#3 Stripes

Branwen POV

Run. It's all I can think as those white tiger eyes lock on me. I don't wait for him to pounce, I launch upward, my feet digging into bark, fingers catching on knots as I scramble up the nearest tree like a wildcat being chased by death itself. My heart hammers so loud I swear he can hear it.

The White Tiger Lord prowls forward, massive, sleek and deadly. His stripes blend into the fog. His tongue flicks out as his eyes follow me. He circles the base of the trunk, head tilted, tail twitching with savage interest.

"Go away." I mutter more to myself than anything. He tries jumping, his claws scraping bark, but the first true branches are high. Too high. Somehow that tiny blessing is real. He huffs. Walks a slow circle. Huffs again.

For a terrifying moment I think he's going to wait me out. But eventually, with one final glare up into the canopy, he turns and trots off into the fog-blanketed forest like some ghostcat from ancient nightmares.

I don't move for five full minutes. Once I'm sure he's gone, I whisper a quick seeker spell under my breath. Mosswood magic moves down my fingers and through the trunk, searching. No dark energy. No beastly auras nearby. Clear.

I drop to the forest floor, land in a crouch, and bolt deeper into the woods. This time aiming for the thickest, oldest and darkest part of the trees. Oaks and ash older than the walls at Divinora. Places even monsters might hesitate to tread. I whisper a small prayer to the Green Lady, the earth goddess my coven worships in secret... "Green Lady guide my feet. Shield my scent. Hide me from teeth and claw."

A breeze rustles through the leaves in answer. I find a massive greybeard tree with a hollowed trunk and sprawling branches. Perfect. I climb back up, settling myself into a crook strong enough to cradle me. From my rucksack I pull a protein bar and nibble it slowly, my eyes sweeping the forest floor below.

One bottle of water. Too precious to waste. Careful sips. Save the rest. I swallow hard. "At some point," I whisper to myself, "...I'm going to need to hunt."

Witches of Mosswood can snare rabbits and charm fish from streams. It'll come to that soon. But for tonight... getting my heart rate down is victory enough.

Dusk bleeds mauve and gold through the canopy. Fog intensifies. Sounds travel strangely here...distant screams, gritty laughter, a bear's roar. Then... crack. Someone's footsteps getting closer.

My fingers close around my bow as I freeze. Through the trees I see her, the sixteen year old girl from the courtyard. The one who sobbed when the countdown began. She stumbles across the clearing below me, her thin legs shaking. Her clothes are just caked in mud. Breath saws in and out of her ribs like she might split in half. Before I can whisper a warning, a massive shadow drops in front of her.

The Gorilla Lord. He's even bigger in the daylight. His black fur is matted with blood from the man he tore apart earlier, but his eyes are surprisingly gentle despite his monstrous size. The girl collapses into the dirt with a squeak. He sniffs her. Her hair. Her neck. Down the length of her body.

"Too young to mate," he grunts in a deep, rumbling voice that vibrates the bark of my tree. She whimpers. "...barely." He grins, showing the sharp teeth beneath his flat primate nose. "Will you surrender? Wait. Become my mate... when you are of age? I do not torture my mates. They live well. You will be cared for."

She trembles like a baby deer. Then slowly... she nods. He huffs in approval, scoops her up like she weighs nothing, and tosses her over his massive furred shoulder. She sobs softly all the while as he lumbers off toward the west, humming to himself like he's pleased with his prize.

I press my back against the trunk, heart squeezing tight in my chest. Relief and horror swirl together until I can't tell them apart. She surrendered. She lives... but as what? A pet? A prisoner? My stomach hollows.

Survive. Or Surrender. I swallow hard and curl deeper into my nest in the tree. I pull out my second dagger, laying it across my lap like a promise. "I'll die before I nod," I whisper into the fog. And as night swallows the forest whole, I keep my eyes open.

Because I know... when the darkness falls?That's when the real monsters come hunting.

Dawn breaks silver gray through the canopy by the time I finally let myself sleep. A few solid hours, tucked in my mossy nest, dagger in hand, is all my body grants me before instinct twitches my eyes back open. I scan the forest. Whisper a quick seeker charm. Nothing. Safe... for now.

I climb down. My legs protest but I work through the stiffness anyway, roll my shoulders and stretch my hips. I crack my knuckles until I feel like myself again. I swing down the last of one water bottle, shove a second protein bar down my throat, and head out to hunt down fresh water.

It takes a while, maybe another full mile through ancient pines and thick brush, before I hear the sweet gurgle of a stream. I drop to my knees in relief. The water is clear and rushing over smooth stones. I spy fat little fish darting beneath the surface. I murmur a safety chant and let the magic test for bacteria, poison or hex. Clean.

I refill my bottles and gulp straight from a cupped palm. Cool liquid slides down my dry throat like heaven. I even allow myself a brief smile. Maybe... just maybe I can do this. Snap. I freeze. That sound didn't come from the water.

I whirl with my bow already half drawn. The bushes rustle... then part. Tiger eyes. Burning amber, fixed on me again. He steps into full view, massive and lethal, his white striped coat glistening in the rising sun. His ears are forward. His jaw hangs open slightly as he drinks in my scent. "Gods curse you," I hiss, and bolt.

I sprint across the bank, the breath tearing out of me, my feet pounding through undergrowth. Branches slash my skin, I don't care, I just run. Behind me comes the terrifying sound of pounding paws, huge, fast and fucking inevitable. "Not today, stripes!"

I hit a thick oak and launch myself up the trunk. My hands scrabble for purchase. I haul myself into the branches just as he lunges for me, and his roar shakes the forest. Sprawled on a limb, I cling to the bark and glance down, and nearly choke on my own spit. Because he's changing.

White fur retracts. Bones snap and twist. His body lengthens and shifts as he suddenly rises onto two legs. When it's over... a giant man stands beneath my tree. He's easily six foot six, tanned in a strange exotic way, muscles packed thick across his shoulders and chest. His hair is snowy-white and wild. And most distracting of all...He is entirely naked. I gape, my jaw slack.

He stares up at me like I'm a rare jewel he's been hunting for years. His voice booms through the clearing, rumbling and regal.

"There is no use hiding, little one. I have caught your magnificent scent. Nothing else in this hunt will satisfy me now, but you. I will claim you, brown haired wild witch."

Claim me. He says it like it's a goddamn gift.

I snarl down at him. "I'm not yours to claim, you stripey bastard. I'm not coming down."

His eyes blaze. He bares his teeth, not fangs anymore, but very sharp looking regardless. "I would treat you well, wild one. You would not be harmed." I curl my lip. "I'd rather die than be shackled to some oversized pussycat with entitlement issues!"

He looks genuinely offended. An earsplitting growl rips from his chest as he fists his hands and storms away from the base of the tree, muttering something angry in a language I don't know.

When he disappears into the trees, I finally let out a tense breath. "Bloody hell." Stripes is persistent. Dangerous. And ridiculously handsome which, frankly, is rude at this point.

If this is day one... what the hell is the rest of the month going to look like?