Page 13 of A Storm Rises

She rose, brushed herself off, and spoke with strength and conviction. “I am fine. Just startled.” She returned to her question. “The ‘blood’ part of its name must be for its fangs then? Is it vampiric?”

“It is vampiric, but it only feeds on small animals—especially rabbits. Can’t get enough rabbit, as a matter of fact. When threatened, it can sometimes release a deadly toxin through its claws.” He jerked his stubby thumb at the fox. “There is more to its shadow name, though.”

Avalynn raised her brows. “Really? Like what?”

“Watch.” He draped a heavy black cloth over half of the crate. The sun-blocking fabric created a dark space. The fox slunk into the crate’s corner, hissed, and then disappeared.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “Sun, Moon, and Stars. It is gone—vanished.”

“Not gone, but vanished into the dark.” He pulled the cloth off. With the sun shining down, it popped back into view. “And here it is again.”

“Unbelievable.” The fox blended into the shadows. She scratched her head, still staring at the creature. “How do I hunt a fox that disappears?” That created a larger challenge than usual, especially in the forest with all the trees.

He backed away and lifted his palms. “I have said all I can.” He tilted his head sideways. “But I have said enough to give you the answer.” He grinned and winked. “If you are smart enough, that is.”

Smart enough? Pfft. Kragar knew better, and so did she. But what was the answer? She replayed their conversation. Fangs. Shadows. Rabbits. She found no answer. She would have to think about it later.

“Come now.” He waved for her to follow. “We have more to discuss.”

They walked to the far end of the green space. Flags furled showing the wind’s direction. Stacks of hay bales served as a barrier while boards were erected for archery practice. Large parchments replaced the usual diamond-shaped targets. Faces were painted on each one.

“These are your competition,” Kragar said.

She rubbed her hands together in short strokes while scanning the competitors’ faces. “Most excellent, Master Kragar.”

He started at the far right with a drawing of Avalynn. The spot-on likeness pleased her. Long jet-black hair. Blue eyes. The artist captured her confidence by showing her chin slightly raised. “This is you.”

“Really?” She feigned surprise, then put her hand on her hip. “I think I know myself.”

Kragar did not flinch or grin. “Your strength is aiming, and everyone knows that. Your weakness?”

She swallowed. Weakness? She possessed none. First in line to the throne, she did not like hearing such nonsense. Kragar remained by her drawing with his arms crossed. She tossed him the easy answer. “I suppose my weakness is confidence?”

No response. He wore a disapproving expression and continued to the next drawing. She added weakness to her mental checklist of things to figure out, right under Shadowblood Fox and the mysterious note.

“Who is this?” Kragar pointed at the second drawing.

She recognized the long, cherry-red hair and green eyes. “Selene Baffin from Sand Bluff. Her father is the steward there.” They went to a courting training session once when they were young maidens and did not get along. “I made her cry when we were little.”

He howled. “Good girl. She is a displeasure, that one.” He pointed at the picture. “Her strength is climbing. Her weakness is aiming. She cannot shoot a center point if her bloodline depended on it.”

“Really? How did she qualify for the hunt then?”

“Her father, that is how.” Kragar snorted. He moved to the next drawing. “And this is…?”

“Eiric Lind from Cuesta. His uncle is the steward there.” His striking, long silver hair and violet eyes made all the maidens go weak in the knees. Not Avalynn. The dim and full of himself fae annoyed her. She couldn’t stand his company and would’ve rather had a conversation with a dead plant.

“Correct. His strength is aiming, too. Yet, water remains his weakness.”

No way. She laughed. “Water? Seriously?” She supposed the loser Eiric could not swim.

He tapped the portrait. “Put Eiric Lind in deep water, and he will sink to the bottom like that rock in your hand.”

She tossed the forgotten rock and motioned to the next hunter. “That’s Finnian Brunt from High Meadow.” Long brown hair, green eyes. Nice enough and from a good family. His father acted as steward of High Meadow since one had not been officially named after the Kanes were wiped out. He would be a formidable opponent.

“Finnian is known for strength and stamina, but he is slower than an ocean turtle.”

“Interesting.” She thought for sure his lack of speed would favor her in the hunt.

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