Just as I reached for another arrow, a flicker of movement caught my attention. My head snapped to the right, eyes narrowing on the source. There, hopping near the bushes, was a rabbit. Not just any rabbit—it was that rabbit. The same one Suzan and I had seen back at the cabin. The black mark on its head was unmistakable, and its upper coat had that familiar darker shade compared to its lower body.

I blinked, half-expecting it to vanish, but it stayed. For once, luck was on my side. No need to wander the forest searching for a target—it had come right to me. Finally, something easy for a change.

“Hmm…”

But then, reality hit me. I’d never killed an animal before. Flies? Sure. Ants? Plenty. But this wasn’t a bug I could swat away. This was a living, breathing creature. My grip on the bow tightened, heart thumping against my ribs. ‘It’s just a rabbit,’ I told myself. ‘People do this all the time.’

My arms tensed as I raised the bow, fingers lightly pinching the arrow's shaft. My breath slowed as I tried to line up the shot. But my chest felt heavier with each second I aimed. I could hear my pulse thudding in my ears.

My fingers twitched. Slowly, I lowered the bow, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The arrow slipped from my hand as I glanced down, jaw tight. The rabbit's ears twitched. It sniffed the air, head tilting in that curious way rabbits do. Then, without warning, it bolted, vanishing into the underbrush like a ghost.

I sighed, shoulders slumping.

Mox must've seen it too because she stood, dusting herself off. She walked over, her eyes sharp as she scanned the bush where the rabbit disappeared. Her wings gave a quick flick before settling.

“Thought you were hunting rabbits,” she said, not even looking at me. Her gaze stayed on the bush. “You didn’t even try to shoot.”

“I…” I hesitated, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ve never killed an animal before.”

“'Kill' is the wrong word,” she said, her wings twitching again. “Hunt. You’re hunting rabbits. You’re using what nature provides. There’s a difference.”

I tilted my head back, staring at the sky as if it had answers. "Yeah, I guess you're right,” I muttered, shrugging. "Doesn't make it easier, though."

"Doesn't have to be," she replied, brushing past me to sit back on her boulder. “So, that’s it? You done?”

I glanced at the spot where the rabbit had been. The quest wasn’t worth it, not really. I’d failed plenty of things before, and letting this one go wouldn’t be the end of the world. But curiosity itched at me. I’d been wondering about this “item material” the quest had mentioned. It felt like a mystery dangling just out of reach, and the only way to solve it was to see it through.

But to get there… I’d have to do it.

I gnawed on my lip, eyes locked on the dirt. My fingers flexed, curling into fists before relaxing again. When I glanced back up, Mox was watching me, her gaze steady. No teasing this time. No smirks or jabs. Just quiet observation.

With a resigned breath, I nodded. My fingers wrapped around the bow's grip like I was holding onto something more than wood and string. If I was going to do this, I’d have to do it properly.

“You’re right,” I said, meeting her eyes. “We still have time.” I lifted the bow. “Will you help me hunt it?”

Mox’s grin was quick and sharp. “About time, hotshot,” she said, already turning toward the forest. “Come on. Let’s track that little rascal.”

I followed her through the trees, the crunch of leaves and soft squelch of mud underfoot filling the air. She moved with ease, stepping lightly over roots and weaving through the bushes like she’d done it a hundred times before. I did my best to keep up, ducking under branches and hopping over puddles.

Mox crouched suddenly, her sharp eyes locked on something ahead. She reached out, parting a bush to reveal a patch of dirt. Her finger jabbed at the ground, tracing a small, dark cluster.

“See that?” she asked, tilting her head toward it. “Droppings.”

I leaned in, squinting at the mess of leaves, dirt, and... yeah, no mistaking it. “Yeah, I see it,” I muttered, wrinkling my nose. “Charming.”

“That means it just pooped here,” she added like I needed clarification.

I shot her a flat look. “I know what droppings are, Mox. But thanks for the insightful commentary.”

She shrugged, her wings twitching with mock innocence. “Considering your ‘expertise’ with hunting, I figured a lesson wouldn't hurt.”

“So thoughtful of you.”

“Anyway,” she said, leaning forward to brush away some leaves. Her finger trailed over small imprints in the soft mud. “See these tracks? Fresh. It went that way.” She pointed toward a narrow path leading deeper into the woods.

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I nodded, adjusting the bow on my shoulder. “Alright. Lead the way. I’m right behind you.”

She glanced back, her eyes glinting with a spark of approval. “Try not to spook it this time.”

“I didn’t spook it. It just… ran off.”

“Sure, hotshot,” she said, grinning as she started forward. “Just don’t freeze up and let it escape again.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I stepped after her, feeling the damp chill of the forest air sink into my clothes.

