Could have cut her throat, broken her neck, or taken her weapon. Instead, he had left her alive—and left her a marker so she would know exactly how badly she had lost.
Max stepped toward her. “I wasn’t hiding from you,” he said quietly, looking her straight in the eye. “I let you fail to find me. Take me to Mother.”
The first trial was over. Radmila crushed the bark in her fist until it crumbled. In her eyes, usually so controlled, burned humiliation and anger.
She had always been the best hunter in the clan. No one had ever come up behind her in her own forest.
And this outsider, stripped of weapons and proper clothing, had not just outplayed her. He had made her look helpless in front of her own people. “Move,” she said through her teeth, turning sharply.
Vlasta and Zora stepped aside to let Max pass. The contempt in their eyes was gone. In its place was caution—and respect.
The animal they had thought cornered had turned out to be a predator of a higher order. They returned to the settlement with the sun already lighting the square. People were gathering near the main house.
Dara stood on the porch, leaning on her staff. Her pale eyes took in the approaching group. She saw the mud-soaked, chilled Max.
She saw the rigid back of Radmila walking ahead of him. She saw the confusion on the faces of the other hunters. “He’s alive,” Mother said with quiet satisfaction.
“He hid in mud near the boundary,” Radmila answered sharply, not meeting Dara’s eyes. “A cheap trick. Not the act of a real warrior.”
Dara shifted her gaze from Radmila to Max. He stood there calmly, not even trying to wipe himself off or warm up, though his body still trembled from the cold.
“A trick that keeps a fighter alive is worth respecting,” Dara said, striking the stone with her staff. “The forest does not judge by our rules. It judges by results.”
“You survived, outsider. You pass the first trial.” A low, uneasy murmur moved through the crowd.
The women whispered and looked at Max from the corners of their eyes. The old prophecy, which many had only half believed, was beginning to feel uncomfortably real. “Take him back,” Dara ordered.
“Give him hot water and meat. At sundown I will name the second trial.” Max was locked again in the half-buried hut.
This time Zora brought not just food, but hot herbal tea smelling of thyme and something bitter. She set it down and lingered longer than before.
“How did you do it?” she asked in a whisper, glancing at the door. “How did you get behind Radmila? She can hear a leaf fall a hundred yards away.”
Max wrapped his hands around the warm clay cup. Heat moved slowly into his numb fingers. “I moved when the forest made noise,” he said, taking a careful sip.
“When the wind moved. When her own boots broke twigs. Human hearing can’t separate everything at once. The brain throws out what it thinks is background.”
“I became the background.” Zora stared at him, wide-eyed.
To her, it sounded like magic. To Max, it was basic infiltration technique. First-course material.
“You’re dangerous,” she said quietly. “Radmila will never forgive what you did to her. She’ll kill you in the second trial.”
“If not herself, then she’ll make sure the forest does it.” “The second trial,” Max said, setting the cup down. “A hunt?”
Zora nodded, twisting the edge of her jacket. “Blood for blood. You have to bring back game.”
“But not just any animal. Mother names the target. Usually a boar. Sometimes a lynx.”
“But Radmila… she may push for something worse.”
“Like what?”
Zora’s voice dropped. “The old rogue bear. He roams the northern gorge. Scarred, smart, mean.”
“He killed three of our best hunters last winter. We don’t go there anymore. If they send you after him, it’s a death sentence.”
“Without good steel, nobody takes him.” Max was silent for a second, running the numbers.
A rogue bear in late season was about the worst thing in the woods. Unpredictable. Aggressive. Not afraid of people. Going after one with a spear or bow was close to suicide, even in a group. Alone, with primitive gear, it was a sentence.
“Understood,” Max said evenly. “Thanks for the warning, Zora.” She nodded once and slipped out, shutting the heavy door behind her.
Max lay back on the hide. His body wanted sleep badly, but his mind kept working. If Radmila got her way with the bear, he would have to change the rules of the game.
You do not beat a bear in a straight contest of strength. You beat it with terrain, physics, and the animal’s own instincts.
He slept in short bursts, waking every half hour to stretch and keep his muscles from stiffening. His body was his primary tool. Let it go now, and he would be done before the hunt even started.
That evening the bar lifted again. This time it was Vlasta and two other grim-faced hunters. Their movements were sharp.
“Out,” Vlasta said. “Mother’s waiting.” The square was lit by large fires.
Sparks rose into the dark sky and mixed with the stars. Dara sat in a carved wooden chair draped with a bear skin. Radmila stood at her right hand.
The older hunter’s face looked carved from stone. No emotion. Just calculation. Max was led to the fire.
“You proved you can hide,” Dara began. In the firelight her face looked older than ever. “But a shield for the clan must do more than avoid a blow. It must know how to strike.”
The second trial would be a hunt.
Radmila stepped forward. “He must prove his blood runs hotter than a beast’s,” she said loudly, for all to hear. “In the northern gorge walks the one who took our sisters.”
“If this outsider is who the prophecy claims, let him bring back its head. If not, let his bones stay there.” A frightened breath moved through the crowd.
The women looked at one another. Sending an unarmed outsider after a rogue bear was not just cruel. It was an open death sentence.
Dara frowned. She saw Radmila’s move clearly enough. But the challenge had been made in public, and backing down would make her look weak…
