Another Huntsman strides in from the opposite side of the camp, purpose in his stride. Perhaps he's just come back from a mission. Most of them are carried out by Huntsmen who have already graduated, but if it's a simple one, then students carry them out too. At least, that seems to be the case. I have no idea if what I've uncovered about the Huntsmen over the years is correct or not. For all I know, everything out in the open is a lie.
The Huntsman stops in his tracks the moment his gaze latches on to me. He isn't close enough for me to make out his face, but his body language almost suggests he knows who I am beyond the girl wanting to join their male-only organisation.
He starts walking again, and the closer he gets, the more nervous he becomes. What have I done to put him so on edge?
As he passes the fire, the light flickers over his face, revealing sharp features I know almost as well as my own.
A small gasp escapes before I can cover it, but luckily, I think the Huntsman by my side is the only one who hears it. I wish he hadn't, but one person is better than everyone.
"Aredenne," the approaching man says, his voice nothing more than a low growl.
"Peter," I acknowledge, his name feeling ashen on my tongue. There goes any chance of me avoiding him forever. And I was doing such a good job.
"What are you doing here?" he demands.
My whole body shakes, but I think I manage to get it under control. "You know what I'm doing here," I say evenly.
We talked about my desire to become a Huntsman so many times, that it isn't possible for him to have no clue about it.
"I didn't think you'd do it."
I resist the urge to ask him if that's why he decided to. It isn't worth spending my time worrying about why he became a Huntsmen in the first place. He always told me he wanted to become an advisor of some kind. Though I'm not sure how he planned on doing that, or what changed.
"Well, now I'm here to make it happen," I say sweetly instead of calling him out on stealing my dream. I don't need to be the only person doing this. I just want to do a good job and live my life the way I want to.
He sneers. "You really think you're going to pass the test?"
My Huntsman bristles beside me, but doesn't say anything. It seems he's grown fond of me over the two conversations we've shared.
"Yes. If I didn't, then I wouldn't be here."
A knowing look passes through his eyes. No doubt he's remembering what I told him about my prophecy too. That's the real reason I'm at Grimm. This isn't the only place they train Huntsmen. I could have gone to any number of the training camps to try and get in. But with my prophecy, Grimm makes the most sense.
I want to beg him not to mention it. It isn't a secret that students here have prophecies hanging over their heads, but I've never wanted to be treated differently for it, and I don't want that to start now.
"Peter, are you coming? Training is about to start," one of the others calls.
My former sweetheart sneers at me again, but then turns and walks away.
I let out a sigh of relief. If I only have to deal with Peter in small doses, then I won't have to worry about keeping my composure.
"Are you all right?" my Huntsman asks.
I nod. "I'm fine. Just get me to the test."
"If you want a couple of minutes..."
"No," I cut him off. "I'm fine. I want to go through with the test, now."
He opens his mouth as if he's about to argue more, but then thinks better of it. Instead, he gestures to a small archway.
"You need to go through there. But I can't go with you."
I nod. "That's fine by me." I lift my head and start to walk away.
"Good luck," he calls after me.
I'm about to say I don't need wishing luck, but think better of it. "Thanks," I shout back instead.
I take a deep breath and step through the arch, determined to succeed at whatever is on the other side. No matter what it takes.
Chapter Three
"Good morning, Aredenne," an older man says.
I need to find a way to remind them all not to use my full name. It sounds ridiculous at the best of times, and even worse when I'm trying to be taken seriously.
"Good morning, Sir," I respond, knowing it's always better to be polite towards professors or other members of staff.
"We'd like you to create a set of bow and arrows with the supplies provided for you." He gestures to a table by his side.
I try not to let my relief show on my face. This is the kind of thing I know how to do. Dealing with the inner politics of the Huntsmen, not so much. But this is within my area of expertise.
"Would you like me to shoot them after?" I ask.
A small smile twitches at the side of his lips, as if he's impressed by my assumption. I hope that's the case. It will reflect well on me if it is.
"Yes. You'll find the target over there." He points to the side.
It only takes me a second to spot the target sitting and waiting. It's nothing fancy, and looks as if it's seen better days. It probably has. If every potential Huntsman goes through the same training, then it will have seen some heavy use over the years. I hope I can prove worthy of the previous men and women who have graced this range.
"You may begin when you're ready. I'll be watching as you perform the task."
"Thank you." Even if nerves flutter in my stomach at a mile a minute, I don't want to forget my manners. This man is taking time away from his other duties in order to watch me, I need to make him feel as if he's not being dismissed by me.
