The Hunt I Can’t Outrun

Kain Rivel crouched behind his shack's door, peering through a crack as dusk painted Rivermist in shadows. He'd spent the day plotting his escape—ditch the dual axes, slip out under cover of night, and vanish before Mya Seraphine dragged him on her insane "hunt." The axes lay in a heap by his cot, unbuckled from that wretched harness. His chest ached from coughing, his limbs felt like lead, but he'd rather die lost in the woods than face her blade again.

"She's out there," he muttered, spotting her silhouette near the square. Mya sharpened her sword by torchlight, her silver hair glowing, her movements precise. She'd promised a hunt today, and Kain had no illusions—she'd hunt him if he ran. In The Blade of Eternity, her hunts were legendary—tracking beasts with Leon, carving paths through danger. Kain wasn't a beast or a hero. He was prey.

A knock jolted him. "Kain!" Tobin's voice boomed. "The swordmaster's ready! Grab your axes!"

"No!" Kain hissed, pressing against the door. "Tell her I'm sick! Tell her I'm gone!" But Tobin barged in, dragging him out by the arm. The harness clattered as Tobin slung it over his shoulder, axes dangling.

"None of that!" Tobin grinned, buckling the harness tight. "You're our axe hero! Time to shine!"

"I'll shine when I'm dead!" Kain rasped, stumbling as the axes pulled him off-balance. Tobin hauled him to the square, where a crowd waited, buzzing with anticipation. Mya stood at the edge, sheathing her sword, her violet eyes locking on him.

"There you are," she said, her smile curling like a blade's edge. "I thought you'd run."

"I tried," Kain muttered, coughing into his sleeve. The axes clanked, drawing cheers. "Can't we skip this? I'm not built for hunting!"

"You're built for more than you think," she said, stepping closer. She adjusted his harness, her fingers brushing his chest. "We're tracking a boar. A small one. Prove yourself."

"Prove what?" he yelped, hefting an axe. It wobbled, nearly hitting his foot. "I can't kill a boar! I can't kill a fly!"

The villagers laughed. "Humble Kain!" Marta called. "He'll slay it with one swing!"

"No, I won't!" he shouted, but Mya grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward the forest. The crowd followed, chanting his name.

"Stay close," she said, her voice low. "And keep those axes ready."

"Ready for what? Tripping?" he wheezed, but she led him into the trees, her stride confident. The forest loomed dark and thick, branches snapping underfoot. Kain clutched the axes, their weight dragging his steps. Every rustle made him jump—boars, wolves, or Mya's wrath, he didn't know which scared him more.

They stopped at a clearing. Mya pointed to tracks in the mud—hoofprints, fresh. "There," she said. "Your prey."

"My prey?" Kain's voice cracked. "That's a death sentence!" He raised an axe, arms trembling. "I can't—" A cough doubled him over, and one axe slipped, thunking into a tree trunk.

The crowd—lurking at the forest's edge—gasped. "He's marking the hunt!" Gorrin yelled.

"I'm marking my grave!" Kain snapped, yanking the axe free. Mya's laugh, soft and chilling, cut through the noise.

"Focus," she said, circling behind him. "Listen. It's near."

Kain froze. A grunt rumbled from the bushes—low, guttural. A boar burst out, tusks glinting, charging straight for him. He screamed, swinging an axe wildly. The blade missed, spinning into the dirt as he tripped backward. The boar veered, startled, and rammed a tree instead, squealing.

Mya moved—swift, silent. Her sword flashed, and the boar dropped, blood pooling. She sheathed her blade, turning to Kain, who sprawled in the mud, coughing.

"You drew it out," she said, her smile widening. "Good."

"Drew it out?" he rasped, clutching the remaining axe. "I fell! You killed it!"

The villagers rushed in, cheering. "Kain flushed it for her!" Tobin roared. "A team effort!"

"No team!" Kain yelled, staggering up. "I'm the victim here!"

Mya knelt beside him, wiping blood from her sword onto her cloak. "Victim," she murmured, her eyes glinting. "Yet you survived. Again." She grabbed his fallen axe, pressing it into his hands. "You're stronger than you admit."

"I'm not!" he pleaded, the axe slipping again. "I'm weak! Look at me!"

She caught his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I am looking," she said, her voice soft but edged. "And I see potential." Her fingers tightened, possessive. "We hunt again tomorrow."

"Again?" Kain's knees buckled, the axes dragging him down. "I can't do this!"

"You will," she said, standing. "I'll make you." She walked off, leaving him in the mud as the villagers hauled the boar away, singing his praises.

Kain crawled to his feet, the axes clanking. "I need to run," he thought, lungs burning. "Farther. Tonight." He glanced at Mya—she paused at the tree line, glancing back, her smile a warning. She knew.

He limped to his shack, slamming the door. "She's a monster," he muttered, unbuckling the harness. The axes thudded to the floor. "I'll ditch these. Sneak out. She can't—" A cough racked him, and he slumped, exhausted.

Outside, Mya's voice drifted through the wall. "Rest well, Kain," she called, too close. "You'll need it."

Kain buried his face in his hands. The axes gleamed in the dim light, mocking him. Escape slipped further away, and Mya's hunt—her real hunt—closed in.