Page 8 of Alien Huntsman

She managed to hide her shudder as Lenora checked her reflection in the small mirror by the door. Thank goodness the other woman’s jealousy meant that she’d avoided the dinner invitation. Although she was sure it would be an elaborate meal, she preferred vegetable soup to dining with Edgar any day.

“Don’t wait up,” Lenora added triumphantly as she swept out the door, leaving Tessa staring after her. There was something different about her stepmother tonight—a brittle excitement that made her uneasy.

Need her gone. Permanently.

Who could she want gone? Mrs. Peterson? Mrs. Jacobson? The new girl in the tavern who had supposedly been the victim of Edgar’s lechery?

Or… Her hands stilled on the cutting board. Could it be her? The thought sent ice through her veins. Lenora had never made a secret of her resentment, especially since Edgar had begun his unwanted attentions, but surely she wouldn’t go that far.

Despite her attempt to reassure herself, the thought continued to haunt her as she picked at the thin vegetable soup she’d made. Her appetite had vanished, replaced by a gnawing anxiety that tightened her throat. Lenora’s words and that strange man’s deep voice kept replaying in her mind.

After washing her bowl and spoon, she climbed up to her attic room, the creak of the wooden steps echoing in the quiet house.She’d once had a proper bedroom on the second floor, but Lenora had claimed it shortly after Father died, declaring she needed more space for her growing collection of dresses.

The attic ceiling sloped sharply on both sides, but despite the cramped quarters she’d managed to make the space her own. Dried flowers hung from the rafters, filling the air with their subtle fragrance. A small bookshelf held the few volumes she’d managed to save from her father’s collection before Lenora sold the rest. Her mother’s handkerchief, carefully framed, hung on the wall beside her bed.

Tonight, however, the familiar comfort of her sanctuary failed to calm her. She paced the small open area in the center of the room, her thoughts tumbling over each other, before moving to the room’s only window and looking out over the village. Lanterns glowed in windows, and smoke curled from chimneys into the night sky.

Moonlight spilled in through the glass, casting silver patterns across her faded quilt.

“What are you planning, Lenora?” she whispered, looking across to Edgar’s house—the largest in the village.

The man Lenora had been speaking with—could he have been the Vultor she’d bumped into at the market? The voice had seemed familiar, but she couldn’t be certain. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the mild spring evening. If Lenora truly wanted her gone, what would stop her? With Father gone, there was no one to protect her, no one who would even notice if she disappeared.

“Stop it,” she told herself. There was no point in borrowing trouble, and she had more important things to do tonight.

She changed into her darkest dress and wrapped a dark shawl around her shoulders, then hurried back down to the kitchen to collect the cloth sack of dried meat scraps she’d hidden away. The pups would be hungry by now.

Normally she had to wait until Lenora retired before sneaking out of the house, but with any luck her stepmother would be gone for hours. If Lenora happened to return first, it wouldn’t be the first time Tessa had climbed up the wooden lattice attached to the side of the house. The trellis, overgrown with ivy, had become her secret escape route over the past few weeks.

She ducked out into the alley, keeping to the shadows as she reached the lane leading out of the village. The abandoned woodshed lay at the far edge of the village, near the tree line where the forest began its climb up into the mountains. No one ventured there anymore—not since old Mr. Hemlock had died last winter and his property had fallen into disrepair.

The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly prickled, and she glanced over her shoulder. Nothing. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, and she quickened her pace, slipping between two buildings and cutting across a small field.

The woodshed appeared ahead, a dark silhouette against the night sky. Her nerves still on edge, she approached cautiously, listening for any sound besides the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. Again, that strange sensation washed over her—eyes following her movements from somewhere in the darkness.

She hesitated, scanning the tree line. Was that a shadow moving among the pines? She tried desperately to penetrate the darkness beneath the trees but couldn’t see anything. She decided she was letting her imagination get the better of her and hurried the rest of the way to the woodshed.

The door creaked as she eased it open. Inside, tiny whimpers greeted her, and seven pairs of eyes reflected the moonlight that streamed through gaps in the wooden walls. The adyani pups tumbled toward her, their small bodies vibrating with excitement.

“Hello, little ones,” she whispered, kneeling to meet them. “Did you miss me?”

They swarmed over her, their soft bodies warm against her hands as she laughed and tried to pet each of them at once. A quick look around confirmed that the woodshed remained exactly as she’d left it that morning—half the roof sagging dangerously, moonlight streaming through the gaps in the weathered planks. She’d reinforced one corner with old blankets and straw, creating a nest where the pups could huddle together.

“Here you go,” she murmured, pulling the dried meat from her pocket. She tore it into smaller pieces, distributing it evenly among the seven hungry mouths. Their needle-sharp teeth grazed her fingertips as they snatched the offerings.

The smallest pup, whom she’d named Bashful, struggled to get his share. She scooped him up, cradling him against her chest while feeding him directly.

“You need to be quicker,” she whispered, stroking his silvery fur. “Your brothers won’t always wait.”

Most villagers would be horrified to find her here. The adyani had a fearsome reputation—wild predators that occasionally descended from the mountains to prey on livestock. Stories of their viciousness circulated amongst the children, tales meant to keep them from wandering too far into the forest.

But when she’d found the pups, their eyes barely open and their mother dead, she couldn’t leave them. They would have died without her help.

“You’re not monsters,” she told them, watching as they finished their meal and began to play, tumbling over each other in mock battles. “You’re just trying to survive, like the rest of us.”

The largest pup, Storm, bounded up to her, planting his front paws on her knee. His eyes glowed green in the darkness, intelligent and curious. She scratched behind his ears, smiling as he leaned into her touch. In taking care of the pups, she’d found something she’d been missing since her father died—a sense of being needed, of having something to love.

The moonlight flickered outside one of the gaps in the woodshed wall, and her heart lurched against her ribs. She squinted into the darkness through the gap. Was that a shadow shifting between the trees? She held her breath, straining to hear any sound beyond the pups’ playful growls.

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