CHAPTER 30: CHAPTER 30 - THE HUNT BEGINS

The knock at their doors came long before the sun. A servant’s voice carried low and brisk through the hall.

"Miladies. The hunt is called for dawn. Please prepare yourselves."

Morena was already awake. Sleep had been shallow, little more than a haze where her body rested, but her mind stayed alert. Ever since she had made progress as a warrior, she found that her need for sleep had lessened.

Where she previously needed at least seven hours of rest to function properly, now she could make do with just five. It may even lessen as she grows.

As it was the day of the hunt, she properly wore her armour; fitted leather straps drawn snug, plates trimmed thin so as not to weigh her steps. As she walked towards the door, she belted her mother’s dagger to her hip and took up the spear her father had given her.

The wood felt steady in her hand, the balance as precise as it had been the day he presented it.

Alina, on the other hand, shuffled out of her chamber with a yawn, her hair only half-brushed, her armor slung over her shoulder instead of strapped properly.

"You’re too awake for this hour."

Her voice was muffled around the bread roll she had stolen from the kitchen tray.

Morena moved closer and adjusted the wrap over her shoulder for the girl, arching a brow as she scolded.

"That’s because I didn’t spend half the night laughing with your friends in the hall."

Alina smiled, tugging her red hair back into a braid.

"And here I thought my elder sister would praise me for being sociable."

Morena said nothing more, but there was the faintest curve to her lips as they made their way out together, entering the carriage that made its way to the estate grounds.

The estate’s back grounds had been transformed overnight. Torches guttered low in the chill air, throwing sparks onto the trampled stone paths. Dozens of young nobles gathered there, armored in varying degrees—some in polished mail with swords glittering on their hips, others in leather dyed bright, more ceremonial than practical.

Their escorts stood aside, arms folded, leaving the field to the youth.

At the far end, upon a platform, Earl Duran waited like a mountain in fur. Once everyone had gathered and the time to begin had arrived, he raised a hand, and the chatter fell to a hush.

"My hunters."

His voice carried across the yard, booming against the pale horizon.

"Today you prove yourselves—not to me, not to the stories, but to one another. You know the rules, but I’ll remind you once more."

He gestured, and two attendants stepped forward with a wide sheet of parchment. The map was unrolled between them, corners weighted with stones.

Gasps rippled faintly through the crowd from those who were new to the hunt.

Even rough and faded, it was a treasure: hills marked in uneven ink, streams winding like veins, a jagged red line showing the boundary of the hunting grounds.

A map.

Morena instantly understood just how rare the thing before her was. In a period where technology didn’t exist, making maps often came with challenges; one had to explore the area firsthand and draw the map as they went.

It wasn’t possible to mass-produce maps, and it wasn’t easy to explore the lands to make one accurately; that was why maps were rather rare, especially large ones.

In all the books Morena had read, not a single one had a map of the Brightburn Kingdom, only rough sketches of areas. That was why a map of the forest, even if it wasn’t great, was quite rare.

"Within these woods, horned deer run swift, boar root and charge, and—if you are bold enough—direwolves test your teeth. The boundary is law. Cross it, and you are on your own. Bring back antlers, tusks, pelts, fangs—proof of your kills earns you honor. And above all, return alive. I want stories, not funerals."

Laughter broke out at that, but it was edged with nerves. Morena’s eyes never left the map.

"AI. Memorize."

[Memorized. Terrain overlay created. Boundary constraints noted.]

"Good."

After explaining some more of the basic matters and allowing the people to memorize the map, the Earl rolled the map closed, clapping his hands once.

"Enough talk. Go—hunt!"

The yard exploded into motion. Nobles broke into groups almost instantly, laughter and boasting trailing behind them. Cedric gathered his circle and left to hunt down the direwolves like he boasted about the night before.

Ren loped after Alina with a grin, and smaller parties scattered in every direction.

Alina tossed a glance over her shoulder as she went.

"Good luck, sister. Don’t get lost."

Morena inclined her head.

"And you—don’t get careless."

Then she was gone with her companions, red hair bright in the dawn.

Morena did not move immediately; she stood a moment longer, watching the flood thin into streams, until only a handful lingered. Then she turned on her heel and slipped into the woods alone, her cloak drawn tight, her spear point steady at her side.

The forest swallowed her quickly; tall pines and leaves cast a shadow over the dirt below. The air smelled of resin and damp leaves, every step muffled in thick loam.

"AI. Based on the map and the habits of horned deer, where would they likely graze?"

[Horned deer prefer clearings near water. Probability is high along streams to the northeast, or in shallow valleys where undergrowth is thin. Estimated movement speed: 40 to 50 kilometers per hour. Caution recommended.]

