Vozz Stabtoe's Arc

Chapter 2 of 8

Vozz studied the Hunter board every morning for three days, memorizing names and mission types. The Hunters needed trackers, scouts, and fighters—but none of the postings mentioned demolition work. She realized her first mistake: she'd been practicing alone, but the Hunters worked in teams. If she wanted their respect, she needed to understand how they operated. She watched them return from missions, noting how they moved together, how they checked their gear, how they reported back at the lodge. On the fourth day, she made her decision. She would approach them directly and ask what skills they needed most. No more waiting for the perfect mission to appear. But first, she needed to get better with explosives. Her courtyard tests had gone well, but she knew there was more to learn. She asked around the market until someone pointed her toward a ramshackle structure on the edge of town. Wooden planks were nailed together in odd patterns, and a thatched roof sagged over the top. It looked like it might collapse at any moment. Inside, the workshop smelled like sulfur and burnt wood. Benches lined the walls, covered with tools and components she'd never seen before. This was where she could learn to craft real charges, not just the simple ones she'd been making. She spent the afternoon watching, listening, and testing different mixtures under careful instruction. By evening, her fingers were stained black and her head buzzed with new knowledge. She could make charges that burned hotter, exploded cleaner, and timed more precisely. When she left the workshop, the sun was setting behind the trees. She had the skills now. Tomorrow she'd talk to the Hunters and show them what she could do. The next morning, Vozz walked straight to the lodge. Her vest pockets held three perfectly crafted charges, each one smaller and cleaner than anything she'd made before. She pushed through the wooden doors and found a Hunter checking supplies near a metal brazier decorated with forest designs. The flames inside it cast dancing shadows across the floor. Vozz cleared her throat. The Hunter looked up. She pulled out one of her charges and held it steady. "I can handle demolition work," she said. "Precision blasting. Timed explosives. Whatever you need." The Hunter studied the charge in her hand, then looked at her face. He didn't laugh or wave her away. Instead, he nodded toward the brazier. "Show me how you'd time a fuse for a controlled burn." Vozz stepped forward, her heart hammering. This was her chance. She wouldn't waste it. She measured out a length of fuse and held it near the flames. The Hunter crossed his arms and watched. She cut the cord at the exact point where it would burn for thirty seconds—long enough to get clear, short enough to stay controlled. The fuse caught and hissed. She dropped it on the stone floor away from the supplies. They both counted silently. At twenty-nine seconds, the fuse sputtered out right where she'd calculated. The Hunter nodded once. "We've got mixing stations outside for field prep," he said. "Cauldrons and containers. If you can handle those without blowing yourself up, come back at dawn. We've got a job that needs your skills." Vozz's ears twitched forward. She'd done it. She had her first real step toward the team.