Prologue
“Race ya,” I yelled at the weathered old man behind me as I sprinted down the trail. My braid whipped in the breeze at my back—wind rushing across the brim of my hat, warm summer air on my face. My lips pulled into a grin when I heard him call out.
“Ash, wait!” he laughed, his breath coming in short wheezes when he caught up with me. I giggled at his struggle. His arms landed on his knees as he bent over, searching for his lost breath. Standing back up, he rubbed a sore spot on his chest. He shook his head and suppressed more chuckles as he berated me.
“I’m too old for this.”
I patted him on the back with a grin. “Only trying to keep you young, Pop.”
“You’re a menace.”
I giggled once more, putting my hands up in surrender.
“Okay, fine. We can walk. I’m just excited—I’ve only been to town a few times. Nan never lets me do anything fun.”
He gave me a playful shove. “She’s only trying to keep you safe.”
“I know…” I sighed, and we continued on the path toward town. Cedar Hill sprawled out in front of us a short while later. Pop and I carried supplies in the bags on our backs—identical bows slung across our chests. Vendors crowded Main Street in the heat of the summer afternoon. People bartered for goods everywhere you looked. The town was brimming with people today. It was fascinating—I had never seen this many people in Cedar Hill before.
“Stay close,” Pop whispered out of the side of his mouth as we entered the throng.
I stood by Pop, observing people pass as he traded the goods out of our packs for others—talking to people and knowing the right things to say to ensure a fair trade. I had watched him many times and never could figure out how he did it. Townsfolk glanced at me and turned up their noses as they passed, making me duck my head in embarrassment.
We stepped up to the booth of a man I was familiar with. Pop traded with him often. He had bushels of wheat laid out in front of him. His name was Miles, from what I could remember. Pop always did the talking, and I stayed hidden behind him, avoiding conversation—it was no different today.
“Good to see you again, Henry.” The dark-haired man’s voice rumbled from where he sat.
“Miles.” Pop gave him a customary nod, and I peeked around his back.
“I see you brought your daughter with you today. Ash, is it?” Miles gave me a nod, as well.
Pop’s face lifted in a pleasant smile.
“Yes, I could barely keep up with her on the way here.”
Miles chuckled, his green eyes flashing in the sunshine.
“You’re doing well, then? Staying safe up there all by yourselves?” Miles looked me over in my place beside Pop, and my adoptive father gave him a thoughtful gaze.
“You know, you’re the only one that ever asks me that.”
Something glinted in his eyes, and he blinked it away.
“Just bein’ neighborly, friend.”
“I appreciate it. We’re doing well.”
Miles was the closest thing that Pop had to a friend. I recalled them going fishing together a few years back.
“And Jo?”
“As stubborn as ever.” Sweat beaded down Pop’s smiling face as he thought about Nan.
Miles looked at me again and inclined his head.
“Teaching your daughter to hunt?” He took notice of my bow.
Pop scratched his head. “I don’t know about that. She’s already better than I am.”
A smug smile pulled at the corners of my mouth and both men chuckled.
“What do you need today, Henry?” Miles asked, shifting the conversation.
The men traded, and the conversation bored me. I turned and watched the people around me once more. Pop knocked into me with his hip, pulling me back.
“Why don’t you go get yourself a treat while I finish up here?” I straightened in excitement, and he handed me a small sack of potatoes to trade.
“Thanks, Pop.” The words rushed out of my mouth and I gave him a side hug and hurried off to find something to buy.
“Don’t be gone too long,” he called warily from behind me. It was maybe only my fifth trip to town, and Pop had never let me go on my own before.
I strolled through the vendors, looking for something that caught my eye. My long brown braid swished against the top of my pants. At fifteen years old, I had grown tall and my clothes didn’t fit as well as they used to. Someone would probably mistake me for a boy if it wasn’t for my hair.
