XII - The Fawn

  The moon was full and bright—bright enough that it lit their path ahead, even beneath the sporadic canopy of the forest. Sybil and Felice walked side-by-side through the gloom, making their way deeper into the trees. Felice, clearly excited, was going on and on about their hunt. She was eager to discover what potential prey the nighttime dark kept hidden from them.

  “Oh, how I’ve missed eating meat since becoming Dr. Frosts’ student,” she said. “It is so very rare that I get to enjoy some, seeing as she dislikes preparing it. I wonder what animals we can find in this forest. A hare, maybe? Or perhaps we will find a boar! Have you ever eaten boar, Sybil?”

  Sybil barely heard her. When Felice realized that her companion was not going to respond, she frowned. “Sybil?”

  The huntress suddenly snapped back into her body. “Hm? What was that?”

  “I asked if you’ve ever eaten boar before.”

  “Oh,” Sybil said. “Yes, I have. My father used to hunt boar quite often.”

  Felice looked at her quizzically. “Are you alright?”

  Sybil stopped walking and sighed. “Yes, I am. I’m just a bit distracted, is all. My apologies.”

  “Are you upset about the hunt? Because we can return to camp. We’ll tell Dr. Frost and Mr. Albescu that we did not find anything, and we felt too cold to stay out here for very long.”

  “No, it’s not the hunt,” Sybil said. “I was just thinking about my… about my parents. I keep thinking about all of the patients that Dr. Frost has treated with Blight Bane, and I… I…”

  “You wish you could have done something to save them, like how Dr. Frost saves others.”

  Sybil nodded. “Yes.”

  “I cannot imagine what you have been going through since losing your parents,” Felice said. “But focusing on the past will only lead to further misery. You may have been unable to help them, but you must remember all of the people that you will help. Your entire life lies ahead of you yet, Sybil, and I know you will use it to do great things.”

  “You truly believe so?”

  Felice offered a warm smile. “I do. And your parents would feel the same way. They’d want you to put the past behind you and look to the future—look to what you have ahead of you, and what you will accomplish.”

  Sybil returned the smile. It came more naturally to her than she would have thought. “Thank you, Felice. Your kind words do much to ease my mind.”

  Her companion placed a hand on her shoulder. “Of course. Friends help each other through moments like these. We are friends, are we not?”

  “We are,” Sybil agreed, “and I am glad to have you. Ever since my parents were slain, I’ve not had anybody to talk to about this besides Mr. Albescu, and I am not so sure he understands how I feel, try though he might.”

  Felice suddenly looked confused. “Slain? I thought your parents died of Plague.”

  Sybil grimaced. She immediately felt a heat flush along her neck and shoulders, despite the chill in the air. “Ah—slain by Plague, I mean. It is difficult not to look at that affliction as a living, malevolent creature after what it has done to my life.”

  “Of course,” Felice said slowly, appearing unconvinced. “I suppose I do not know the Plague in that capacity, so I cannot speak for how loss of your kind can change your perspective on it.”

  This time it was Sybil who was confused. “But I thought you said you lost many loved ones to Plague.”

  “I have,” Felice said quickly, “but not my parents. They are alive and well, thank the Goddess.”

  “And where was it you said they reside?”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Far to the east,” the girl said plainly.

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen them?”

  “Some time,” Felice said. “Since before I met Dr. Frost.”

  Sybil frowned. “That long? But you’ve been with Dr. Frost for years. You were so young. Do you not miss them?”

  “I do,” Felice said, “but I understand that the path I have chosen is one wrought with sacrifice. I cannot come to be like Dr. Frost without experiencing my fair share of hardship.”

  Sybil’s frown persisted as they walked on through the forest. She wanted to continue the conversation, but any responses that she had begun brewing in her head were lost when she heard the sound of rustling foliage, followed by the snapping of twigs.

  The two girls froze, their eyes immediately meeting between them. They looked ahead in the direction of the sound, where they watched as a four-legged figure ambled clumsily out of the trees less than fifteen meters ahead of them. Through the light of the cascading moon, Sybil could see that the creature was a young fawn, at most only a handful of weeks old. Its exact age was difficult to estimate; it had a frailty about it that betrayed its malnourishment. Sybil’s mind went back to the many starving animals that she and her father had come across during their hunts. Her heart reached for the poor thing, and she immediately wondered what had become of its mother.