Morena adjusted her grip and viewed the stored image of the map in her mind.

"Then northeast it is."

She moved carefully, her boots soundless against the earth. She circled her energy throughout her entire body and kept it fully alert; she no longer maintained the concealment formation as she was alone, unlikely to come across a high-ranked warrior in the forest.

Instead, she used her full speed to quickly dash through the forest.

The first sign came as a faint crack ahead. She froze, crouched, and peered through the brush.

A horned deer stepped into a shaft of light. Its antlers curled like hooked blades, its shoulders heavy with muscle. Another joined it, then a third, their ears twitching as they grazed.

Morena narrowed her eyes and stilled her breath; they had great hearing, so she had to be extremely quiet. They were larger than she expected—easily taller than her chest, their legs built for speed.

They were drinking water from a shallow stream. If she attacked them outright, they would run; she had to think of a plan to corner them.

Glancing around, she spotted a fallen branch.

She grimaced.

"Choke point it is."

She eased back, circling wide until she found a narrow cut between rocks. There, she hefted a fallen branch and hurled it into the opposite thicket.

The crash snapped the deer to attention. Ears flicked, muscles coiled, and in an instant, they bolted—straight toward her choke point.

Morena braced, spear leveled.

The first deer burst through, eyes wide, antlers low. She thrust; the point struck its shoulder but glanced, slicing deep but not stopping it.

Pain jolted her wrists; she had missed, and the spear bent her wrist. The beast screamed, twisted, and charged past.

The second came harder. She sidestepped, slammed the spear butt into the ground, and let its own momentum carry it onto the angled point. Flesh tore; hot blood sprayed across her arm, but it wasn’t her own. The animal writhed, wrenching the shaft, before collapsing with a shudder.

The third turned, having noticed what was happening, panicked, leaping sideways. Morena wasn’t going to allow it to get away; she lunged, catching it with a shallow cut across the flank.

It bounded off into the woods, vanishing in a blur of hooves.

"Damn fast."

Her chest heaved, and her hand ached. It was the first time she had tried fighting something, even if that thing didn’t fight back; it was quite hard. She planted a boot on the dead deer’s chest and wrenched the spear free with a wet rip.

[Kill confirmed. Injury: Low. Energy circulation is stable.]

Morena exhaled slowly, looking at the trail of blood along the path.

The first deer—wounded but alive—had crashed deeper into the woods. As it ran, it bled, leaving a very noticeable trail that she followed: snapped branches, a smear of blood across bark.

It led her to a shallow clearing where the beast staggered, foam at its mouth. It turned when she emerged, lowered its head, and charged.

She didn’t retreat; instead, she darted forward, inside the arc of its antlers, and drove the spear up beneath its throat. The force carried them both to the ground. The beast kicked once, twice, then stilled.

Morena rose, blood soaking her hands, but she was fine, uninjured. She wasn’t even tired.

Two kills, it was a good start, but others would have more. The fire in her chest whispered for more.

She cleaned her grip and carved the horns out of both deer, keeping them in a pouch as proof. She then pressed on, and before long she found herself face-to-face with a boar rooting through the underbrush.

The creature’s tusks curled thick, its shoulders packed with raw power. When it noticed her, it squealed and charged without hesitation.

Morena thrust, but the beast twisted, tusk gouging her side. Pain flared, hot and sharp. She rolled, grit filling her mouth, and came up to meet it again.

She pivoted as the boar lunged again, driving the spear into its side. It screamed, thrashing, nearly tearing the weapon free of her grip. She braced, gathering the energy inside her body, she called upon her strength and shoved deeper, and with a final heave, sent it crashing to the ground.

Her chest rose and fell, the ache of bruises deep in her ribs, but she stood over her third kill.

"State of wound?"

[Injury: Low. Only a graze, slight cut.]

Thanks to her increased durability, the boar hadn’t managed to pierce her skin with its graze; thankfully, it didn’t hit her directly because even with her increased durability, it would’ve broken a bone.

As she stooped down to cut the tusks out from the boar, she noticed something in the dirt.

Tracks.

Pressed deep into the mud near the path, not a deer’s or boar’s, larger than any hound’s. Four paws, claws digging into soil.

Wolf.

[Analysis: Direwolf tracks. Size indicates juvenile, but larger than average wolf. Direction: northeast. Timeframe: within the last two hours.]

She brushed her fingers along the prints; the edges were still damp. The beast was close.

She rose, eyes narrowing toward the shadowed slope of trees beyond.

The deer and boar were one thing. But this—this was the true test, and she didn’t feel like backing down.

She set her spear, cloak falling close around her shoulders.

"Let’s hunt some wolves."

The forest swallowed her once more.