Tracking the Beast

Harper eagerly pushed up the wooden lid. A sudden rush of anticipation warmed her chest. She leaned forward, scanning the inside, expecting to see a row of canned meat, a rare crafting blueprint, or maybe even a solid block of chocolate.

Her hopeful smile faded.

The interior was bare. She found no rusty nails. She found no scraps of useful material. A thin layer of white frost simply coated the bottom of the crate. The empty space stared back up at her like a silent punchline.

Before she could even reach inside, the wooden box vanished. It did not break down into usable lumber; it simply dissolved into thin air right before her eyes, leaving nothing but a rectangular imprint in the snow.

"You have got to be kidding me," she fumed. Her voice carried a sharp edge of irritation. She had trudged through deep, subzero snow for half a mile. Her nose was frozen numb, her muscles ached, and she received zero reward for the risk.

"Definitely cursed. My luck is cursed."

She gripped the handle of her hand axe and poked the empty space where the crate used to rest. She swept the snow away, just to confirm there wasn't a hidden compartment buried beneath the powder. She found nothing but frozen dirt.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She let out a long breath, watching it plume white in the freezing air.

"Whatever. Keep moving. Find something else," she muttered.

She lifted a gloved hand to brush the snow off her winter coat. Just as she moved, a faint rustling sound broke the dead silence of the frozen wasteland. It came from a nearby cluster of dead bushes.

Harper's body went rigid. Her leather-gloved grip tightened hard on the wooden handle of her axe.

"Who's there?" she demanded.

Dropping into a low crouch, she crept toward the origin of the sound. The snow crunched faintly beneath her boots. She kept her eyes peeled, scanning the brush. Five yards out, the snowdrift erupted.

A tan blur burst from the powder. Harper locked onto the moving target.

It was a young deer. Its long, slender legs struggled briefly in the deep drifts before catching their footing on the icy crust beneath.

"That's meat," Harper realized. Her eyes widened with sudden hunger. Still angry over the empty joke of a crate, she decided right then she wasn't about to let this walking meal sprint away.

The Agility 9 stat she had earned kicked in. Harper pushed off the frozen ground, tearing across the snow with enhanced speed.

"Get back here!" she screamed.

She wasn't as graceful as the panicked animal, but her boots gripped the ice well. Her leveled-up leg muscles propelled her forward with raw force. She closed the gap, her eyes fixated on the brown hide. Human versus deer in a snow plain sprint.

The terrified deer bolted straight for a tangled stand of coniferous trees up ahead. Harper knew the terrain. If that animal made it into the obstacle-filled darkness of the woods, she would lose it in seconds.

Harper made a split-second call.

"Not happening," she growled.

She forced her sprint to a dead stop, boots sliding a few inches in the snow. She wound up her throwing arm, muscles bunching tight under her coat, and hurled her hand axe with everything she had in her level two muscles.

The steel blade spun through the freezing air in a deadly arc.

A wet thunk rang out. The blade sank deep into the deer's hind leg. Bright red blood sprayed, painting the pristine white snow.

The animal screamed in agony. It stumbled hard, pitching sideways into a drift. But the severe wound only kicked its survival instinct into overdrive. Dragging the bleeding limb, it hobbled into the dark tree line and disappeared from sight.

It took her weapon right with it.

Harper stood still. She stared at the shadowy woods, her jaw locked tight.

"It got away. And it took my axe. My imported axe," she said. She refused to accept the loss. That weapon was her lifeline out here, a tool she could not afford to lose.

"No. That deer is dead or alive, and I'm getting my axe back."

She yanked her spare axe from her belt. She gripped the cold handle, her eyes tracking the ground. A visible blood trail splashed across the white drifts, pointing straight into the dim forest.

Harper plunged into the shadows. The light dropped the moment she crossed the tree line. The air felt colder, trapped beneath the thick canopy of ancient pines. She followed the crimson splatters, weaving through the thick trunks until the trail led directly toward the base of a massive pine tree ahead.

Harper slowed her pace. Holding her breath, she crept quietly around the thick trunk and froze in place.

The bleeding deer lay on the ground, sides heaving, blood pooling slowly around it.

But it wasn't alone.

A teenage girl crouched defensively over the dying animal. She wore rough clothing stitched from animal hides and broad leaves, leaving her arms and shoulders exposed to the biting cold. Pale magical patterns marked her bare skin. Tiny flowers were threaded through her messy, blue-purple hair.

Harper's eyes caught the dead giveaways to her nature. A furry tail curled behind her back, flicking with tension. Atop her head, pointed ears twitched back and forth, tracking every sound in the forest.

An elf? Harper's mind raced, trying to process the visual anomaly. Some kind of beast-girl?

The strange girl positioned herself on all fours, mimicking a wild cat guarding a fresh kill. Her lips peeled back, baring two fangs at Harper.

"Uh... hey," Harper said aloud. She kept her voice even, pointing a single finger directly at the bleeding deer. "That's mine."

The wild girl clearly didn't understand the English words, but the intent got through.

A low growl rumbled deep in the girl's throat. Her amber eyes burned with hostility. She lowered herself even further to the ground, her muscles coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.

Harper tightened her grip on her spare axe. Her mind flashed a single, dreaded thought.

Oh no...