Page 17 of Ashborne Phoenix

I kept my chin high and ignored the darting looks and muttered words of the men around me when I took my place. None of them were impressed by my father’s declaration that I’d be handed my birthright before my birthday. They’d all been forced to wait.

Those younger, closer to me in age, while frustrated, only saw further competition for their own ranks.

I smiled. They’d all fall to my power, anyway.

The night was dark. The moon a half-slice, but hidden mostly behind clouds. The trees and outcroppings of the land around the estate loomed black in the diluted silver light. No one would hunt easily tonight.

I smiled. I knew precisely where my prey would be. I could have found her blindfolded. And the night would hide me on my way.

It was frustrating to be forced to wait—the oldest and highest-ranked men sent out first, then everyone else, each level of the hierarchy required to achieve more in order to prove their dominance over those above.

When I was finally freed, along with the half a dozen of the youngest and least powerful men, I sprinted from the circle of torches and into the night, smiling. I’d make up the time because I knew exactly where to find her. So, I ran, smiling, my mind full of images of finding Cali and holding her, perhaps taking her before we returned.

Most of the men scattered in different directions. But niggling thoughts wouldn’t leave me. Knowing where Cali planned to hide, I wondered if others also schemed. Had other prizes shared their intended hiding spots with their preferred hunter? Were the ranks ever as difficult to win as they appeared, when you had an ally?

It was a problem to consider another night. For now, I ran, heart pounding both with the exertion and with anticipation.

There was a pond, deep to the west. Small, but still within the confines of the wood, and overarched by mature trees. Unknown to most who hadn’t spent their youths exploring this estate because there was a much larger lake a quarter of a mile east. Most never ventured past it.

We’d met in that place before, and both knew it intimately.

Cali would be hiding in the crux of the thickest of the trees, where the branches below would hide her even from passersby, unless they specifically looked up into the tree’s sprawling reach.

But as I ran, the sky overhead became oppressive. At first, I thought it was merely my anticipation and desire to win pressing on my lungs. But then a gust of wind blew up to rattle the trees overhead, carrying a frigid cold.

Had my mother manipulated the weather again?

Wind, and especially rain, assisted prey. Made sounds of their passage harder to identify. But it also softened the ground, and to the skilled, provided extra clues to follow in tracking.

I had no need to track. No need to slow or check my course, except to ensure I didn’t catch a toe on a tree root, or send myself sprawling.

To my chagrin, I was only halfway to the little pond when the first drops of rain pattered overhead. And within minutes my hair and shoulders grew cold as the light drizzle penetrated to find my skin.

Still, I pressed on.

I didn’t follow a path, so I was forced to slow when I drew near. The pond was so small, I had to navigate by landmarks. The last of those, a lightning-struck tree stump.

Pushing wet handfuls of my hair back from my eyes, I cursed as the wind rose again while I blinked through the mist of rain, looking for the stump.

Then three things happened in quick succession.

The wind died to nothing, as if God’s breath ran out and He took a moment to inhale. There was a small cry ahead that pierced that silence, but for little more than a heartbeat, before lightning sizzled. White light flashed across the sky, highlighting everything in silver for a blink. Then thunder crashed directly overhead. So close, I felt the earth rumble under my feet.

My heart leaped in my chest—fear and determination both stealing my breath as I caught sight of the stump and rushed forward.

But the storm wanted to stop me.

I would replay those short minutes over and over in my mind, again and again, in the months and years following. Always wondering how it might have gone differently. Or how I might have changed the course of that dark, awful night.

Determined despite the rain now running into my eyes, I plowed forward into the storm, the trees around me lashing in a fresh gust of wind. The low light glinted on puddles and highlighted leaves and bushes. But I knew where I was now, and ran forward, calling for Cali the moment I saw the rippling surface of the pond between the trees.

“Cali! Cali?”

I heard a small, high noise, but it was carried away by the wind. I rushed forward, scanning the trees, uncertain if she would have remained in the branches once she heard me, or climbed down.

I slowed my steps as I neared the pond, and began to turn in a circle, searching for her. The first impression I took in the dark, when the light glimmered on a thick, moving edge, was that one of the bushes under the trees had grown since I was last in this place, because a wide, rounded, black shadow moved in the wind.

But something about it felt unnatural, at odds with the glimmers of the wood around us, and I stopped, taking a second look. Calling.