Page 3 of Their Fierce Little Monster

I blink, staring at my injury. “Oh, yes, a little.”

His mouth twitches at the corners. “Make sure to wash it with boiled water once you’re home. Try not to ruin it in the next five seconds.”

I narrow my eyes, seeing that he’s back to his protector mode. “I was thinking of licking it and hoping that worked,” I say sarcastically, drawing my hand from his.

“Up,” he commands, getting to his feet. “Sun’s dipping behind the mountains, so you need to return to the village before it gets too dark.”

“I can see that, but I blame you for the distraction,” I answer with a grin, collecting my tools and packing them into my bag. I throw it over my shoulder, and I’m up on my feet, wishing I could turn back time.

Now he’ll think I’m not interested, when in truth, it’s everything I’ve dreamed about. Nights where I imagine he’s next to me, whispering sweet words, with my hand down my pants.

Kazak lifts his chin toward the track, and we’re suddenly moving. “Good thing I came by, then.” His grin with the deep lines at the corners is ridiculously disruptive, so I focus on walking straight.

“I can’t hear your party,” he continues.

“Last I saw, they were headed for the ridge, closer to the mountain, to collect lemon myrtle and stinging nettle.”

“They’re not there. I came from that direction. So they could have returned to the village. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to take the east track.”

I nod, well aware that’s where the wild woods lie, even if there are ways off the main track. But the place is full of thornbanks that grow long enough to tear skin from the bone. It’s a shame, really, because the best berries grow along the east river. Kazak collects them for me often.

“You know better than to be out here alone, Dawn. You should have stayed with your party.”

“It was so sunny when I started setting traps, and time got away from me,” I answer, wanting the playful Kazak back.

Around us, tree branches swish loudly, rustling, then everything falls silent. No birds or animal calls. The forest is still, holding its breath.

“I’ll walk you back quickly, then scour the woods for the rest in case they’re still out here,” he explains, nudging my elbow in his quick pace. He glances over with a grin, and I tuck hair behind an ear, speeding up my pace.

“Thanks for bandaging my wound,” I say. “Really appreciate it.”

He smiles, studying my mouth, and I’m caught in his gaze, never wanting to leave. He’s been my savior in this village, and not because he’a a favorite hunter and many look up to him. It’s because he’s him and everyone craves his attention, but he gives it to me.

I’ve never been popular, not after a few incidents where my hands accidentally revealed themselves to several people in the village. Then rumors spread that I wasn’t normal, but Kazak always stood up for me. He’s not rotten on the inside like others.

“Let’s just get you home, Dawn.” We enter the dense woods where the pines are too tall and their upper branches tangle together, blocking most of the light. A breeze flutters through my hair, chilling me. But having Kazak at my side always feels right. He towers over me, and it reminds me how much smaller I am.

That fall breeze picks up again, and I rub the goose bumps from my arms. The Carpathian woods are dangerous, especially when the sun goes down. But we’re taking fast steps, powering along the track.

Stories back in the village tell us that the first monsters in our world came through in a forest akin to this one. Nobody knows the exact location where they first appeared, but most whisper that it’s close when the bells ring on the Day of the Choosing in our village.

A brush rustles behind us, and I halt, glancing over, part of me hoping it’s a bunny to catch.

Except, it’s only the wind—it has to be.

Larger animals like bears and wolves are known to prowl closer to our village sometimes, but the real danger lies in the monstrous beasts that live deep in the mountains.

I speed up my steps along the windy path, gripping my bag’s strap over my shoulder.

“You were quiet this week at the market,” Kazak says, breaking the silence.

“Was I?” I tease, remembering how busy I’d been selling baked goods for my family.

He’s grinning. “Normally, you’re shouting some kind of insult at me from your stand.”

I trip over a rock, and break out laughing. “That really doesn’t sound like me.”

He chuckles, and I’m staring again, longing for something I doubt I’ll ever have.