'd brand her a Vexin for sure.
---
Eventually, the leader straightened. "Enough. We'll take her to the capital. Let the magistrates decide."
Sara perked up despite herself. Capital. Civilization. Answers.
Then the rest hit her. Trials. Judges. Execution, if they decided she really was what they feared.
"Oh, fantastic," she muttered. "Love a good field trip. Should I start practicing my juggling for the crowd? Maybe a little dance number?"
The older hunter with streaks of gray in his beard grunted. "You joke too much for a monster."
Sara tilted her head. "Or maybe I joke because I'm not one. Ever think of that?"
The gray-beard didn't answer.
But the younger hunter—the boy who couldn't be much older than eighteen—hesitated near her. He crouched down, voice low so the others wouldn't hear.
"If you really aren't a Vexin," he whispered, "prove it. Before we reach the city."
Sara blinked at him. The first kindness she'd been shown all night.
She smirked faintly, masking the unease in her chest. "Careful, kid. If you keep being nice to me, your boss will revoke your brooding license."
His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but he stood quickly and moved away.
Sara leaned back against the post she was tied to, tail curling around her legs. The firelight flickered across her face, catching in her faintly glowing eye.
Her grin slipped.
Prove I'm not a monster, huh?
If only I knew how.
---
The fire crackled, the hunters whispered among themselves, and the night crept deeper. Sara closed her eyes, listening to the forest beyond the stakes.
Somewhere out there, wolves howled.
And the rope around her wrists burned tighter.
---