Something sweet floated through the air and into my nose, making me salivate. A cart with heaps of berries on it hid behind the popular vendors. I snuck through the crowd and up to the woman behind the cart. She wore an apron and stirred a fresh pitcher of some sort of drink with sugar and blackberries.
“Can I have a cup, please?” I asked. It was the first time I had ever bartered with anyone and my voice trembled with nerves.
“What do ya got?” Her voice had a harsher accent than most.
I held up my bag of three potatoes.
She nodded and poured me some juice in a wooden cup. Handing her the potatoes, I carefully took my cup from her hands.
“Usually I’d make you bring the cup back, but it looks like you could use it more than me.”
I blanched as she turned away to serve another customer. What was that supposed to mean? Was I really that homely looking?
A commotion started down the street. People murmured in unrest as a pack of soldiers cut through the crowd. Their black clothes contrasted in the bright sun. Black caps protected their heads from the sun. Guns were attached to the hip of each soldier and some carried two weapons holstered on their chests. Each wore a blue band around their arm—the insignia of the king’s men.
The crowd parted for them as they walked down the street. They were coming this way. My body jolted in terror at the sight of them. Frozen in fear, I watched as they came closer. Through the gaps in the front soldiers, I caught sight of what was behind them.
A man with blonde hair and large ears got pushed by another pack of soldiers behind him. Harsh chains covered his wrists and ankles, causing him to shuffle—his head bowed in defeat. The men passed by, and I did my best to sink back into the crowd. With a suddenness that surprised me, the leader halted the convoy. He stepped inside The Market building and disappeared.
The man with blonde hair stood not far away, his head slumped in front of him. Soldiers stood scanning the street as they waited for orders. People halted their activities, waiting in silence for what would happen next. Getting more nervous by the second, I took another step backward and bumped into the drink cart. The cart jostled from the impact, causing the woman to glare at me.
The blonde man’s head whipped up at the sound. His eyes found me in an instant. They were bloodshot and full of pain. I gasped in shock at the resignation on his face. He looked me over for a minute before mouthing words that would haunt me forever.
“Run,” he said in a soundless voice. There was no mistaking the word.
Breathing hard with panic, I forced myself to keep backing away slowly, the cup still clutched in my hand. No more attention needed to be drawn to me. When my back hit the wall of the building, I eased my way along it until I reached the corner. The soldiers were now out of earshot. I blew out a breath and turned around the corner, looking back to make sure no one was watching.
A wall of muscle slammed into my front side. Sweet blackberry juice splashed down my shirt before I even got to take a sip. The sticky concoction dripped onto the offending person’s boots. I jerked my eyes up to see who it was, but before I knew what was happening, the person’s hands grabbed onto my shoulders and pulled me the rest of the way around the corner.
Frightened by the move, I dropped my cup and reached for the knife strapped to my thigh, unable to get to my bow around my chest quick enough. I yanked it out and pointed it at the boy, who released his grip on my arms. He looked older than me and his face reminded me of someone that I couldn’t place. He had dark hair and tanned skin. The clothes he wore fit and didn’t have any holes like mine. I noticed the absence of any weapons on his person. He met my eyes, and they were full of concern.
I narrowed my eyes at him. What did he want? I had never seen him before. His face lifted into a huge grin as he looked at the knife in my hand. His white teeth glinted in the sunshine. With raised arms in surrender, he chuckled.
“Calm down. I was only trying to get you away from the soldiers.”
My eyes roamed over him in question for a few moments before I decided he was okay. I slid my knife back into its sheath at my thigh.
“Thanks a lot,” I said, wiping at my gray shirt that was now a shade darker. “I wanted to drink that, not wear it.”
His eyebrows furrowed in apology.
“Sorry about that. You came around the corner so fast.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away—I needed to get back to Pop.
“Wait.”
His words pulled me to a stop, and I turned—looking back at him to see what he wanted. It was rare that anybody wanted to talk to me in this town.