  Felice looked at the fawn, then back at her companion and smirked. “Supper.”

  Sybil shook her head. “It’s only a baby,” she whispered.

  “All the easier to hunt, then.”

  The fawn leaned its head to the ground and began nibbling grass. It clearly had not yet noticed them.

  “It feels wrong,” Sybil said. “My father taught me never to hunt such young animals—only adults.”

  “You would likely be doing the poor creature a great kindness,” Felice whispered. “Look how frail it is. It clearly has lost its mother, and without it, it will either slowly starve to death, or it will get taken by a predator that will be far less merciful than the swift strike of a crossbow quarrel. To kill it now would only save it further suffering.”

  Sybil bit her lip. “It still feels wrong. It isn’t our place to harm the youth of the forest; that is what my father always told me. If the thing is to die from another predator, then so be it, but its premature end won’t be brought on by us.”

  “You want fresh meat, don’t you?” Felice asked. “This is our chance, and we know not if we’ll get another. We could spend hours wandering this forest without finding a second quarry. But if you would rather go back to eating nuts and carrots, you are more than welcome to.”

  Sybil hesitated. She considered taking her companion’s offer and returning to camp, but instead she nodded and suppressed a sigh. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

  Felice smiled her approval. “Excellent. Then you’d best act now before the chance is lost.”

  Sybil returned her attention to the grazing fawn, which had still not detected their presence. Maybe Felice was right. If the unfortunate creature was so inept that it was completely unaware of the present danger that hid only a handful of meters away, then perhaps it was best to slay it now before another predator could do the deed. It would certainly be a mercy—a swift, fairly painless end that the thing would most definitely prefer over a potentially savage, prolonged death brought on by a wolf or bear, or worse, the agony of starvation.

  With this thought forced to the forefront of her mind, Sybil raised her crossbow, aimed it at the fawn, and rested her bottom palm on the trigger. With one quick, practiced movement, her quarrel would fly from her crossbow and pierce the fawn in the heart, and it would all be over. The poor thing’s suffering would come to an end, and Sybil would be able to provide meat for her companions. Most importantly, though—and this thought she kept guarded so deeply in her mind that she almost didn’t even realize it was there—most importantly of all was that she’d finally be free of the burden that so terribly held her back.

  Her thoughts went to her father, and all that he had taught her. And she felt his iron grip stay her hand.

  Sybil lowered her crossbow and frowned at her companion. “I can’t do it, Felice. I’m sorry.”

  Felice shared in her frown for the briefest of moments before something shifted in her eyes. Sybil hardly had time to realize what was happening ere her companion snatched the crossbow from out of her hands. “Give it to me, then.”

  “Wait!” Sybil whispered, her voice a high-pitched hiss.

  Felice, ignoring her companion’s protests, raised the crossbow, aimed, and fired without a moment of hesitation. The quarrel soared through the air and struck the fawn in a matter of moments, taking it through the neck. Blood splashed against the foliage at the fawn’s feet, which it used to take only two surprised steps before it collapsed to the ground. It was dead by the time its body landed on the cold earth.

  “I hit it!” Felice said excitedly.

  Sybil could only stare at her, mouth agape, shocked by what she had just witnessed. “What—How—How did—”

  “Beginner’s luck, I suppose,” Felice said with a devilish smirk. “That, or I am more natural of a shot than I realized.” Sybil continued to gape at her, still unable to comprehend what had just happened. “We can tell Dr. Frost and Mr. Albescu that you’re the one who downed it, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

  “N-no,” Sybil said, shaking her head. “No, it’s your kill. You’ve earned the credit for it.” In truth, she wanted nothing to do with what had just transpired. She would have immediately purged the memory from her mind, had she been able to.

  “Very well,” Felice said, “but if you change your mind, all you have to do is tell me.” She took a step toward the waiting deer carcass. “Come, let’s get our kill and make our way back to camp. I can already smell it cooking.”

  Sybil frowned as she watched her companion walk toward the fawn. She stood in silence for several seconds, hesitant to even move. Then, with a heavy step, she followed after Felice.