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Chapter 5 – The Road to the Capital
Morning seeped into the camp like a reluctant guest, pale and quiet. The world was damp with dew, and smoke from last night's fire clung to the air in ghostly ribbons. Sara's wrists throbbed where the ropes had dug in overnight, her tail twitching restlessly against the dirt.
Her captors stirred with military precision. Tents were pulled down and folded, gear strapped, weapons checked and rechecked. Not one of them so much as glanced at her without suspicion. She was the intruder, the wild card—the possible monster they had dragged into their midst.
Except one.
Kael was the first to approach, a strip of dried meat awkwardly held in his palm.
"Eat," he said, offering it stiffly. "You'll need strength for the march."
Sara arched a brow, leaning back against the post she'd been tied to. "Wow. A peace offering. Should I kneel, or is a curtsy enough?"
He didn't rise to the bait. His eyes, hazel and earnest, flicked down to her wrists where the ropes had cut red marks into her skin. His jaw tightened.
"Don't joke. You might hurt yourself," he said softly.
Sara smirked. "I'm flattered. Someone cares whether I survive the morning march."
Kael shifted uncomfortably, clearly unused to banter. He ran a hand through his messy brown hair. "You really are… difficult."
"And you're really… still staring at me like I'm going to explode," she shot back. "Relax. I don't bite—well, not unless provoked."
A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth almost became a smile, but he turned away before it could form. The boy couldn't have been more than eighteen, maybe nineteen at most, but there was something about him—an edge of seriousness—that kept him from blending in with the other young hunters.
The rest of the camp bustled around them, treating Sara as nothing more than a dangerous package. Yet Kael lingered, shifting his weight, until he finally muttered, almost to himself:
"You're… not a Vexin. Are you?"
Sara froze mid-grin.
"Oh, me? No. Totally normal. Regular human. Ordinary. Boring. Absolutely not some fluff-tailed monster that can sneak into your brain."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to lie."
Her tail lashed in irritation. "Who said I was lying? Maybe I'm… creatively exaggerating. Adds flavor to the morning march."
He shook his head, but that hint of a smile tugged at his lips again. "You're impossible."
Sara smirked wider, letting the rope bite into her wrists. Somehow, despite the suspicion and danger, she felt… less alone. Kael's quiet defiance of the group's judgment was a thread of warmth she could hold onto.
---
The hunters set off soon after, single-file through the forest. Sara was wedged between the scarred leader—Mr. Bow-and-Brood—and two burly escorts. The older man's back was ramrod straight, every line of him taut with command. He didn't look at her, but she could feel his awareness like a drawn bowstring.
Kael kept pace nearby, a half-step closer than necessary.
"You talk too much," he muttered under his breath as they marched.
"And you listen too much," she countered with a grin. "We balance each other."
He rolled his eyes, but didn't retort.
---
The forest was alive with sound—branches creaking under the weight of damp, birds darting through the canopy, the occasional distant howl that made every hunter stiffen. Sara tried to keep her breathing steady, but her left eye throbbed again, light threatening to bleed through her lashes.
Not now. Please, not now.
Still, snippets flashed at the edge of her mind. A dying scream. Flames consuming a cottage. Hunters dragging bodies from wreckage. Shadows with teeth.
She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to blink it away.
Kael must have noticed the way her shoulders hunched, because he leaned slightly closer. "Don't push yourself," he whispered.
"I'm not fragile," she hissed back, though her tail betrayed her agitation with a sharp lash. "I'm… dramatic. Very, very dramatic."
Kael smirked faintly. "Right. Dramatic."
---
By midday, the group paused at a river crossing. The hunters moved efficiently, tying ropes across the current for support while others filled canteens. Sara was sat on a rock, her bindings loosened just enough for her to stretch her legs.
She looked around the clearing. Everything about the hunters screamed discipline—well-worn routines, practiced motions, and eyes that flicked back to her every few seconds. Suspicion wrapped around her tighter than any rope.
Except Kael, who handed her a flask of water without meeting her gaze.
She accepted it, tipping her head back to drink. Then she smirked at him over the rim. "You know, you could just untie me and we could do this as equals. March side by side, swap survival tips, maybe sing a song or two."
Kael's jaw twitched, but his eyes betrayed the flicker of amusement he tried to smother. "You're trying to annoy me."
"I call it charm," she replied.
He sighed, looking away. "Don't get used to this. You're still tied up, and my hands are full."
"Ah," she said, handing the flask back, "but a little kindness goes a long way. And I'm worth it."
For the briefest moment, Kael's lips curved into a smile before he turned sharply away, muttering something under his breath. Sara tucked that moment into her chest like a stolen treasure.
---
They pressed on, the road winding endlessly beneath the trees. Sara's wrists burned, her shoulders ached, and yet she kept her grin firmly in place. The scarred leader occasionally glanced back at her, expression unreadable. The wiry hunter with pockmarked skin spat near her feet whenever he passed. And the women—stern, broad-shouldered, eyes sharp as knives—watched her like hawks.
Only Kael broke the rhythm, occasionally asking small, quiet things when the others weren't listening.
"Where are you from?"
Sara shrugged. "A place you wouldn't believe."
"Do you have family there?"
"Do wolves count?"
Kael frowned, clearly unconvinced by her evasions, but he didn't press.
The rest of the hunters didn't speak to her at all. Not directly. She was less than human in their eyes, and they made sure she felt it.
---
By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, they made camp in a clearing. Fires were built, meat skewered, weapons propped for easy access. Sara was tied to a stake again, but this time near enough the fire to feel its heat.
Children peeked out from behind tents, wide-eyed, before being shooed away. Whispers carried through the camp like smoke.
Monster. Vexin. Dangerous.
Sara stretched her legs out, feigning ease. "Wow. Another cozy evening in scenic rope-town. Love the rustic murder-cabin vibes. Really warms a girl's heart."
No one answered.
No one except Kael, who crouched a short distance away, sharpening his blade. His eyes flicked up briefly, and Sara grinned at him.
"What's the matter, woodsman? Don't want to sit too close in case I sprout fangs and bite?"
Kael didn't look up. "You talk too much."
"And you keep saying that," she replied sweetly. "Which means you keep listening. Which means you like it."
His lips twitched, but he kept his focus on the blade.
Sara leaned back against the stake, her grin softening just slightly. "Careful, Kael. If you keep being nice to me, your boss will revoke your brooding license."
This time, Kael actually chuckled, low and quiet, before catching himself. He sheathed his knife quickly, schooling his features back to neutrality.
But Sara saw it. And for a heartbeat, the ropes around her wrists didn't feel quite so heavy.
---
The night deepened. Wolves howled in the distance. The fire cracked, sparks drifting upward like fireflies.
Sara let her head fall back against the post, her eye burning faintly as visions tugged at the edges of her mind again. Shadows. Screams. The scarred leader loosing an arrow into something monstrous.
She clenched her fists. Not now. Don't slip.
The boy's words from earlier whispered through her mind.
If you really aren't a Vexin… prove it.
Sara closed her eyes, her grin fading.
Prove I'm not a monster, huh?
If only I knew how.
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AN:
Kael is really trying hard to keep that "serious hunter" vibe, but Sara just won't stop poking at him 😂. Do you think she's winning him over already, or is Kael secretly enjoying the banter more than he admits?
Okay, riddle time !
I stand tall, but I'm not alive. I cast shade, but I'm not the night. What am I? (I won't give the answer even though I really want to—drop your guesses in the comments and let's see who's sharp 👀).
✨ Teaser for Chapter 6: The road to the capital gets a whole lot rougher… and not everyone in the hunting party will make it through the night.