“I’m Diesel. I don’t think we’ve met before.”
“Nice to meet you, Diesel.” I tried to be civilized, like Nan and Pop always taught me. This might be my first actual conversation with anyone other than Nan and Pop. The muscle wall, named Diesel, stepped in front of me once more as I tried to make my escape.
“You know, it’s polite to share your name in return when meeting someone for the first time.”
The smirk on his face made my lips tug up into a grin. I liked him already.
“Ash.”
His eyes widened in shock for a millisecond before it was gone.
“Well, Ash. Since I so rudely spilled your drink all over you, could I buy you another one?”
I mulled it over for a moment before I answered.
“No thanks, I don’t want to go back out there with the goons in town. I was about to go find my dad. He’s probably worried.”
Calling Pop my dad sounded strange. He had always been Pop to me, but he was also the only dad I’d ever known.
“Can I at least walk with you to make sure you find him?”
His expression was full of sincerity, and I think he felt bad for dumping juice all over me.
“Sure,” I said with a shrug—for some reason, I didn’t mind his presence.
We turned and walked to the back of the building and down a side street to where I last saw Pop with Miles. There were no soldiers clogging up this part of town—for that, I was thankful. Pop still haggled with Miles as we approached. He saw me and his eyes lit in relief, then my wet shirt caught his eye.
“What happened to you?” he laughed. Diesel stepped up next to me and Pop’s face hardened. “Who’s this?” he asked through pursed lips.
“Diesel,” Mile’s voice sounded from behind Pop, surprising us all.
He stood and stepped around Pop to see the boy standing next to me. They stared at each other for a long moment before Miles cleared his throat.
“Henry, this is my son… Diesel. Diesel, this is Henry Evans.”
His appearance, which I couldn’t place earlier, clicked into place. They both had the same dark hair and green eyes. Diesel’s were a lighter shade and bright against his tanned skin.
“I didn’t know you had a son,” Pop sounded puzzled.
Miles nodded.
“I don’t get out much,” Diesel joked.
“He so kindly spilled my drink all over my shirt,” I said, glancing down at the sticky mess. Miles looked at me like he’d never heard me speak before—most likely because he hadn’t.
Diesel seemed embarrassed as he ran his hand through his hair. Just then, more commotion came from where we left the soldiers. We all turned our heads to investigate.
“Soldiers,” I whispered to Pop, who hadn’t seen them yet. He shot me an urgent expression.
“Well, it was good to see you, Miles.” He shook the man’s hand and inclined his head to Diesel. “And good to meet you, son. We better be going.”
We took our things, and I shot Diesel one last look. He smirked at me, and I smiled right back. We left and skirted around the soldiers on our way back to the cabin.
Chapter 1
Winter whispered through the pines, and the cold nipped at my fingertips. Spring was on the verge of blooming, and I couldn’t wait for the warmer weather. The leftover snow made for wet and treacherous walking as I worked my way across the terrain. Ugh, I hate the snow. I had on a large winter coat and my customary wool stocking cap today. Winters in the mountainous north were harsh and unforgiving, requiring several layers of clothing. I gripped my bow in my hand with my quiver slung across the pack on my back.
The bit of morning sunshine that glowed through the pines today brought a blessed break from the overcast days. Birds were cackling in the trees overhead; a sure sign that spring was imminent. The creek that ran by our cabin wasn’t overflowing with runoff yet, meaning we still had a few more weeks of cold to endure.
Trekking through the meadow below that cabin, I jumped over a narrowing in the creek without getting wet. The hillside opposite the cabin held deeper drifts. My knees brushed through the snow as I walked. Every step was a monumental effort with the snow this deep. It was melting, but there were spots that were still knee deep in wet, heavy snow. The southern-facing slopes were easier to navigate thanks to the sun’s afternoon heat. I used them to my advantage. Snow crunching under my boots and heavy breaths of exertion were the only noises filling the brisk morning air.
