Shadows in the Hunt

X

I pulled the car to a stop outside a small roadside eatery, the kind of place that didn't draw much attention. The parking area was a chaotic mess—vehicles scattered haphazardly across patches of grass or crammed along the edges of the road. Through the window, I spotted the eatery, a modest structure attached to what looked like a family's home.

I parked at the far edge of the lot, away from the clutter. It meant more walking, but it also gave me a cleaner escape route if things went sideways. Taking no chances, I pocketed my keys, grabbed my wallet from the backpack, and gently unbuckled Leon from his car seat. He stirred as I lifted him into my arms but didn't wake.

After double-checking that the car was locked, I slung the backpack over one shoulder and started toward the eatery. The smell of cooking meat and spices drifted on the air, mixing with the faint tang of gasoline from the nearby vehicles. Leon felt warm against me, his tiny face nestled into my jacket.

The place wasn't much, but it was exactly what I needed—safe, unassuming, hidden in plain sight. No one would expect anything significant to happen here.

The ground crunched under my boots as I walked toward the entrance, passing a couple of old pickup trucks and a dusty minivan. A few people sat on plastic chairs outside, eating quietly. They barely glanced in my direction.

Good.

I adjusted the wig, making sure it sat snugly on my head, and pushed open the door. The warm air inside carried an even stronger scent of food. A handful of tables were scattered around, most of them empty except for a group seated in the far corner.

Behind the counter stood a middle-aged woman, her hands busy wiping a stained apron. She glanced up briefly and gave me a polite smile, her gaze flicking back to her work almost immediately.

Just another customer passing through.

I approached the counter, Leon still cradled against my chest, his small hand clutching at my jacket.

"Just a meal," I said, keeping my voice calm and low even though my thoughts raced. "And something to drink."

The woman nodded absently, jotting down my order. "Curry and rice? Maybe a soda?"

"Yeah, that'll do."

She didn't ask any questions. People in places like this rarely did. It was one of the reasons I preferred them—fewer prying eyes, fewer memories of my face to pass along if anyone came asking later.

With Leon still in my arms, I found a seat in the far corner of the room. My back pressed against the wall, giving me a clear view of the entrance and anyone who might walk through it.

Leon shifted slightly, his small hands curling into my shirt. His aura flickered faintly, reaching out in subtle waves. I could feel it responding to my own tension, instinctively attuned to the unease I tried to suppress.

I smoothed his hair, holding him a little closer. My heartbeat thudded in my chest, steady but heavy. He didn't understand yet, but aura had its own language—one that didn't need words, especially between family.

As I waited, I let my eyes scan the room. The eatery was quiet, save for the soft murmur of conversation from the group in the corner and the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen. It felt safe for now, but I didn't trust that feeling. Safety was an illusion, and I couldn't afford to let my guard down.

Two weeks. That was all I had to get us to the next step. Two weeks to prepare for what came next.

I adjusted Leon in my arms, watching the door, waiting.

The smells of curry and freshly baked bread filled the small eatery, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the occasional clatter of utensils. I glanced around the room, my eyes drifting from table to table. Families sat scattered, sharing quiet meals. A couple of truckers occupied a table near the back, heads down, focused on their plates. No one seemed out of place. No one looked my way.

Still, the nagging feeling wouldn't leave, like the weight of a gaze I couldn't quite pinpoint.

I told myself I was being paranoid.

But paranoid was better than dead.

I shifted my focus to Leon, his small face tucked against my chest, his eyes starting to flutter open. He let out a soft babble, his tiny hands reaching for my jacket. I forced a smile, even though my mind was still running through the exits and contingencies.

"It's just a quick stop, little guy," I said softly. "After this, we'll be on the road again. Just need to fuel up and keep moving. No one will even know we were here."

He babbled again, a sound too sweet and innocent for the life we were living. It grounded me, reminded me of why I was doing all this. Every risk, every sacrifice, was for him—and for Leora. Nothing else mattered.

Minutes passed. The air in the eatery was warm and filled with the quiet chatter of strangers. Leon's soft whimper pulled me from my thoughts. He was awake now, and I knew that sound all too well.

Hungry.

I reached into my jacket, pulling out a bottle of milk I'd prepared earlier. His little hands grabbed it eagerly, and he started drinking, his new teeth gnawing at the nipple as he sucked. I'd already noticed a small hole forming from all the chewing. Another thing to add to the list.

