The Lady of the Valley

TLotV Chapter 7

7.

There were different types of hunting Derek enjoyed. Hunting was like any other skill, even for an apex predator. Something about it was satisfying, simple. He caught his prey or he didn't. It was honest, and easy. No guilt or complicated knot of emotions.

Tonight he hunted deer. The flavor was below human on his mental list of favorites. Deer mostly tasted the same; stags musky and slightly bitter, but stronger, does sweeter, but so often laced with terror. The challenge with deer was different because humans could be charmed, some even were willing to trade blood for adventure and excitement. Deer one had to run down and take with speed and strength. Not to mention avoiding sharp hooves with hundreds of pounds of force behind them.

Once, in a self destructive challenge on a particularly suicidal night, he'd hunted a bear. He was surprised those wounds had healed without a scar.

A deer hunt, he told himself, as he slunk as quietly as he could through the wooded shadows, reminded him that he could survive even outside the miserable embrace of humanity, if he wished. Even with a vampire's vision the woods were dark. The nearest building was a tired old tobacco barn two miles away where he'd hidden his car. He didn't even know where the landowner's house was, if there even was a landowner.

He heard people describe city lights at night like a blanket of fallen stars. But they were wrong. The stars out here managed to both fill the sky and illuminate nothing. Darkness still pooled in the gullies and beneath the heavy-laden trees. In the city he could stalk silently through the crowds. Here he navigated well enough to startle a fox, also on the hunt, and a feral tom cat prowling for females. The scents were thick, curling trails through the thickets. And completely different from city smells.

He found the scent marker of a buck, and nearly buried beneath it, a doe. That appealed to him more. The promise of that delicate flavor urged him to move faster. The buck scent veered off after a half mile or so, chasing a rival by Derek's guess. The doe wander on, approaching the stale-water smell of a creek. Derek cleared it with a leap and slowed his pace. Beyond the trees cover broke and moonlight silvered a pasture. He approached it slowly.

Deer liked grazing with other herd animals. Which species they were could complicate things. Like bulls. He'd probably fare better with another bear. But the field beyond was overgrown, its posts barely standing and wire rusted, snapped and curled back on itself in several places.

When he spotted the doe Derek's mind cleared. There were no Ellies, no upset Astrid, no drunk Ari, sadly remaining unbitten. There was just the careful dance of predator and prey, the quest to get as close as possible to shorten the chase, every saved step a chance to win.

An owl swooped overhead and Derek ran. He launched himself, collided with warm, soft muscle and used his weight on the doe's front half to pull her down. The doe flailed, but his teeth found her throat, the veins bigger and longer than a human throat. Trying to hold and not tear while the doe fought was the ultimate challenge, next to feeling the hot rush of blood and not wanting to lose himself in it.

After a few long moments the doe froze, fight of flight giving easy to the neural impulse to freeze and hope the predator lost interest. Derek rolled his head back. There was no point in killing her. He'd had enough.

The thought of a glassy-eyed human corpse with his throat torn out resurfaced in Derek's mind and the zen of the hunt burst. With a disappointed huff, he let the doe go.

He definitely needed to intervene if his new hometown had a preternatural predator lurking about. At least until he'd had time to establish himself as a boring university student.