I had seen the elk yesterday, when scouting for more rabbits to get us through the winter. Another reason to hate the cold months—the hunger pangs that were a constant companion. Tracking down rabbits had been my number one priority all winter, to get us through until the big game migrated back for the summer. I practically jumped for joy when I spotted the large elk herd weaving through the high mountain terrain yesterday.
The elk were back, or at least, a herd was migrating through the area—maybe spring would come quicker than I thought.
As I made a slow pace up the mountain, the pines faded into sagebrush along the slope. I grabbed a handful of sage and crushed it in my hand, only to bring it to my nose and take a deep breath of the earthy scent. It smelled like home and freedom from long winter days in the cabin. Brush mountainsides made for better rabbit hunting, but that wasn’t my target today.
I left Nan alone back at the cabin early this morning. No one was around to help us anymore—it was only Nan and me.
Cedar Hill was an hour’s walk west of our cabin. It was the closest civilization. There weren’t many people, but enough to call it a town. Nan and I traded supplies there throughout the year.
We joined in on town celebrations and made the trip often during the summer to trade, fish, or for Nan to visit her friend. She told me I needed to stay as far away from people as possible, but living out here got lonely, so she made exceptions. I hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Nan in months. The long walk through the snow to get to town was difficult on Nan’s knee during the winter. For the last couple of months in the cabin, I had been content to stay put. Though, I didn’t know which was worse: stuck in a dank cabin all winter or freezing to death out in the snow. At least out in the snow, the sky was visible.
As I picked my way along yet another hillside, movement caught in the corner of my eye. I drew my bow, but it was only an owl settling into a distant pine. I studied the majestic creature for a minute, but something behind the tree caught my attention. On a distant mountain, an unnaturally dark, straight line of creatures moved through the landscape. There was only one species of animal around that moved like that.
Elk. Exactly where I thought they would go, after I spotted them yesterday.
Hope and excitement burned in my chest. I moved in their direction to get a better view. I wasn’t prepared for a large hunt when I saw them yesterday, with only the bare minimum of supplies in my pack. I watched them for as long as I could last night before returning to the cabin to pack my things, then I was off this morning.
Breathing hard, heart pounding from the labor of walking through the snow, I climbed up the ridge to see if their course was obvious. I knew these mountains like the back of my hand. Growing up out here with Pop and spending hours alone in these woods had served me well.
When I crested the top of the ridge, the vantage point allowed me to see which direction the distant brown specks traveled. There was another creek that ran down the valley they were meandering toward. I knew from experience that the elk often bedded down in that spot. I continued stalking toward them until I peeked over the ridge where they had disappeared.
No elk were visible at first glance, but they could have been lying under the pines—unlikely. My eyes hadn’t failed me yet. I snuck down the slope and into the creek bed—signs were everywhere that they had been there recently. The musky scent of elk lingered in the pines—fresh poop and tracks muddied the area, but they left, which surprised me. There was fresh water here, and the snow had melted off in the meadow, leaving good grass underneath. It looked like something scared them, but the only tracks visible were elk. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I hoped it was nothing that wanted to kill me.
The tracks wound along the creek and onto a side hill. Following the tracks was as simple as breathing. It was a large herd of about two hundred head, and snow was still on the ground—that many elk through the snow were not too hard to track.
The cover of the trees hid my presence as I followed. Close to where the tracks left the trees, the elk lay on the hillside in the thick brush for the night. The one closest to me twitched its ears, and it swung its head in my direction. The stillness of my body could rival an elk at that moment. It eventually decided no threat was around and turned away from me once more.
The temperature was plummeting, and my nose and feet ached with cold. My old hunting boots did little to keep the cold at bay and held too many holes. They were okay when I was moving and my blood was pumping, but sitting for so long had left my feet vulnerable to the cold.
