Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

Another moment of silence slams into us harder than Coloss’s simian fists.

“I’m sorry,” Zoie says, and she sprints away.

“Zoie!” I chase after her. “Zoie! Wait!”

“We’re losing prime hunting time. We’ve got to hurry,” she spits back without slowing.

“Zoie! Stop!” I yell. She stops in her tracks but fails to turn and face me. I calm my tone. “Zoie, it’s okay.”

“I don’t mean to spill my guts,” she confesses. “It’s all still hard to accept. Then you came along, and I just…”

“It’s okay, Zoie.” I try to brush by the fact that she just confessed a childhood crush. The pain of her late parents is far more important, and I have a better understanding about how to deal with it than a childhood crush. “Spill out your guts. You’ve experienced something no child should ever have to. Mine was a choice, and over four seasons have passed, and I’m still having a hard time accepting it. It’s not easy, and it never will be.”

She remains silent. I give her a moment before moving onto the next elephant in the forest.

“And about that other thing you said…that…love thing.” I hesitate, and she interrupts before I can finish saying whatever it was I was going to say.

“I didn’t mean it,” she lies.

She’s attempting to defend herself against my rejection. I know she understands all too well it is something that would never be, so I try to lighten the mood with an off-putting comment. “Well…with all that out of the way, it’s time to toughen up, Sheela. Wipe those tears away, and let’s go kill something with antlers. It’ll make you feel better.”

She punches me in the ribs. “Agreed.”

“So, I assume we’re hunting the typical game, a stag, no? Are there any predators in this area I should be wary of? Any giant apes waiting to rip my limbs off?”

“They all go after the same prey we do,” she replies.

“What does that mean? Are there large predators or not?”

“I suppose so. The bear typically roams further northeast. You likely won’t encounter any. You might spot a cougar or black panther, I suppose. But they aren’t your enemy.” She looks up at me from the corner of her eyes as though I am asking a ridiculous question.

“Not my enemy? I would shoot them on sight. They’re exactly the predators I inquire about. They kill what they can eat.”

Zoie laughs, intentionally trying to hold it in. I’m assuming so as not to create too much noise. “Would you shoot your neighbor who picks from the same fig tree? Would you shoot a hawk that preys upon the same pheasant? They are not predators. They hunt just as you do.”

“You don’t fear them?”

“No. But don’t mistake me. If they did attack, I would defend myself. But to kill them on sight is arrogant. Maybe Graytu was right. You’re so naïve he has you learning from the children of the village.”

“Nonsense. Wisdom from a child? Nonsense.”

The walk to the grove wasn’t too far. It gave us more time to bond. And even if Zoie’s form of bonding is punching me in the gut, it was pleasant. When we came within a doe’s earshot of the grove, we silenced ourselves.

Zoie claims her spot in a tree and, through a whisper, tells me what I should be doing. I intentionally don’t hear a word she says because I’m a man, for goodness sake. I know how to hunt, so whatever she said would most likely have annoyed me.

Contrary to Zoie, I prefer to be on the ground closer to the action, feeling my nerves spike as a large eight-point comes within paces of me. Something about not knowing whether a little twitch or the slightest sniffle will aggravate the beast and set him into a charge is intoxicating.

I snap a few twigs off the surrounding undergrowth and tuck them into my boots one at a time. The first, a huckleberry bush, ripe with berries. I place my hand over it to manipulate it. I visualize the branch—its thin outer layer and the fibrous tendrils within—and see it grow before it physically starts growing. It coils up my leg, around my body, and creeps to my neck and over my face like a vine. Leaving clear visibility. And I’m careful not to obstruct access to my bow or other weaponry. As it grows, leaves sprout all over it, along with a few more berries. I place my hand over the second and third ones, which are of a coniferous variety. They sprout up my leg and around my body as well, spitting out shoots until the twigs reach my neck. I cease the growth. They’re a bit pricklier, so I avoid having them on my face. The final twig is from an apple tree. This one shrouds my body like the others, topping off the camouflage, and when the tip of it climbs to my shoulder, I focus my energy there. A flower blossoms and wilts, and out pops a ripe apple hanging just above my left shoulder.

Now that I’m fully camouflaged with a ghillie suit, I take my stance below one of the fruit trees and wait.

In the distant forest, robins chirp, and chipmunks chatter. It’s a delightful distraction but not what I’m wishing to hear right now. Roughly an hour passes, and a twig snaps forty paces out, judging by the intensity of it, but it sounds like it could have come from above. I look around with my eyes only, not moving a muscle. I no longer see Zoie perched high in the sentinel. I discount the noise and continue my game of patience.

My mind drifts. I notice the trees are shedding an excessive amount of leaves. They’ve taken on some autumnal colors as well. Is the forest dying? I