Those Who Watch in the Dark

Hunger has no honor.

When it claws at your stomach, it erases shame, pride—even caution.

I’d been hiding in a hollow cave for two days, drinking the water that dripped from a sweating ceiling. I hadn’t eaten since. Every time I stood up, the world tilted.

The memory of the dead noble haunted me in waves. His eyes. The blood. The soldier’s voice.
But more than that: their certainty.

They were sure I was guilty.
And I… I was starting to doubt my own innocence.

Not because I had killed.
But because I’d been there.
Because I was alive.

On the third night, I finally left the forest.

The moon was high. The mist, thicker than ever.
And still, I heard it—a faint clicking sound. A quick movement.

I froze.

Not an animal.

A trap.

And a person.

I crouched in the shadows, barely breathing.

A figure was kneeling beside a burrow. Small, quick. Hood pulled tight.
She reached out—snap!
She pulled out a rabbit caught in a wire.

Then she spoke.

— You can stop holding your breath. I’ve felt you for thirty heartbeats.

I didn’t move.

— If you’re thinking of stealing my rabbit, good luck. I’ve got three more traps in the area. And a blade faster than your hunger.

I stepped out of the bushes, slowly.

She turned. A young woman, barely older than me, steady eyes, cheeks smudged with ash. A bow hung across her back.

She looked at me without fear. Like I was just a clumsy boar.

— Who are you? she asked.

I stayed silent.

— You don’t look like a soldier. But you’ve got the eyes of someone who’s killed. That’s rare.

My heart stopped.

She raised an eyebrow.

— Relax. I’ve killed too. Difference is—they deserved it.

A pause.

Then she sighed, and tossed me the rabbit.

— Here. You look closer to dying than I do.

I caught it without a word.

She sat against a rock and pulled out a flask.

— Name’s Eryn. You, walking corpse?

I looked down.

— …Kael.

She nodded.

— Alright. Now that we’ve got names, tell me: should I be worried about you, or helping you ditch someone?

I looked up. She stared at me with unnerving calm.

No fear. No pity. Just… clarity.

— I didn’t do anything. He died before I could save him.

She smiled—almost sadly.

— Then yeah. You’re screwed.