The sun was getting low, and the world would be dark soon. Traveling in the woods at night had never bothered me as long as I was moving; but with the elk back, it meant the wolves would follow. They might even be here already, following the herd. A shiver raced down my spine at the thought. Predators had grown more aggressive over the years. Without guns, animal attacks grew deadly. The animals knew it too, and were more aggressive than ever—but it was either kill or be killed in the woods. There were no other options.
I didn’t enjoy the killing. The thrill of the chase and outwitting the animal was the part I loved. Letting the arrow fly and killing wore on me, but there wasn’t room for weakness out here.
Always make the most efficient kill. Pop’s words rang in my head. Lessen the animals’ suffering as much as possible—they are giving their lives to us. The least we can do is make it quick and painless. Advice that sank into my heart. I picked up shooting with a bow easily. Pop built me targets, and it didn’t take long for me to hit the center every time without fail. Then he took me on my first hunting trip when I was ten—much to Nan’s dismay. Spotting the game from a distance was easy, and I always did it quicker than Pop ever could. He said I had a gift for it. That was a memory I would always cherish. Pop taught me everything about being out in the woods, hunting, and surviving.
He believed in me more than I believed in myself most of the time. He taught me enough to keep me and Nan alive when he died in his sleep five years ago.
Pop was a man bigger than life—always telling me about his ideas for a better country. He didn’t let the current state of the world get him down. Working hard alongside Nan all his life, he loved her with all he had. His smile was contagious—I couldn’t help but smile anytime he was around. My fondest memories all involved him and Nan.
Nan thought that his heart gave out. Though we would never know for sure, it broke me and Nan. We buried him down in the meadow below the cabin on a cool, fall morning, sitting with him for hours, hoping it wasn’t real—that he wasn’t gone. Unfortunately, fall turned to winter, and we trudged on without him. Nan was so broken for so long. That was the darkest winter I could remember. I felt hopeless through the long winter days and nights, but sometimes life was just like that. A blur of days and nights where every day brings you closer to death, but you’re not really living, you simply exist.
When spring came, my determination to keep us alive turned resolute—I would replace Pop. Since that day when I was fifteen, Nan had been my sole purpose. She tried to come hunting with me—worried about me out there by myself, as she still was—but she couldn’t make it too long on her knee. Not to mention, she had no clue what she was doing. She stumbled through the brush like an ogre. We came to agree that it was better for me to go alone.
I owed everything to Nan and Pop. They raised me and taught me how to be brave and work hard. My adventurous spirit had been prone to wander when I was young; but when Pop died, my dedication turned to my family. I became less of the wild girl I once was and more of a girl driven by obligation. Hunting and exploring unknown parts of the woods was what I loved the most. The thrill of the chase and finding something new was what kept me going. Taking care of Nan brought me joy, but I felt part of me was missing.
Nan and Pop both grew up in Cedar Hill and got married when they were young. Pop went hunting one day when a thunderstorm rolled in. He got lost and stumbled upon an old hunting cabin, left behind when the world got thrust back into ancient times. The cabin wasn’t enormous, but it was perfect for them. They decided they should move into it and start a family. Unfortunately, they could never have children. They were happy, though—they had each other.
Until a little girl came stumbling into their lives.
I didn’t know where I came from or who my parents were. I wasn’t even sure of my actual age. All I had ever known was Nan and Pop and the little cabin.
Pop was on a hunting trip one day when he came across me in the woods. He said I was all alone, hiding under a tree. He searched the woods but couldn’t find any trace of anyone else. I was dirty and someone had shaved my head. Pop said I clutched onto Nan and wouldn’t let go when he returned. I didn’t speak for a long time or even remember my name. Nan thought I went through a trauma that wiped my memories—of course, I couldn’t remember any of this. They guessed I was around four years old when they found me.
No one ever came looking for me. There was never any news of a lost child. They didn’t know where I came from and neither did I. Part of me felt lost. I didn’t even recall the truth of my real name. The only name I had ever known was the one that Nan and Pop gave me.
