Hunter
Kael's amber eyes flicked upward, scanning the canopy as sunlight pierced through the branches. Despite the calm surrounding him, his mind was anything but. A storm raged within, a battle he couldn't seem to win. He couldn't explain why he had helped her—the girl. It made no sense. She was young, reckless, and completely unprepared for what she was. And yet, he'd acted without hesitation.
His hands clenched into fists as he replayed the moment in his mind. He'd been out hunting, tracking the faint trails of prey when the smell of blood hit him like a wave. It was sharp, fresh, and one of his kind. His ears had caught the sounds of a struggle—snarls, growls, the unmistakable scream of a mountain lion. Curiosity might have been what drove him forward at first, but when he saw her, it was something else entirely.
She'd been a mess—injured, clumsy in her movements, and yet somehow defiant. Watching her bare her teeth and raise her hackles at him had almost made him laugh. The memory brought a faint smirk to his lips now, but it quickly faded. She was practically still a cub, barely aware of what she was or what she was capable of. Helping her would only bring him trouble, and trouble was the last thing he needed.
Kael stopped beside a stream, kneeling to cup his hands and splash cool water on his face. The shock of it grounded him, if only for a moment. He'd lived his life by one rule: survival. Keep your head down, stay out of the way, and trust no one. It had served him well for years, keeping him alive when so many of his kind had been hunted down. There were communities, of course, hidden enclaves where their kind lived together, away from human eyes. Some argued that living together was more natural for their kind, a way to preserve their heritage and protect each other from the dangers of the outside world. These communities often had strict rules, hierarchies, and rituals meant to maintain order and secrecy. Others, like Kael, believed that isolation was safer—that being alone meant fewer risks of exposure and betrayal. The tension between these ideals created divisions among their kind, with neither side willing to fully trust the other.
And now this. A girl who didn't know the first thing about surviving, let alone what it meant to be one of them. Why had he intervened? Why had he brought her back to the shack instead of leaving her to fend for herself?
His reflection in the water stared back at him, the firelight in his eyes dimmed by the memory of seeing her covered in blood. She was different. That much he was certain of. There was a pull, something deep and primal that drew him to her. It was unsettling, and Kael didn't like feeling unsettled.
He stood, brushing the water from his hands and continuing deeper into the woods. The forest felt like home, its shadows and scents familiar and comforting. But even here, he couldn't escape the gnawing feeling that he was getting himself into something he couldn't walk away from.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, the frustration spilling over. He hadn't asked for this. He hadn't asked for her.
Kael's pace quickened as he tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to him like the scent of smoke after a fire. He couldn't deny that he was drawn to her, even if he didn't understand why. Maybe it was her tenacity, her stubborn refusal to give up even when the odds were stacked against her. Or maybe it was something deeper, something he didn't want to admit.
Whatever it was, it had already set things in motion. Helping her was a mistake—he knew that much. But it was a mistake he couldn't seem to take back.