Desires of the Dark Forest
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Anne Onymous
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22
Hunt
The only sound in the hut was the clink of metal against metal, the hushed sliding of blades against leather, as I meticulously armed myself with one knife after another. Six at my waist. One in each boot.
One strapped high on my thigh. One at the small of my back.
And one last, tiny dagger slipped into my hair, where most other women would have used a hair comb. Of course, my pointy little accessory worked just fine for holding my long, dark hair up off my neck, with the added benefit of being sharp enough to slip between someoneâs ribs.
After sliding the small dagger into my hair, I turned and examined myself in the mirror, running my hands over the tight-fitting leather on my skin. Iâd always suspected that the uniform was part of the reason women had never been permitted to join the Hunters before.
Itâs hardly ladylike to wear trousers at all, much less ones so tight that they hugged every curve. And corsets were meant to only be worn under blousesânot over them, where they very clearly accentuated my femininity.
Still, that hardly seemed fair. Those tight trousers were just as distracting on the men, after all; you only needed to see where the women in the village directed their gazes as the Hunters passed to know that.
But the rest of the village could keep their whispered opinions and scathing looks to themselves. The Dark Forest was a dangerous place, and I didnât need long skirts and flowy blouses snagging on tree branches.
Or monstersâ claws, for that matter. I suppose that was the other part of the reason women were never Hunters.
After all, we were far too delicate to face down monsters. I gave my reflection a wry smile as I brushed my fingers over the handles of each blade at my waist.
The other Hunters had tried hard to keep me out of their ranks. But I was the only child of a master Hunter, and heâd taught me everything he would have taught a son, had he been given one.
I knew I was ready. I turned away from the mirror and toward the door, striding out into the village.
The light of the setting sun turned the homes on the other side of the narrow street into dark, squatting shadows, their windows glowing like eyes in the growing darkness. I turned down the street and strode toward the edge of the village, where a far deeper darkness awaited.
As the encroaching buildings fell behind me, the Dark Forest came into view, its tall, thin trees reaching ominously toward the deepening colors of the twilit sky. I felt a prickle rush over my skin as I looked up at the uppermost branches.
But it was not a prickle of fear. No, it was a thrill of excitementâthe same excitement that had leapt in my blood for as far back as I could remember, every time I looked at the Dark Forest.
As a child, I would sit up in my bed at night, staring out the window at the distant treetops, listening to the wind rustling their branches. And where other children had heard whispered threats and reasons to fear, I heardâŠa call, like a song being whispered in the night, just for me.
I knew that, somehow, I belonged out here.
âYou actually showed up.â
My eyes darted sideways at the voice, catching sight of the other leather-clad figure that had approached the edge of the forest. He drew up beside me, both of us facing the trees.
âYou didnât think I would?â I asked innocently.
âOh, I knew you would,â he answered. âA smarter girl wouldâve stayed home, but youâve always been a damned fool, Morgana.â
âI could say the same of you, Callum,â I countered. Then, after a pause, I added, âAnd many worse things as well.â
He snorted in an amused, disinterested sort of way.
Before he could say more, however, the sound of approaching footsteps caused us both to turn our heads away from the trees. But not our backs. You never turned your back on the Dark Forest.
The other Hunters strode forward, and I found myself lifting my chin a little higher, setting my shoulders a little straighter. Let them look at me. Let them sneer at me. I refused to look ashamed.
I belong here far more than you do, something in my blood whispered. I met their hard gazes with a steely look of my own, and they all looked away, turning their attention to the lead Hunter, Bram.
The old man spoke without ever looking my way; apparently, heâd decided to stick with his usual method of dealing with meâignoring the fact that Iâd bested every last one of his Hunters in the trials, pretending as if I hadnât earned my admission into their ranks. Better to just pretend âthe girlâ wasnât there.
âI wonât talk long,â he said. âNightâs coming fast, and the village needs us out there, stopping those creatures before they come near our borders. Be on the lookout. Remember your training. Do not hesitate to kill, not even for an instant. If you do, these monsters will gut you without a second thought. Be smart, and you just might come out of there alive in the morning. Understood?â
We all nodded. He returned the gesture, the full moon reflecting off his white hair in bright silver light.