Ash.
They named me after the color of my hair—so blonde it danced on the edge of silver. It started growing back soon after I arrived here. They noticed the color and swore to protect me.
I shook the thoughts of Pop out of my head so I could focus on the task at hand. Dusk crept up from the horizon, dimming the light and hiding my form as I tiptoed away from the elk. The trick now was finding a place warm enough to stay for the night.
Chapter 2
My guess was the elk would stay there until morning and come down to get a drink from the creek once the new day broke. If my guess was wrong, then I would have to be out here longer, following them until I got a decent shot. Archery hunting took a lot of time, patience, and outguessing your prey. Elk were fast and sneaky; capable of disappearing without a trace. They lived up to their name—ghosts of the pines. One moment they were as loud as an earthquake, crashing through the timbers and the next were gone.
As I made my way back down the creek, I spotted thick willows that would provide suitable cover for the night. Building a fire crossed my mind, but with the elk as close as they were, the scent would spook them. My bedroll was a small, foam pad with an old sleeping bag covered in canvas. My bedroll scuffed against a patch of semi-dry grass under a tree where the snow hadn’t reached, as I unrolled it. Willows surrounded the spot where my bed lay for the night. If anything came in the night, I could hear it coming through the bramble.
Thanks to whatever startled the elk out of the meadow earlier, I was further up Red Creek than I had ever been. Darkness descended on the world as my backside found the soft bed. Tonight, a full moon lit the sky, and visibility was high. I had always seen well at night, even with no moon in sight, and inky blackness thicker than the shadows.
The jerky we saved for hunting trips from my pack required a lot of chewing. The silence out here was peaceful, besides the obnoxious sound of my teeth mashing together. Nights were bad out in the woods—I had a hard time sleeping, and every sound made me jump.
After a while, my jaw hurt, and I gave up on my dinner with a sigh. The cold air licked my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I could endure it for tonight… it was something I was good at—enduring. The only problem was my boots and socks were damp from today’s hike and I didn’t have a fire to dry them.
My boots came off easily, but my socks required tugging to release from my damp feet. The extra pair of dry socks I pulled from my bag felt heavenly against my soggy skin—at least we had a few extra pairs of socks. Nan taught me to stay grateful for what we did have. If you complain, you will only find more things to complain about. If you find things to be grateful for, well, you’ll see life a little differently. They were words I remembered well after whining to Nan about not having any friends when I was younger.
I turned my boots upside down on a nearby log, hoping they would dry by morning. Crawling into my bedroll with my hat pulled all the way down, I settled in for the night. The only part of me that stuck out was my nose. The thought of covering it up made me feel like I would die of suffocation.
Why did nights in the forest feel like they would never end? Filled with hours of tossing, turning, and listening to the sounds of the night, tonight was no different. As I lay in bed, my body was bone-tired, but my mind was alive. Stories Nan shared over the years drifted through my mind, keeping me from the dark abyss of sleep.
The only form of education I received was from Nan. She taught me to read from old books that were left in the cabin and the few she brought when they moved from town. I could read and write well enough to get by, but most of my time was outdoors learning the basics of survival.
History lessons were also courtesy of Nan and Pop. They shared stories passed down from their parents. I had also learned a great deal from whispers in town. The world was a messed-up place. According to my adoptive parents, life was very different before it all went to hell.
Living was once a lot easier. Nan had mentioned something about lights that didn’t require fire or burning candles and water running through pipes into houses—probably only a myth. Food was once readily available and little work was required to obtain it, but that was years and years ago. I wasn’t even sure I believed the stories based on the world we lived in now.
A nasty virus broke out that brought the country to its knees. The sickness took millions of lives. No one nowadays knew what it was called or what happened when people got it, only that the death rate was astronomical. The virus wiped out the population in no time, forcing the world back into the dark ages.