The waitress approached, balancing a plate of steaming curry and rice in one hand and a basket of bread in the other. She set them down in front of me with practiced ease, flashing a polite smile.

"How old is he?" she asked suddenly, nodding toward Leon.

I hesitated, wary of where this conversation might go. "Two," I replied.

She laughed softly. "I don't want to sound like a Karen, though, well… my name is Karen," she said, rolling her eyes. "But you might want to start weaning him off that bottle. Look at him go! He's adorable, but if he keeps it up, he might get a fixation. My eldest didn't give up his bottle until he was seven, and let me tell you, he was a handful. Always chewing on pens and picky with food."

"Seriously?" I asked, not sure whether to take her advice or brush it off.

"Seriously. I've got three kids. Trust me, you don't want that battle later."

I sighed, glancing down at Leon as he chugged away. He'd been on solids for a few months now, but the bottle was still his comfort. I'd tried to wean him off before, but the crying… it wasn't worth it.

Karen smiled, hands on her hips. "How about I hold him while you eat? Give you a break?"

I shook my head. "Thanks, but no. I wouldn't want to bother you."

"Your loss," she said with a shrug, heading back toward the counter.

I tore off a small piece of bread, holding it out for Leon to nibble on between sips. This was my life now—one hand feeding my kid, the other holding a spoon. It wasn't glamorous, but it was ours.

I ate quickly, my eyes flicking back to the room between bites. The truckers were still hunched over their plates. The families were still immersed in their meals. Everything seemed normal, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't stay that way.

I nodded my thanks to Karen as she passed by again, but my focus remained split—on Leon in my arms and the room around me. Always watching, always ready.

Paranoid was better than dead.

The aroma of curry filled the air as I tore into my meal, my focus divided between the plate in front of me and the muted football game playing on the TV mounted in the corner. Most of the other patrons were absorbed in their own worlds—scrolling through their phones, chatting softly, or simply eating. The relaxed atmosphere almost felt normal. Almost.

Then the game cut out.

The screen flickered, replaced by the familiar red banner of a breaking news alert.

"Breaking News! A forest fire has erupted on the Mivah Mountains early this morning, at approximately nine o'clock—"

My hand froze mid-bite, the fork suspended in the air.

Mivah Mountains.

The blood drained from my face.

The fire wasn't mine. Sure, I'd caused a controlled burn to cover our tracks, but I'd been meticulous about keeping it contained. Only what needed to be burned was burned, and I'd ensured there was no chance of residual flames spreading. This fire—this sprawling, destructive inferno reaching down the mountain's base—was something else entirely.

There was only one explanation.

Hunters.

My pulse quickened, a cold dread settling in my chest. Trackers, more specifically. They were closing in, and fast. The precision and speed with which they'd picked up my trail after two years of careful evasion were unsettling. I'd been meticulous, staying under the radar, avoiding even the faintest hint of an aura signature. But now, their desperation—or determination—had escalated.

The forest fire wasn't just a tactic to flush us out. It was a message. A warning to other hunters: The chase is on. Probably claiming 'stake' on my head that I was their hunt.

Competition for my capture—or death—had begun.

I forced my expression to stay neutral, glancing down at Leon. He was still happily munching on a piece of bread, blissfully unaware of the danger closing in on us. His innocence was both a comfort and a burden. I couldn't let him feel my fear, couldn't let him sense how badly I wanted to bolt out the door and run.

No sudden moves. Not yet.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the facts. Trackers. The most relentless kind of Seekers. They didn't need a big trail to find you—just a whiff of aura, a disturbed air current, or a trace of heat from your presence. They could piece together your location from clues so small you'd never know you left them behind.

The fact they were already combing the Mivah Mountains meant they were close. Too close.

I shoved another forkful of curry into my mouth, forcing myself to eat quickly but not so quickly as to draw attention. The urgency pounded in my chest, but I kept my movements measured. When Karen returned with an off-brand soda, her usual nosiness was blessedly absent.

I paid her for the meal, leaving a little extra as a tip. She smiled, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

Leon babbled as I scooped him up, his small arms wrapping around my neck. "Come on, buddy," I murmured, grabbing my bag and heading for the door. My boots crunched on the gravel as I made my way to the car, the weight of the news segment still pressing down on me.

Once Leon was strapped securely into his seat, I slid into the driver's side and locked the doors, my fingers twitching against the button for good measure.

The engine roared to life, and I pulled out of the lot, merging onto the highway. My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror every few seconds, scanning for anything unusual. No tail yet. But that didn't mean I could relax.