“Good,” she said, eyes scanning the ground ahead. “So, what’s with the sudden change of heart?”

“Like I said, just trying to learn the ropes,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the tracks. “Can’t give up now.”

I wasn’t about to tell her the truth—that a translucent quest box was urging me to hunt down a rabbit in exchange for some mystery reward. Telling her that would just raise more questions, ones I didn’t have answers for. The box had saved me before, but it still freaked me out. Invisible quests, strange powers, and now I was about to kill a rabbit. None of this felt normal.

Mox crouched again, her eyes sharp as she scanned the ground. She changed direction and I followed closely, each step accompanied by the wet squelch of mud beneath our boots.

“You know a lot about hunting,” I said, stepping over a root that jutted out of the ground.

“Not a lot,” she replied, stepping lightly past a low-hanging branch. “Just the basics. I can track and hunt small animals. The simple stuff.”

“What about the not simple stuff?” I asked, glancing around like something big might be watching us.

She glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “Like bears or drakes? Nah. I avoid them. If I catch wind of one nearby, I change direction real fast.”

“Are we... close to any of those ‘not simple’ animals right now?”

Her grin widened as she faced forward again. “Nope. They don’t hang around near cities.”

“Good.”

“Probably,” she added.

I stopped mid-step. “Probably?”

She chuckled, her wings giving a small flick. “Sometimes a little uncertainty makes life exciting, hotshot.”

“Sometimes not getting mauled by a bear is all the excitement I need, Mox.”

“Gloomy as ever,” she teased, stepping over a fallen branch. “Relax. I’d hear them before they got close.” Her head tilted forward, eyes narrowing. “Wait… I see it.”

“See what?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper as she pointed ahead. “There. See it?”

I crouched beside her, peering through the underbrush. The rabbit was there, alright, its tiny chest rising and falling fast. But something was off. Its breaths were shallow, wheezy, and its little body trembled as if life itself was leaking out of it. Blood trickled from the corner of its mouth, its eyes half-lidded in exhaustion.

Mox crept forward, her boots barely making a sound. She crouched beside it, tilting her head as she spotted something next to the rabbit—a chunk of bright orange. She picked it up, sniffed it, and immediately pulled back, grimacing.

“Poisoned,” she said, tossing the carrot aside. Her lips curled into a look of disgust. “Farmers do it sometimes. Keeps rabbits and other pests from wrecking their crops.”

“Huh…” I muttered, feeling something churn in my chest.

“Come on,” she said, straightening up. She gestured toward the bow hanging at my side. “Here’s your chance. It’s suffering anyway. End it.”

My heart gave a sharp thud in my chest. I swallowed hard, my gaze flicking between her and the rabbit.

“Right,” I muttered, slowly stepping forward.

The rabbit wheezed, its breaths shallow. It didn’t move as I crouched over it, didn’t even flinch. It couldn’t. My fingers trembled as I reached back, pulling an arrow from the quiver. I nocked it slowly, trying not to let the sound of the string draw my attention away.

‘Just do it. Quick. It’s already dying. It’s the right thing to do.’

I took a breath, pulling the bowstring back, aiming down at it. The arrowhead hovered over the rabbit’s small frame. It didn’t look at me. It didn’t squirm. It just lay there, its chest rising and falling like a broken bellows.

My grip wavered. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t training with bottles on a well. This was real. A real life, right in front of me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my breath as my fingers loosened. The string twanged, and a sharp thunk echoed through the forest.

Silence.

I opened my eyes.

The arrow was buried deep in the rabbit's chest, its body still and quiet. No more wheezing. No more struggling. Just stillness.

I lowered the bow, staring at it for a moment too long.

“Hmm…”

Mox walked up beside me, her expression unreadable. She glanced at me, then down at the rabbit, then back at me. Her eyes lingered on my face for a moment before she crouched beside the rabbit.

“You did it,” she said softly, plucking the arrow free. She wiped the blood from its tip on a patch of grass. “Wasn’t pretty, but you did it.”

I sat back on my heels, rubbing my face with one hand. My fingers felt cold, and my chest felt tight. “Yeah…” I muttered, letting out a long, shaky breath. “I did.”

She glanced at me, her gaze softer than usual. “Don’t feel bad, hotshot. You did it clean. Better than letting it suffer.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Mox stood, patting the dirt from her knees. “Alright, come on. We’ll make something useful out of it. No point wasting it now.” She held a hand out to me.

I hesitated before grabbing her hand. Her grip was firm as she pulled me to my feet.

“First time’s always rough,” she said, giving me a small grin. “But you’ll get used to it.”

I stared at the rabbit’s still body one last time. My heart felt heavy, but I shoved it down. Get used to it, huh?

“Yeah,” I muttered, slinging the bow over my shoulder. “I guess I will.”