Shaeyas crouched carefully in the grass, feeling the pressure of her shoulder strap diminish as the satchel containing two rabbits touched down onto the ground. She readied her bow, un-looping it from over her shoulder and neck, careful not to push against the taut string lest the twang alert her quarry. She drew an arrow from the quiver at her waist, nocking it and carefully drawing it back.

The deer had stopped. A tall, slender doe. A bit skinny for Shaeyas' taste, but meat was meat.

One of its ears twitched, and it lifted its head, nose turned upward, scenting the air. Luckily, Shaeyas was downwind, and had been the entire time she'd been following the doe's tracks. She waited, bow drawn, hoping the wind would settle. One good shot, and her husband and grandfather would be rewarded for their journey into town with a true feast. With any luck, they'd have brought some spices back with them, as well as whatever supplies they would be able to fetch from selling furs.

Shaeyas' heart skipped a beat at the thought of her husband. Sometimes she was sure she was just as infatuated with him now as she had been when they first met. It was still less than a year since they'd cleaved together as husband and wife. Truth be told, they'd had 'relations' a number of times before their wedding day, and more times than Shaeyas could count since.

Still, she had yet to miss her ‘blood moon’--not for lack of trying. But she'd decided not to let that fact worry her, just yet. According to Tavlen, it wasn't so unusual, and there was still lots of time. Shaeyas was still only nineteen, after all, and Venkas only a year older than she was. Practically children in so many ways, at least according to Tavlen. Children to her. And that was all right.

Shaeyas had lost her parents a long time ago, but she could always depend on her grandparents, certainly for many more years yet. One day, Shaeyas would care for her grandparents the same way they had taken care of her, her husband, and her siblings. One day, she and Venkas would have their own children and grandchildren, and so on, and the circle of life would continue--the meaning of life, as far as Shaeyas saw it.

Something moved in the brush up ahead, just beyond the doe that was still sniffing the air. The deer had yet to notice the movement or hear it. Tufts of brown grass parted tentatively as something crept in the undergrowth, something with colors well-suited for blending into the autumn foliage.

Seamus had to stare long and hard before a discernible shape emerged among the blades of grass. Her brain painted the picture for her--or perhaps more of a sketch.

A mountain lion. Never much of a surprise. Shaeyas and her family did live in a mountainous region, after all. Where the trees were thick, and there were lots of rocky ridges full of crags for such creatures to climb and hide in; medium-sized predators that were easily startled by human folk.

If Seamus were to merely stand and holler at the creature, she had little doubt it would take off and run in the opposite direction. In this case, the beast's presence didn't concern her as far as her own safety. Rather, she was thinking about the potential venison meal in front of her. The lion could spring at any second, and the deer would bolt. Whether or not the lion would catch the deer was one question. The other was whether or not Shaeyas would be able to down the deer in the middle of its flight.

There was only one thing to do: take the shot now and claim the deer for herself.

She closed one eye, taking aim.

And then something strange occurred to her. Watching the deer there--that fragile, long-legged creature of the wood. It was one thing to be the hunter, hiding in the tall grass, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, practically salivating at the potential meal before her. But now she was seeing it from the outside in. The lion was the hunter, and the deer was the hunted. She related to the poor thing. On an odd whim, she began to fantasize about a means to save it.

She could do it, of course. As soon as the lion emerged from the grass, she would have a clear shot if the wind favored her and the lion moved in a predictable fashion. She was confident she could down it, or at least the challenge of it piqued her interest.

Not that it made any sense. She should go for the deer, now, and ensure her dinner.

What in the name of every god am I doing?

But she waited, watching as the wind picked up again suddenly, rustling the tall brown grass and the autumn leaves overhead in the tree, and causing branches to crack and bounce against each other.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

This commotion, these sounds, were like little sparks that would set the deer's steadily building panic alight. It was going to take off any second now; Shaeyas was sure of it.

But the deer remained where it was, posing as if for a portrait, on the verge of dashing away but never quite drumming up enough excitement or fear to do so.

The lion sprang.

Shaeyas braced, lining up her shot. Her bow had been drawn for mere seconds, but it felt like minutes, if not hours, in the tension of the moment. She loosed the arrow, which whistled as it flew through the air, a gentle, innocuous noise like the sound of a dragonfly passing.

It struck the lion mid-bound, piercing its neck and slamming it sideways into the ground.

The deer bolted.