The image of the fire played over and over in my mind—the timing, the scale, the sheer devastation. I hadn't stuck around to watch the full broadcast, but I didn't need to. It was recent. Immediate. A threat.

I popped open the can of soda Karen had given me, chugged it down, and crushed it in my hand. The metallic crumple felt oddly satisfying as I chucked it out the window.

I had to stay ahead. If they were close, I needed to widen the gap. If they were still behind, I had to put more distance between us.

The only thing I couldn't do was stop.

I gripped the wheel tighter, my jaw set. Every mile mattered now. Every second counted.

I just had to keep moving.

…

Several days later, I was still on the run.

The dim light of the motel room cast long shadows across the walls as I sat on the edge of the bed, Leon cradled in my arms. His small, warm body pressed against mine, his breathing soft and even. The clock on the nightstand read 5:02 a.m., and outside, the world was still cloaked in darkness.

Forty-eight hours. Two days until the meet-up with Leora. I repeated it like a mantra, clinging to the thought as if it could somehow anchor me. Just two more days.

I hadn't planned on staying here long—just a few hours of sleep before hitting the road again. But as I passed through the motel's narrow hallways earlier, I saw them. Three figures standing near my car, their posture too stiff, their movements too deliberate. They weren't just loitering. They were studying the vehicle, and that was enough to set my nerves on edge.

I should've swapped cars by now. Changed the plates. Taken every precaution. But exhaustion and complacency had crept in, dulling my instincts. Now I was paying the price.

Leon stirred in his sleep, a soft whimper escaping his lips. I held him closer, whispering a quiet reassurance he couldn't hear. My mind raced, calculating my next move.

The car was compromised, which meant my options were limited. I couldn't risk a confrontation, not with Leon to think about. The hunters might not have confirmed I was here yet, but that window was closing fast.

I glanced around the room, searching for anything I could use. My eyes landed on the motel phone. Picking it up, I dialed the front desk, keeping my voice calm and steady.

"Hi, this is room 909," I said. "I think I left my headlights on. Could you send someone to check?"

The receptionist sounded groggy and confused but agreed. It wasn't much, but it might distract the hunters long enough for me to slip out.

Hanging up, I adjusted Leon in my arms and grabbed my bag. The fire exit was my only option now.

The metal steps of the fire escape creaked under my weight as I descended, each sound setting my teeth on edge. The narrow staircase wasn't made for someone carrying an infant, but I managed, moving as carefully as I could. When I reached the bottom, I found myself in a grimy alley, the air thick with the smell of rotting food and damp concrete.

Leon stirred again, his aura flickering faintly. I tapped into our Soul Link, drawing on his energy. His warmth flowed into me, steadying my nerves and sharpening my senses. The faint threads of aura around us came into focus—the stray cats skulking near the trash bins, the rats darting through the shadows.

I reached out, weaving their auras into mine. It wasn't much, but it was enough to create a web of confusion. To a tracker, it would look like a chaotic mess of overlapping energy, too jumbled to decipher.

I kicked one of the trash bins, sending it clattering loudly to the ground. The noise startled the strays, and they scattered in all directions, their auras flaring briefly before fading into the distance. It was a calculated move—enough to muddy the waters for anyone trying to pinpoint our location.

With the distraction in place, I compressed my own aura, pulling it tight and small until it was almost imperceptible. My Trickster Aura wasn't perfect, but it was effective. To anyone scanning for us, we'd feel like just another mundane pair, indistinguishable from the background noise of the world.

I moved through the alley, slow and deliberate, blending into the shadows. The hunters wouldn't expect me to circle back toward the motel, but that's exactly what I did. Hugging the walls, I kept my steps light and my presence minimal.

Then I saw them.

The three figures I'd spotted earlier. They were hunters, no doubt about it. Their auras were sharp and distinct, each one radiating a different kind of power. The brute in the tank top was the most obvious, his energy raw and unrefined, like a hammer looking for something to smash. The other two were more cautious, their movements precise, their focus intense.

But they didn't see me.

"Out of the way!" the brute barked, shoving past me without so much as a glance.

I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest as they ran by, too fixated on the false trail I'd left behind to notice the real target standing right there.

It worked. They'd taken the bait.

I didn't let myself feel relief. Not yet. There was no telling how long the distraction would last, and I still had to figure out my next move.

The motel loomed behind me, a reminder of my dwindling options. I needed a new plan. Fast.

~010