Praetorian Rising, стр. 15

Marcus Flint, the Head Guard of Sierra Village, was waiting in a small clearing as Camille joined the men. Marcus pulled out a slew of daggers from his hunting pack, handing them to the unarmed villagers who'd decided to join the morning hunt.

"Morning Camille," Marcus said as he approached her. He wore a worn leather vest marked with the Sierra Village crest: an owl in flight over a standing pine tree. Most guards wore their hunting doublets to showcase their power and authority, but not Marcus. He wore his out of necessity. His pockets were packed to the brim in preparation for the hunt.

Mumbling a groggy good morning in Marcus’s direction, Camille passed by him debating if she should tell him about the Chimera. It would be smart to warn him, as the Chimera were a serious threat to the village. If she did, she'd not only lose her playtime with Lunci but her hunting time as well. She'd need to be extra vigilant in watching the nine-year-old, never letting him out of her sight in the forest from now on.

"Brian and Jacob—head along the west path with Camille," Marcus said to two younger boys standing next to Camille. "I was told yesterday that a pack of wild turkeys was spotted there, and I'm hoping to get one on our menu tonight. Watch each other's backs and make sure to report to me immediately if you see anything outside of the norm."

All three nodded, and Camille led the way.

"See what you can do, our little golden hunter," Marcus murmured as she brushed past. He'd quickly recognized her as one of the best hunters in the village when she arrived, and treated her with respect when they were alone amongst the trees. In public, however, he ignored her often and had barely smirked a few times when they crossed paths, regarding her as if she were a homeless beggar asking for a bite to eat. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. She took extra precaution when in his presence not to allow her inner turmoil to seep through the wall holding in her wild range of emotions.

"Any wagers this morning, gentlemen?" Camille asked, peering closely at her hunting companions coming up behind her.

"Wagers? Against you?" Jacob said incredulously. His black hair shined an almost vivid blue in the early morning light, hanging shaggily over his amber-hued eyes. He leaned down to gather his hunting gear, which was all frayed and rundown despite his best efforts to maintain it. Jacob's parents were both blacksmiths but weren't considered well off within the village. They got by like the rest of them—just barely, with several pounds lost after the winter chill snuck in.

It wasn't easy to get on his nice side, and at first, Camille hadn't cared to try. She'd ignored the men, hunting by herself until these teenagers had seen her for what she was: a great ally. They'd reported her skills to Marcus one evening after a particularly great hunt, and her popularity on the trails had increased overnight.

Jacob no longer shot verbal daggers at her as he'd done their first few months of hunting. Instead of harping on her short stature and female qualities, he now regularly asked her for pointers on her pristine hunting tactics. There was obvious curiosity surrounding Camille, a stranger in their home village explained away as a long-lost relative of Peter's, but she deflected all questions about her origin.

"The only wager I'd take against you would be if you shot with your eyes closed, Camille, and even then, I bet you'd still shoot down more game than little Brian here." Jacob elbowed Brian, a lanky, mousy-haired boy not much older than thirteen.

Even though Brian Bower was three years his junior, Jacob only stood a mere three inches taller than him. Brian was kinder, though, with wide blue eyes the color of the evening sky and a shy smile Camille had immediately taken to.

"I doubt I could hit anything smaller than a deer with my eyes closed," Camille said to Brian. "So you might obliterate my record."

"Uh huh, you're just humble," Brian replied, his face breaking into a wide smile. "You'd miss on purpose to give me the upper hand in a competition, Cammy. Don't even try to argue with me on that."

It was hard not to like the two boys who'd taken her in. They teased her, swapped goods after hunting, and shared stories about their experiences in the village growing up together. Brian was sweet and good-natured but followed the crowd, and he hadn't really befriended Camille until Jacob decided to. Jacob, at first, had treated her like Marcus had, but, in the last few moon cycles, his attitude toward her had drastically changed. He sought out her attention and praise, not just in a crowd but also when they found themselves alone. She valued their friendships regardless of their past behaviors, and it felt good to have something constant in her life. Something she could pretend had always been a part of her past.

The three of them laughed freely as they went up to their usual path, enjoying the brisk autumn air along the western trail through Dun L'er. Camille led the way, pointing directions instead of voicing them when she heard game rustling in the leaves of the forest floor. Brian was the first to shoot down a rabbit and smiled widely when Camille lied and said she hadn't even seen it.

"Hey Cammy, how's the hand?" Brian asked. He carefully pulled the arrow from the rabbit's neck as Camille had taught him, making sure not to break the arrow's tip off in the process.

She removed her glove and held out her palm. "Totally fine. I told you it'd heal fast."

Brian's eyes bugged out as he took in her smooth skin, absent of any mark. She'd cut it severely two days ago chasing down a deer, but the surface layer