The virus affected blonde people more. No one quite knew why the disease took so many blonde lives, but it almost wiped all of them off the face of the Earth. Something about mutated DNA, or so the rumors went.
Life changed. People had to learn to hunt and farm for their food again because everything that the country once was, had been destroyed. It baffled me that anyone wouldn’t know how to do these simple tasks. What did they do all day if they weren’t fighting for survival?
We lived in the northern part of a country whose name had been long forgotten. As far as I knew, the country was dotted with small towns like Cedar Hill, trying to survive. We didn’t know much about anything outside of our small town.
A city popped up at the time of the outbreak—called the City of Hope. It was the new government for the new world. It was weeks of travel to the south of where we lived. Hope took claim over the continent that we lived on, the people in charge asserting it as the capital city. According to legend, messengers went out, telling any blonde person they could find that was still alive to get to Hope. Claims spread that they would help them.
In a state of panic, blondes everywhere rushed to the city. An ex-soldier, named Titus Etan, infiltrated the group that led the city. Rumor was that he killed all the past leaders before coming to power and pronouncing himself King of the new world, and everyone was too afraid to defy him. He called his new kingdom Novum, giving the country a new name, and discarding the long-forgotten one. Soldiers were recruited, new laws written, and the continent changed forever.
No one really knew what happened in Hope after that, but we knew Titus contracted the virus soon after gaining power and died. His second in command, Leon Broderick, took over. He was power-hungry and cruel. King Leon put a bounty on anyone who was blonde. He promised that anyone who brought one in would be fed, safe, and wealthy for the rest of their life. Bounty hunters flocked the country, seeking strongholds of blonde people who didn’t fall victim to the virus.
The virus was wiped off the land nowadays. Anybody who was still alive had an immunity to it. Years later, we still had bounty hunters that roamed the country looking for blondes. The current King of Novum, Maximus, was a descendant of the original King Leon. I guess evil existed in one’s blood, though, because Maximus was as bad as Leon. He kept rewards for blonde people high. His soldiers scoured the country, enforcing laws where they saw fit and doing the King’s dirty work.
Blonde people were a novelty, or at least that was my theory. No one knew why the King wanted them so badly. My friend Marva had some wild theories about it; all I knew was blondes were as valuable as the last bit of hot tea on a cold morning. Everyone wanted a taste, but there were so few of them anymore, the truth was hard to find. That was why I had to stay hidden. The news would spread of a blonde in Cedar Hill, drawing in bounty hunters and soldiers alike.
Nan concocted a natural hair dye when they first found me to cover up my silver-blonde hair. It was full of charcoal and oak bark. It turned my hair into a dark brown color, but it only lasted for about two weeks if I didn’t get it wet before the blonde showed back through again. We had tried several formulas over the years to get the dye to stay longer, but my hair just wouldn’t hold it. Thankfully, my eyebrows and eyelashes were naturally dark, and there was no need to keep them dyed. Small miracles, I guess.
There might be more people out there, like me, that dye their hair, but it was hard to say.
Nan was religious about dying my hair every two weeks—I hated it. The smell was awful, and it burned my head. It surprised me that Nan had let it go this long without dye. It was a blessed break to let my hair be free for a couple of months.
The only people who knew about my hair were Nan and Pop. No one else could ever know, as long as they were still hunting for people like me.
I was always careful about only going to town right after it had been dyed, and I only had one friend who would look close enough to notice.
Thinking about my best friend brought a smile to my face.
Diesel. Five years older than me and one of the few people that dwarfed me with his size; a good six inches taller than me, with a hundred more pounds of muscle. Dark hair covered his head like everyone else, and stunning light green eyes adorned his face. Eyes a person could get lost in—not that we had ever been more than friends. I feared he saw me more as an annoying little sister than anything else.
I remembered the day we met in town, right before Pop died. He had always been there for me after that day. Diesel helped me through a lot of things in the days after Pop’s passing—he was a good friend.