Shaeyas nocked another arrow, aiming and following the trajectory of the deer's flight.

A twig snapped next to Shaeyas, and a section of dry grass crunched underfoot. Her heart jumped into her throat.

She spun, rounding on the perpetrator, her bow still drawn.

It was her brother, Arlen, looking weary and out of breath, little bits of twigs and red pine needles in his hair. He bent forward, hands on his knees, gasping.

Shaeyas lowered the bow, and un-nocking the arrow. "Arlen! What on earth!?"

Arlen's messy, ear-length hair fell, obscuring his face. "It's...Venkas!"

*****

Shaeyas cast off her pack, dropping it behind her as she ran, her boots crunching over the dry autumn brush. The wind had died again, and it was quiet in the woods, but for the sounds of her harried footfalls, her ragged breathing, and the pound of her heartbeat in her head. The sun was starting to set, and to the west the dull orange glow of the sun radiated among the trees. The air was turning crisp and cold, and her breath came out in foggy wisps.

She was already imagining the worst. Because she knew. She understood. In her mind's eye, she could see her grandmother Tavlen sharpening the cleaver, putting a rolled cloth in between Venkas' teeth.

It wasn't right. This shouldn't be happening. He shouldn't have to be going through something like this. Not without his wife by his side. She was failing him, not being there. She--

"Sis!"

Arlen. Somewhere behind her.

Shaeyas skidded, nearly sliding onto her side on the moist ground. She looked back.

Arlen was jogging, trying to catch up, panting desperately.

His cheeks and hands were red with cold. He hadn't dressed properly for this excursion. And he was exhausted from his frantic search for her.

He needed to get inside, and out of the cold. He needed to get home soon, or he was going to be stranded here in the dark, with a mountain lion lurking about. Shaeyas knew she was safe from the beast, but her ten-year-old brother? For all she knew, the lion could be stalking him right now.

She wasn't thinking clearly. She was caught up. Emotional. Frankly, she was terrified.

She took a deep breath.

She had to let it go. For now, she had to focus on this.

Easier said than done.

"Come here," she said, waving Arlen over. She took his hands, holding them. "You're freezing."

He nodded, chattering.

She removed her fur coat, threw it over his shoulders. "Put this on."

He nodded again, putting his arms through the sleeves. He crossed his arms, hugging the warm fur against himself.

Shaeyas took off her gloves too, slipping them over his hands. "There. Also, you're going to have to take this." She un-looped her bow from over her shoulder and handed it to him. "Promise you'll hold on to this?"

He nodded, for the third time.

She turned her back to him and knelt down, making her arms into loops behind her back so her brother could put his legs through them. "Hurry up, little brother. We have to hurry."

Tall grass crackled behind her as Arlen pattered over. As she felt his thighs settling in on her forearms, she took stock of her surroundings--the dull, descending glow of the sun, the crawling shadows among the trees. Once Arlen was settled, legs locked in her arms and one hand gripping her shoulder, Shaeyas stood.

Oof.

It would take her twice as long--at least--to get back to the cabin. She was already doing the math in her head. It would be well past dark. And Venkas...

Venkas...

She took off at a near run. It was hard going, but she had the endurance for it. She was a feminine woman, and well aware of her attributes--as well as charms, learned from her mother and grandmother and honed during her courtly visits to the nearest towns, when she'd been in search of a man--but she was no delicate flower. She was slim, but her scant build served to accentuate the cords of lean muscle throughout her body, enhancing her curves and overall figure; perhaps another reason why she'd managed to win Venkas over so readily in those early days. First impressions can make a world of difference, after all. Still, perhaps she was giving herself too much credit. She could remember the way Venkas' eyes shone from the first, openly lovestruck, even before she'd been so determined to secure him with her wiles. He'd seen her for who she was, and loved her, from the beginning.

Shaeyas ran. She ran until her legs felt like they'd been filled with bricks, and her head and neck pounded painfully with the too-quick pulse of her heart. She ran until her breath came like pins and needles in her lungs and throat. And kept running. As she ran, night drew, like a set of dark, star-dotted curtains, and she had no choice but to slow to a steady jog, worried that she might trip in the dark and hurt herself, or Arlen. Falling and breaking a leg would only make circumstances far worse than they already were.

When she could finally see the cabin, windows flickering with fiery tongues of light from the stove, she felt a renewed burst of energy, one that propelled her the rest of the way. She slowed to a stop, set down Arlen, and pushed open the door.