The Huntress

With only moonlight to see by she followed the man’s trail easily. She heard him before spotting him amongst the trees carrying her sister. Her rage rose once more: no cleanly killing arrow would fly from her bow. It would pierce something vital but not immediately fatal.

He’d reached the path now, and after looking along it, lowered his head. The huntress new he’d kissed her sister. She shuddered as her ears caught his tender-seeming, indistinct murmuring.

Once he was down the trail, she stepped onto it so she’d have a clear shot. There was a snap as he stepped on a twig. She froze, then heard her sister’s voice. The words were muffled but the tone was clear: affectionate, gentle.

She was dumbstruck. Did her sister actually care for this man? Was his tenderness for her genuine? She had to know, and followed them to a mist-shrouded home. Through a window she saw her sister’s arms slide reluctantly from him as he tucked her into bed, saw how she looked at him, and finally understood how wrong she’d been.

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