Page 6 of A Soul to Touch

“You. You just couldn’t be in a bush near the house, could you?” She yanked her axe from the snow and started hacking at the branch again. “Now I’m going to have to carry you and this branch back at the same time. Do you know how hard that’s going to be?! And I don’t have any booze to reward myself with!”

She’d originally planned to cut this branch into pieces and carry it all on her back like a backpack with the rope wrapped around the edges. Now she would have to grab the thin end of the branch and drag it across the ground while carting the animal on her back.

Her words were strained, often following with a grunt when she used the axe, when she said, “Then again, this will give me something to do tonight.”

It was better than drinking and staring at the flames, or out the window, or at the damn ceiling.

I need a boyfriend or something.She paused and scrunched up her nose at herself.Ew. No, I don’t. Men are too complicated.

Girlfriend then?She thought about it for a long while, her eyes scanning the canopy of leaves above... and then she shook her head.Same problem. Too complicated.

Regardless, she was feeling just a smidge lonely.I’d rather just fuck and forget their face.

Another reason to go to the town, she guessed.

Once she was done with cutting the branch free from the cedar tree laying half buried in the snow, she hoisted the boar ontoher back. Then she walked around to grab the tip of the tree branch, pulling on it to start her treacherous climb back upthe mountain.

She created a noticeable track in the snow behind her, but she was more focused on not tripping while carrying her heavy load. Her heart raced with exertion, her breaths growing more rapid as seconds passed with every strained leg lift.

This is going to take forever,she thought after five minutes and finding she’d barely covered any distance.Damnit.

After returning home and waiting for nightfall to begin, Mayumi securely tied the boar’s back feet and pulled on the long length of rope connected to it so she could hang it upside down. In the middle of the small clearing in front of her house was a nine-foot-tall wooden stake. At the top of the stake was a carved slit to guide the rope through without it slipping to the side as she pulled.

When it was chest height, she temporarily looped the rope on a metal spike that was staked to the ground.

The boar made noises of distress. She was sure it was uncomfortable or in pain, but she’d long ago become desensitised to this kind of cruelty. Its suffering would end shortly.

That didn’t mean earlier in the day she hadn’t nursed the injured boar. She’d cleaned its wound inflicted by her arrow and bandaged it while giving it herbal medicine in the hopes of removing its pain.

She hated doing this to a defenceless animal, but it was a necessity in the reality of the Demon-age the world was currently in.

Removing the cutting blade from between her teeth and the lip-curling grin that prevented her face from being sliced, Mayumi gripped the handle tightly with one fist. Then she stabbed the blade into the boar’s gut just below its pelvis.

She stepped back slightly as she cut downwards, letting its blood and entrails fall to the ground to make sure very little, or hopefully none, touched her.

Knowing she needed to discard it so as not to carry around the smell of fresh blood, she dropped the knife to the ground and then eyed the sky.

Dusk was settling, and the shadows were already long. A few more minutes and the sun would fully finish dropping beyond the horizon.

Mayumi grabbed the rope and hoisted the boar carcass higher up the wooden stake to make it difficult to reach. Her movements were quick, rushed, but not panicked.

Once it was tied permanently, she sprinted inside.

She didn’t remove her boots, although she usually would, so she could be swift. Her hands had a few crimson droplets, and she washed them in a shallow bowl.

The mirror was her next stop to check that she didn’t have blood anywhere else before doing a final look over her boots with her own eyes.

The clothing she wore was black from head to toe.

Her boots felt more like socks as they were flexible and durable, moulding between her big toes so she had dexterity with them. Her leather breeches had been soaked in black dye, as had her skin-tight shirt and leather jacket. Her gloves were thin, not designed to keep out the cold but rather to hide the skin.

Over her head was a specialised hood with a button on the inside so she could hook a mask over her face that hid everything but her eyes.

And those eyes, that had been bored and tired earlier, now looked back at her from the mirror with a distinct sharpness they only ever held when she wore this outfit.

The last detail on her otherwise plain clothing was a silver insignia pressed into the upper chest at her sternum. A sword stabbing all the way through a circle that tapered off at the end before it could finish completing.

It was the symbol of the Demonslayer guild.

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