The Mate Hunt
Almost.
Instead, I stepped around, slipped a hand beneath the branches, and caught the cloth. Maeve waited behind the log, tense, silent. I gave the trap a sharp pull. The branch sprang loose, slicing through the space where my body should have been, stakes whistling through the air.
Maeve rose, satisfaction lighting her face... for an instant. Then she realized I was gone.
“Too obvious,” I called, unseen.
She spun, knife up, searching the dark.