Renni Ashfire's Arc

Chapter 8 of 12

Renni walked back to her camp under a thin moon. She had built her shelter low and tight, twigs lashed close, leaves layered thick so no shape inside would show clear from the trees. The small fire burned at its mouth. Around it she had strung cord between trunks at boot height, with bells tied at every knot. If anything crossed that line in the dark, she would hear it. She sat with her back to the shelter and the blade across her knees. She did not sleep. She meant not to. But the long walk and the cold blood at the post had drained her, and somewhere past the deepest hour her eyes closed against her will. She woke to silence. No bells. That was wrong. She came up slow, blade first, and saw it at the edge of the firelight. A rabbit. White fur, throat opened clean, laid on the dirt just inside her cord. The bells had not rung. Whatever set it there had stepped over her line without touching a single string. Renni crouched and looked at the small body. The cut was neat. The blood was still wet. Around the rabbit the dirt held one print, pressed deep, twice the size of her boot. It had stood here. It had watched her sleep. It had left her food. She did not touch the offering. She rose and faced the dark trees and understood what the cleaned blade on her grave had only hinted at. The beast was not stalking her now. It was feeding her. She was being kept. Renni kicked dirt over the fire, cut the bell cord down, and shouldered her pack before dawn. She would not be kept.