After finishing her meal, Freyja made her way straight to the castle gates. She wore the same pristine white hunting garb, though this time she carried a cross-hilted iron sword, a shortbow, and a quiver of arrows at her side.
Two guards in half-armor, broad-shouldered and stalwart, stood dutifully behind her.
Freyja cast a measured glance over the woodland that stretched around the keep, as if weighing her destination. The forests that bordered the estate were vast; even along the fringes, there were grounds known for yielding rare game.
"My lady, where shall you hunt? Shall we prepare the carriage?" one of the guards asked cautiously.
Freyja shook her head."No need. I'll remain nearby, simply to practice—and perhaps take down something, if fortune allows."
Relief washed over the two men. In the past, whenever Freyja ventured out, she would insist on plunging deep into the heart of the forest, clamoring to confront its most formidable beasts. But those depths were treacherous, and neither her reckless temper nor their modest strength could guarantee safe return. Worse still, should the baron learn she had courted true danger, the consequences would be dire.
This time, however, she showed uncharacteristic restraint—much to their comfort.
Ignoring the guards' inward sighs of relief, Freyja strode toward the shaded path that led into the trees. The deeper she went, the taller and denser the forest grew; now and then, a small creature darted through the grass at her passing.
Her pale leather boots sank into the thick layer of fallen leaves, each step sounding with a muted crunch.
After some ten minutes, one guard ventured forward and spoke with respectful urgency:"My lady, this is far enough. Beyond here, we cannot guarantee your safety."
"Very well—let it be here." Freyja's lips curved into the faintest smile.
The surrounding woods grew shadowed, the canopy thick enough to dim the light. Nearby, she noted a patch of scorched earth and scattered bones, signs that others had hunted here before.
Steadying her breath, Freyja drew the shortbow from her back, nocked an arrow, and pulled the string taut. With her current strength, the weapon bent easily, without strain.
At her smooth, practiced motion, the guards instinctively stepped behind her, careful not to obstruct her line of sight.
The afternoon forest was tranquil, hushed; the young huntress swept her gaze across the gloom, her sapphire eyes narrowing, pupils widening and contracting with the keen focus of a predator.
"Father once hunted a deer here," she murmured, "I wonder if fortune will smile on me the same."
One of the guards replied, "Deer are scarce along the outskirts, my lady. The baron himself only ever chanced upon one that strayed from its herd—such luck is rare indeed."
"That is a pity… I had hoped to bring him a surprise." Her voice carried a hint of wistfulness.
Yet even as she spoke, her fingers loosed the string.
Thwip!
A white-feathered shaft streaked through the air and struck the trunk of a distant tree with a sharp thock.
A high-pitched squeal followed. Both guards froze in astonishment.
"Come," Freyja said coolly, her gaze fixed ahead. "Let us see what I've struck."
One guard hurried forward and soon returned, holding a rabbit pierced through the leg by her arrow.
"A fine shot, my lady!"
Freyja merely nodded, eyes calm, betraying no surprise. Half a month of sword training had honed not only her blade but her reflexes and perception as well—and her flawless marksmanship was proof of her growing prowess.
Drawing the iron sword from her hip, she struck the rabbit swiftly with the hilt, silencing its cries. With a soft clap of her hands, she turned."Let us continue."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. She looked the same, yet something intangible about her had changed—her aura, her composure, her very presence.
Before their thoughts could settle, another arrow whistled through the air.
Thwip!Thock!
Freyja's lips curved faintly as she strode toward the brush, pushing aside the grass to reveal a white snake, its head skewered cleanly by her arrow. Though its body writhed in stubborn defiance of death, its end was inevitable.
"My lady's archery is remarkable," one guard exclaimed, collecting the twisting serpent and slipping it into his pouch.
"Acceptable," Freyja replied evenly, already nocking another arrow.
So the hunt continued. At first, her arrows found their targets with unnerving accuracy, but she gradually allowed her shots to falter—half striking true, half missing—lest her skill appear unnaturally sharp for a mere noble girl who had trained scarcely a fortnight.
Three hours later, both guards' pouches bulged with small game, and the sun's golden blaze began to dim. Shadows thickened in the forest, and Freyja, after circling once more with her bow, found little else of note.
Glancing back at her companions' haul, she smiled faintly, clapped her hands, and said, "That will suffice for today. Let us return."
"Yes, my lady."
The three retraced their path toward the keep.
Thus passed half a month, her days filled with study, swordplay, and the hunt. Word of her skill with the bow spread quickly through the castle, yet none were surprised when she returned each evening with her catch.
…
In the shadowed depths of the wood, sunlight fractured into scattered pools of gold upon the ground. A rustle of leaves betrayed the presence of a small herd of deer, grazing warily, ears twitching at every sound. The slightest noise might send them fleeing.
Thwip!
From a hidden thicket, a white-feathered arrow lanced forth.
Thock!
The shaft drove into the neck of a stag with brutal force, pinning it to a nearby tree. Its windpipe torn, it could only thrash violently, choking out ragged gasps.
At once, the rest of the herd bolted. Moments later, the brush stirred, and a golden-haired girl in a brown hunting coat emerged, shortbow in hand, two armored guards close behind.
"My lady grows ever more formidable," one guard murmured as he finished the stag with a stroke of his sword.
Freyja's eyes shone with quiet satisfaction."I had not thought a herd would wander here… it seems tonight's feast will be richer."
The stag's bulk, added to the game they already carried, strained their capacity.
"Shall we call it a day, my lady?" one of the guards asked.
But Freyja's hand brushed her quiver, still half full."You two return with the spoils. I'll remain and see if fortune grants me more."
The guards exchanged a knowing glance. After weeks of hunting at her side, they no longer feared for her safety in these outskirts. Bowing, they departed with their laden packs.
Only when their silhouettes vanished did Freyja smile. She raised her bow once more, eyes narrowing as her body tensed.
In a flash, the arrow flew.
Thock!Screee!
A distant shriek marked the strike.
This was no feigned clumsiness for the eyes of others—this was her true skill, honed through tireless effort.
With deliberate calm, she slung her bow and drew the iron sword she had yet to use. In a single casual motion, she slashed forward.
Swish.
A wrist-thick branch fell cleanly from the tree ahead, the cut smooth as glass.
Her speed now rivaled that of the baron himself. She knew his swordplay relied on strength, with swiftness merely its companion—but he was a knight, a master.
And she, Freyja, was no longer far behind.
"I… am no longer the weakling I once was."
She sheathed her blade with a satisfied smile and strode toward her fallen prey.