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

Finally, there’s movement. But I can’t take the shot. Not at this creature. I would never be able to find the courage, for if I did, I would have to flee. And wherever I fled to, I would encounter malice. There is no escaping the demons that would haunt me for the remainder of my days, lurking around every corner, and taking every opportunity to strike me down. Similar to the fantastical unicorns of fairytales, this creature is unobtainable. Out of reach. Off limits. Taboo to taint. But real! It is the rarest of creatures.

The velvet tree upon its head, said to have a never-ending growth cycle throughout the seasons, is larger than any I’ve seen. It’s wider than my reach from palm to palm, with tines spreading out like lightning bolts across a late summer sky. The hide is brilliant white aside from the stained fur around its chops and hooves, which are more silver in color. And its eyes are clear blue, as true as the sky. The essence of the creature demands respect. It symbolizes pride, courage, integrity, virtue, and everything good in this world. Its antlers are unyielding like stone, yet soft as a peach. Its hide is as pure as a freshly washed maiden and cleanses the filth from anything it brushes. Its eyes are truer than gravity and shine light upon all falsehood. It is a stag of incomparable status. It is the legendary White Hart.

I seek out Zoie, to ensure she’s seeing what I’m seeing. I still don’t see her.

I take it for all its worth and admire the creature for a good while until it slips out of sight. Then, it’s back to waiting.

Eventually, another stag comes roaming into the area. And this one has no safety net or ambiguity about it to cause hesitance in my arrow flying. It’s not the largest of beasts but would quarter out nicely. I look up where I last saw Zoie. She remains hidden. Where did she go?

Just as I take my eyes off the treetops, I notice a subtle movement. There’s an unnatural shape in the branches. A bow. I don’t see Zoie, just a bow. The bow rises with an arrow nocked. The bow draws back and holds. Her camouflage is extraordinary.

Unsure of what is happening in the treetops, I swiftly bring my bow into place, hoping to get the first shot. Poor etiquette, but her gloating has earned her this.

I loose my arrow and watch it fly. It isn’t perfect, but it is a kill shot, hitting a tad low, just behind the foreleg. The buck shoots into the air, alarmed by the pinch it just encountered, and it takes off running. It shouldn’t make it more than forty paces with that shot.

With my bow secure on my back, I look up to see why Zoie didn’t shoot. She has already repelled from her tree and is heading toward me, pointing in my direction. I look over my shoulder in line with her outstretched finger to see a large mountain lion lying dead on the ground behind me. A surreal feeling washes over me.

Believing I was completely camouflaged, I carelessly waited for the prey. It didn’t even cross my mind to fear other predators after my conversation with Zoie.

“That’s four times. Are you giving Death a shoulder ride?” Zoie jabs as she approaches. “It’s been eyeing you from behind, waiting for the right time to pounce. It’s almost intentional the way you put yourself in danger.”

“How is that my fault? I was camouflaged. I asked you if there were other predators in this wood.”

“Camouflaged? You tied some branches to your tunic. When I said there weren’t predators, I didn’t realize you would intentionally put yourself out there as open prey. For Susy’s sake! This is camouflage.”

Her skin is slowly encapsulated by a crusted, grey armor emulating tree bark. It consumes her entire body, arms, face, clothing. Aside from shape, she looks no different than the tree she was just perched in. How? It retracts rather quickly, and she’s back to normal.

Unwilling to show my amazement, I criticize instead. “Well, why didn’t you shoot it sooner, then? Why wait for me to be dinner?”

“It was a tough decision. A stag tastes much better than a mountain lion.”

I frivolously smack her upside the head to show my disapproval and laugh at my near-death experience. I don’t know if I can consider it a near-death experience when I didn’t know I was experiencing it, though.

“Thanks, Zoie. By the way, I think you’ve forgotten how to count. You caught me from the fall at the grove, the fall at the range earlier today, and just now. Albeit, that is more falls than I’m proud of, but your bridges are reckless. I would be only half-surprised if you told me all the villagers were half-simian with opposable thumbs on their feet.”

“No! You’ve forgotten how to count. At the crossing. The day you arrived.”

“That was you? He mentioned a young girl, but I let it slip my mind.” I’m peeved. Three times saving me is embarrassing. Four times is intolerable.

“Yeah. I followed you. I was bored. And curious, so I followed. When I saw you falling, I nearly just let it happen, but Chippie nudged me.”

“It took the better judgement of a squirrel for you to save me?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “I knew Coloss wouldn’t let any harm come to me, so I figured why not. I leaped right behind you, and Coloss was right there to secure me just when I needed him.”

“But I didn’t even see you. How’d you get there so fast? How’d you know Coloss would save you?”

“Instincts. They come in handy from time to time.”

“So, the squirrel told you to do it, and the ape saved us?”