We hunted or fished together often, and he was always at the cabin checking on me and Nan. I hadn’t seen him since the snow hit—probably the longest I had ever gone without him. I realized I missed my friend quite a lot.
Diesel lived on the opposite side of town, a short distance out. He and his dad moved into an abandoned house around the same time that Pop found me. He said that they were farmers from the South but left because the hunting and farming weren’t very good. We never talked about where they came from much.
Happy thoughts of Diesel floated through my head—calming me enough to drift off to sleep.
Chapter 3
I got out of bed long before sunrise with my head groggy and sleep deprived. Crisp water flowed past my lips as I drank, hoping it would clear my head. The hunt required sharpness that my sleepless brain didn’t possess at the moment.
My boots were still wet, with no hope of drying soon. At least my socks were dry, but the water would seep through soon enough. Get tough or die. Thanks, Pop, I needed the encouragement this morning. My stomach grumbled, and I ignored it for the millionth time. I rolled my bedroll and left it where I slept. I would come back for it later. It didn’t serve me for it to be catching on every twig as I went through the brush.
Darkness laid over the pines like a thick blanket when I set out after the elk, thankful for the full moon and my above-average vision—I could pick my way through the trees without a problem. My footfalls were slow and measured. One snapping branch could scare the beasts into next week. Just as I came back to the spot where the elk were hours earlier, the first rays of light broke through the darkness. The elk were easy to spy in the dim light: still lying on the side hill where I left them.
I crouched down and waited for them to move. The first elk stood and shook its tan, furry coat. It was a cow from the look of it, but it was difficult to tell the difference this time of year, as the bulls shed their antlers in the winter. They were still there—great news. I stashed my pack under a bush, leaving me with my bow and the knives that were strapped to my body.
Still in a crouch, I snuck forward—hunting was like a game full of moves and countermoves. Now, I waited for the elk to make the next move.
As it got lighter, they continued to stand up, one by one. The brown beasts were too focused on picking through the foliage on the side of the hill to notice me.
Movement on the top of the ridge above them startled me. Squinting my eyes, I saw a figure low to the ground that moved with ease through the brush. Please, not a wolf. Please, not a wolf. The elk seemed oblivious to the intruder. They continued to meander down toward the creek and where I took my position. Perfect. Now it was my turn to make a move, but I was still worried about the dark presence behind the herd.
I glanced back up at the intruder and the light glinted off the skin of the man’s face. A person—not a wolf—thank the heavens, though a man might not have been much better. Another hunter like me, making his way down through the brush on hands and knees toward the elk, oblivious to my presence. My anger skyrocketed. What was he doing? He would scare them all away, and neither of us would get a shot.
Someone interfering with my hunt was not part of the plan today. Not to mention the elk moved away from him and little hope remained of him catching them from behind.
From my vantage point by the creek, I guessed that the lead cow would make it to me before he snuck up on the stragglers.
Good. Rage simmered in my blood, warming my frozen fingers. Food for me and Nan could be gone because of this stranger. With one last angry glance at him, I shoved the stranger from my mind and positioned myself to take a smart shot. The lead cow continued her path toward the creek not far away, taking cautious, silent steps.
The thin breeze filtered into my face, meaning she wouldn’t smell my royal stink. She picked her way through the brush, stopping, eating, and sniffing every few feet. My body stiffened with stillness from my position next to a bush. In the last few steps before the creek, she turned her head away from me to look at the herd behind her. I took a split second to draw my bow before she turned back around.
She made it to the creek and put her head down to get a drink. This was my chance—there was nothing at that moment but me, my bow, and my target. I cleared my head and took a deep breath to clear the burning anger from my lungs. As the breath left my mouth, I took my shot. She stepped right as the arrow flew from my hand. Anticipating the movement perfectly, like I could see exactly what would happen—I watched my arrow stick in her heart.