âVery good, men.â
My eyes rolled briefly upward. There was no way that was an accident.
âHead out.â
Weapons slid from belts and backsâswords, bows, axesâand the Hunters all turned toward the Dark Forest. I turned as well, sliding a blade into each hand, and started forward.
A shoulder bumped roughly into me from behind, and I shot a glare at the sandy-haired man who passed me. Callum, of course.
âTry not to faint at the first sign of a lycan,â he said, his grin a white crescent in the darkening landscape.
âTry not to piss yourself at the first Fae you see,â I retorted sharply.
He was as inexperienced as I was. Weâd both passed the trials just last month.
But he was not the one everyone was doubting. He laughed off my remark and began trotting forward. Looking briefly back over his shoulder at me, he called, âYou can always scream my name if you get into trouble, Morgana. I wouldnât mind hearing you screaming my name, you know.â
I felt my face burn and my lip curl into a snarl. But Callum didnât see it.
He had already vanished between the trees. I knew I shouldnât have let it bother me.
I should be used to it. Most of the Hunters treated me this wayâwaffling between insults and indecent suggestions with all the regularity of a swinging pendulum.
Callum was the worst of them. But I would show him.
I would show all of them. When I walked out of the forest tonight with proof Iâd killed a monster, nobody would question my abilities as a Hunter again.
Gripping my daggers tighter, I increased my pace, slipping into the darkness between the towering trees of the Dark Forest.
The light of the full moon vanished with surprising speed, swallowed up by the shadows under the trees.
My gaze darted from one dark space to the next, searching for any sign of movement in the impenetrable night of the Dark Forest. As I walked briskly deeper into the wood, I felt certain that the air around me was growing colder.
I brushed it off, not allowing my step to falter as I took stock of the other weapons strapped to my person. While every Hunter had a preferred weapon, we also all carried a small arsenal of other essentials for fighting the beasts in the Dark Forests.
Stakes for vampires nestled against my forearms, beneath the loose sleeves of my blouse. Iron shavings for disorienting Fae were contained in small vials at my belt.
And of course, some of my own daggers were tipped in silver for slaying lycans. I was mentally tallying each weapon at my disposal when I heard something.
I froze, my feet shifting slightly on the soft soil as I looked around me. Though Iâd grown somewhat used to the darkness, a silvery mist had crept into the woods, further obscuring my vision.
My heart pounded in my ears, and I begged it to be silent, straining to listen for that noise again. I heard only silence.
And then, a soft, almost gentle shushing sound. Not a hiss, but a sound like silken fabric sliding across skin.
I spun, daggers quickly rising. I registered only a pale face and dark eyes before letting both of the blades fly from my fingertips.
But where the pale-faced figure had stood a moment before, there was now only shadow and mist, swirling gently from recent movement. I stared breathlessly at the spot where my knives had lodged themselves into the dark bark of the tree, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
âNow, is that any way to say hello?â a voice breathed in my ear.
I jumped and spun once again, drawing two more daggers from my belt, even as I danced backward on the damp leaves that covered the forest floor.
The figure before me didnât move this time. He stood inhumanly still, his dark eyes watching me with amusement from his pale face.
I stared back, my eyes darting over his form. He looked almost normal.
Black, somewhat untidy hair curled over his ears. A long coat, much finer than anything the men in the village owned, hung from his shoulders, with his hands shoved deep into the pockets.
Tall riding boots hugged his calves. A loose white shirt was tucked into black riding leathers.
He looked like a lordâs son, lost on his way home from a hunt. Except his face.
His pale skin seemed to accentuate the rigidity of his cheekbones, the strong cut of his jaw, and the full redness of his lips. And of course, his dark, almost black eyes.
No, I realized. Not almost black. Black. Truly black.
Because, as those full red lips quirked into a small smile, I saw the flash of a single pointed tooth, and I knew beyond a doubt what this creature was.
A vampire.
