The Hunter's Daughter [Paused]

Chapter One

Dezzery bit her lip as she looked into those pleading old eyes of the doe. It still attempted to kick, weakly now. Minding the sharp hooves, Dezzery carefully straddled the doe, pinning her in place. She lifted her knife and slide her other hand beneath the animal's head. The doe continued her dying struggle with no avail.

"I'm sorry," the huntress said softly to the deer. "I'm sorry I didn't make it easier for you."

With a single stroke of her hunting knife, she put the doe to rest.

Dezzery watched a single golden leaf fall from one of the changing trees before dismounting the fresh carcass. Most of the forest still remained green, but autumn had clearly showed its arrival to her this morning the deeper she went into the woods. It had felt like walking through the season.

Turning her attention back to the task at hand, Dezzery cleared away a spot on the forest floor, exposing some damp dirt. She reached for a small pouch in the leather pocket of her belt. She carefully pulled out one of the many small bundles of herbs kept inside and placed it in the center of her circle of dirt. She retrieved a small metal box from her leather pocket and carefully opened the lid.

Inside were two small red crystals. Their edges were jagged and raw but each face of their uneven surface was as smooth as roughly cut obsidian. The large chips of fire stone were one of the few valuable items her family owned. They were given to her mother by a patient she served as a midwife for in the nearest coastal town just west Waldstadt, at the edge of the Oakenward Wood. The patient claimed her husband had traded for them from a merchant passing through to Arborstadt with exotic wares. The fire stones were supposed to be saved for emergencies or special occasion fires, but Dezzery swiped them on her way out of the cottage while everyone was still sleeping. She wanted to save time instead of using flint and figured no one would notice the absence of a small metal box if she returned it while everyone was still mostly groggy from sleep. Dezzery took the crystals out of their box. The sunlight shone through them, making the center of the crystals burn a deep orange and red. The young huntress took a moment to admire their beauty before she grasped each crystal firmly between her fingers. She struck them twice, like she would with flint, over the small bundle of herbs. Large sparks flew, causing a small flame on the second strike. The flame seemed to leap from the crystals to the herbs as if it were sentient. The herbs easily caught fire. Dezzery wished flint worked just a quick and powerfully.

She put the crystals away back in their box. She bent down and blew on the herbs, gently blowing out the flame but leaving smoldering ends to burn and smoke through the bundle. As she watched the smoke, making sure the bundle would continue to burn, she thought about her father had taught her when she had first gone hunting with him. He told her about the importance of respecting the animals they hunted. "A hunter's job is to give to the wild as much as he or she takes," he had told her. Every life taken, another had to be nurtured to keep the forest alive and able to provide. He showed her the herbs he carried to burn in gratitude for each life they had took and to keep peace with the forest folk who kept watch over the wilderness surrounding their home. On their walk home, he had shown her what plants to leave alone for certain animals and insects as their main food source when other food was not yet available. He had also shown her how to properly take down their traps to not harm any animals they were not intended for.

"You have to know how to take care and nurture things before you learn how to take a life. Death is a cycle in life, but you must take care of the living parts of life first," he had told her. He did not let her fire a bow until he knew she understood how to care for the wilderness they depended on.

Content with the smoking bundle, Dezzery quietly spoke some words of gratitude to forest folk and the doe. Though she had though she had seen glimpses before, Dezzery had never actually seen any of the forest folk. She had heard stories about them, like all the residents in her village, but she was not sure if they were full beings of flesh and bone like her or if they were merely spirits who could manifest solid bodies. Either way, she asked them for successful hunts in the coming cold months to last through the winter. When she was finished, she set to work tying up the doe to bring back home more easily.

Dezzery found herself so focused in her knotwork, she startled easily when she heard a loud pop nearby. Her head shot up, looking around her for the source of the sound. It came again, reminding her of a crackle from a fire. She turned her attention to where the small bundle still smoldered. Smoke still rose steadily from the herbs, but they were also sparking. Dezzery has seen pine needles pop in a fire before, but her bundle did not contain any of the sweet-smelling needles as they continued to produce small sparks of flame. Perhaps a small chunk of a fire stone had chipped off and fallen into the bundle without her noticing?

Dezzery finished her last knot, letting the doe's bound hind legs drop to the forest floor. Getting down on her hands and needs, she watched the bundle with concerned curiosity. She looked at the area around the herbs for any deep orange glow of a piece of fire stone. All she saw was damp dirt and tiny broken bits of dried plants. When her nose was just inches away, the herbs burst into a small fire with a loud pop.

"What in the gods?!" she jumped back, landing on her behind. The flames continued to spark and dance, creeping towards the fallen leaves outside her little circle of dirt. Frantically, Dezzery reached for her waterskin. She unscrewed it as quickly as she could with shaking fingers. As she reached out to pour some of her water, the fire began popping wildly again. She held her hand back in caution as she watched the flames dance with each pop. The seemed to switch between the usual golden color of fire to a dark blue color. Dezzery thought it was a trick of her mind until the last crackling pop where the flames consistently stayed the odd dark blue and black color. The edges of the flame that licked up from the main source were the deepest purple she had ever seen. The dark fire seemed to suck the light from around it, like a dark night brought to life in a dancing flame. Dezzery watched as the fire taunted her while the small flames flickers to and fro. The longer she stared at the endless dark in its center, the more she could swear the woods darkened around her from the corners of her vision. , but the darkness she thought she saw creeping in from the corners of her vison disappeared. The world suddenly looked brighter to her, as light as it should be at this time of the morning.

Odd, she thought. Was this what happened if a forest folk accepted a burnt offering? She had never experienced such a thing before. Had never heard about anything similar either from her father or any of the other hunters and foragers in the village. Perhaps she was the first to witness an offering being accepted? Or was this a result of her using the borrowed fire crystals she had stolen from her mother's apothecary cabinet? She had used the chips of fire stone once or twice before for her smoke offerings to the forest folk as a shortcut. Maybe they were finally fed up with her using temporary thievery to speed up the process?
Whatever the reason for the odd fire, the silence in the wood felt very wrong to her. It felt very much like the quiet moments before a bad storm where all the animals flee to a safer place. The flame could not have been normal behavior of an accepted offering if the animals had gone quiet and the wind stilled. Perhaps her father knew something about this? Or perhaps the herbs were crossed with some of her mother's medicinal herbs on accident, causing the odd reaction. But she could not ask either of them for input without confessing she had taken the fire stones incase that was also the cause of the strange phenomenon.
The young huntress gave the now wet and crumbled herb bundle a gentle poke with the toe of her boot. Content that the hissing remains of the herbs would stay unlit, Dezzery hauled the doe up over her shoulders. She headed back towards her family's cottage at the edge of the village of Waldstadt.

Though the sound of birds and leaves rustling in the breeze returned on her trek back home, Dezzery could swear she heard a faint small, high-pitched scream coming from where the herbs' remains had finally fully gone out.