Page 64 of The Huntmaster

The tribe erupted. A deafening roar of cheers and rhythmic chanting, “Huntmaster”, shook the Nest. Hunters and Elders surged forward to surround him, to congratulate their leader on a kill that would be sung about for generations. Toren climbed back into the arena, a grin of relief on his face, reaching out a hand to his commander.

But Kaelen didn't move. He didn't acknowledge them.

He stood over the carcass, his chest heaving in great, laboured lunges. He was covered in gore, the dark fluid dripping from his chin and his corded arms. He slowly turned his head toward me. His pupils were still wide, black voids, his markings vibrating with an intensity that suggested he was on the verge of snapping. His gaze fixed on mine, heavy and suffocating.

Then, as the crowd drew closer, he did something that shocked the entire village. He turned his back on them. He ignored the Elders, ignored Toren, and ignored the cheers.

With his claws still elongated and his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, he leapt from the arena floor and vanished into the high, dark branches. He retreated into the shadows, his silhouette a heaving shape against the rising moons, leaving the entire tribe in a stunned, ringing silence.

I watched the spot where he disappeared, my body still humming with a desperate, unquenchable fire. The Hunt hadn't even started yet, but the predator had already marked his kill.

"The Huntmaster goes to commune with the Mother!" an Elder finally shouted, his voice cracking like a whip over the murmuring crowd. "He honours the blood-tithe! Prepare yourselves! The twin suns set, and the moons demand their due!"

Toren, ever the diplomat despite being covered in dust and beast-grime, jumped onto the central podium. He waved his arms, flashing a confident, brilliant green from his markings. "You heard the man! The beast is dead, the spirit is high! Go! Prep your scents, sharpen your wits! The Hunt begins at twilight!"

The tension broke, dissolving into a flurry of motion as the tribe dispersed. Sora grabbed my arm, her eyes wide but her lips curved into a frantic grin. "Come on, Lyra. We need to get down to the roots. The Solstice Fire is already being lit."

She led me down, weaving through the massive trunks until we reached the forest floor. I hadn't spent much time here, but tonight it was transformed. In the centre of a wide, mossy clearing, a massive pit had been dug, filled with wood that burned with an eerie, violet-white flame.

The music started—a deep, thrumming percussion that felt like a heartbeat. The instruments were strange, some made of hollowed bone that whistled like the wind, others of taut skin that produced a bass so low I felt it in my teeth. It was beautiful, ethereal, and utterly primal.

Members of the tribe were already circling the fire, their bodies moving in a synchronised, fluid sway. I stood at the edge, my fingers tracing the silver-fox fur of my skirt. My mind was a mile high, lost in the dark branches where Kaelen prowled.

"Stop it," Sora said, bumping her shoulder against mine. "Your mind is in the clouds, but your body is here. Enjoy yourself tonight, Lyra. Look." She pointed up through the gaps in the canopy. The three moons were drawing closer together, their silver, blue, and pale pink hues beginning to overlap. "The Alignment is coming. Just... feel. Belong. Even if your heart is currently hiding in a tree."

"I'm not—my heart isn't hiding," I muttered, trying to look indignant. "I'm just worried he’s going to come back and accidentally eat someone."

Mara emerged from the shadows, looking remarkably less terrifying in the firelight. She held three carved wooden cups, steam rising from them. "Drink this," she commanded, shoving one into my hand. "It will take the edge off. It is fermented honey-wine from the High Nest."

I took a sip. It was thick and sweet, and it hit my stomach like a lightning bolt. I didn't feel crazy, but the world suddenly seemed sharper, the colours of the fire a little more vivid.

"Why the dance before the Hunt?" I asked, my voice already feeling a bit floaty as I followed them toward the fire.

"It is the testing of the Pulse," Sora explained, her hips already moving to the rhythm. "For the unmated, it is the time to sense the heat of another. You decide whether you want to be the hunter, or the hunted. Or," she winked, "you just dance until you forget you have feet."

As the wine worked its way through my system, I found myself moving. Sora and Mara were on either side of me, and for the first time, Mara actually laughed—a deep, hearty sound. She seemed to have lightened up, her movements graceful and powerful. I felt closer to them than I ever thought possible, a strange, beautiful sisterhood forged in a world that wasn't mine.

But as the world began to spin, I felt a pull toward the shadows. I stumbled slightly, laughing it off, and quietly slipped away from the circle.

I looked up. From the forest floor, I could see the cage high above on the lower platforms. Sky was there, his face pressed against the bars, looking down at the fire and the dancers with pure, unadulterated awe.

I climbed the nearby spiral stairs until I was level with him. The guards were distracted by the music, and I didn't care if they saw me anyway. I slid a piece of fruit and a small cake through the bars.

"Quite a show, isn't it?" I whispered.

Sky looked at me, his milky eyes wide. He took the food, but his gaze went to the honey-wine cup in my hand. He sniffed the air and scrunched his nose.

"No, kid," I joked, a little giggle escaping me. "No alien wine for you. You’re way too young to be seeing double."

A miracle happened. Sky smiled. It was small and hesitant, full of sorrow and old pain, but it was a smile. I reached through the bars and rested my hand on his spindly one. Beneath the fear, I saw a glint of reluctant hope—a spark of light that said maybe, just maybe, there was more to the world than hunger.

Thud.

I jumped, spinning around to see Toren standing behind me. He looked incredibly drunk, his markings a swirling, chaotic pink and orange. He leaned against the railing, grinning like a fool.

"You have a soft heart, Star-Woman," he slurred, though his eyes were still sharp. "Maybe too soft for this wood."

"And you have a loud mouth," I quipped back, feeling the buzz of the wine. "Maybe too loud for a tracker."