I make my way over to the table he told me about and scan the items there.
Everything I need turns out to be nothing more than a small selection of knives and various strings. At least they've given me access to the latter. It's possible to make bowstrings from things from the trees around me, but none of the options will be as good as the ones in front of me. I suspect most Huntsmen will carry spare bowstrings with them when they travel. It's a far more practical solution than carrying a spare bow already made up.
I have to wonder if time will count against me too. Is making a very basic one quicker going to be better than making something more sturdy?
Neither is the right option. I need to split the difference and make something which will last longer than a few hours, but won't take an age to make.
I weigh up each of the knives in turn, wanting to make sure I select the one that feels best. I hope to own a good one of my own someday, but right now, my personal knife is so old and battered, it can barely withstand cutting bread. I wish it wasn't the case, but my family don't have the money to replace things that aren't completely broken. It's a good thing for them that I'm here too, as it means one less mouth to feed. Perhaps I should be bitter about that, but that would be a waste of time. Like hundreds of families throughout the kingdoms, we struggle to make ends meet but manage to live happy lives despite that.
I just want more. I want my life to mean something. I want to make a difference. And if I can provide for my parents in their old age at the same time, then that's even better.
The smallest knife has the best balance, and I carefully attach the sheath to my belt. I don't need it straight away, but it'll be quicker if I have it with me.
I glance at the man watching me, but he doesn't give any indication of what he's thinking. Will he speak if I do something wrong?
I push away my concerns. It hardly matters. Right now, I need to trust in my gut instinct and make this bow.
Within five minutes, I have a small fire burning off to the side. It isn't as big as I'd do out in the wild, but here, time is of the essence, and I need it to burn out so I have hot ashes left. Otherwise, it'll be too easy to burn the wood of my bow and the arrows while I'm trying to harden them.
The undergrowth crunches under my practical boots as I scour the forest floor for the right kind of sticks. It's amazing how a place can be so enclosed and out in the open like this. It's impossible to forget we're in the middle of the
forest on the academy grounds, and yet it isn't dark or gloomy like I'd expect it to be.
I lean down to pick up a promising looking stick. It's about my height, dry, and sturdy with a little bend. The perfect stick to make a bow from. With the half a dozen smaller sticks I've found that will be good for arrows, I should be set. I even came across some feathers I can use for fletching. While not technically needed for the arrows to be functional, it will make them fly better, and if I'm being judged on all of it, then they'll be good to have.
With everything I need now in a pile by my dying fire, I sit myself down and get to work. Every now and again, I feed some of the shavings to the fire to keep it going.
I don't know how much time is passing, but from the gnawing in my stomach, my guess is that noon has just passed. Hopefully, I'll be able to eat once my test is over. I should have brought some bread and cheese with me from the kitchens, but I was too excited to come down to the Huntsman camp to start my test. Next time, I won't make the same mistake, no matter what's happening.
Finally satisfied by how my bow looks, I climb to my feet and raise it above my head, pulling back on the string and ensuring it's tight enough. A small smile spreads over my face as I feel the pent up power within it. Even if I do say so myself, I think it's a good bow.
I pick up my arrows, grateful I found so many sticks that will work well for them. Though that may have been by design. I'm sure they want people to pass this test if they have the skills.
I make my way over to the range, and then set down my bow and arrows. A small part of me wants to start shooting straight away, but I know that's a bad idea. Rushing will end badly. Instead, I begin to stretch out my sore muscles. I've been still for too long, and I don't want to make any silly mistakes while shooting because of it.
With that done, I start pacing up and down, trying to work out where the best place to shoot from is going to be. I can't be too close, or it'll seem like I'm trying to be too easy on myself. Nor can I be too far back or it'll look like I'm trying to show off. My bow is new, and I've never used it before, which I also have to take into account.
Eventually, I settle on a spot and pick my bow back up.
My hand shakes as I notch the first arrow. I take a deep breath in an attempt to steady my nerves, then let the arrow fly.
It sails through the air, and I watch with my heart in my throat. A loud thud fills the air as it hits the target, and I have to admit I'm relieved. It isn't a centre hit, but it's a good start, and something I can definitely work with.
After a few more goes, I feel as if I've gotten a good feel for the bow. I walk towards the target and pull out my arrows. I'm not sure what I should be doing, so it seems reasonable to keep carrying on until the man watching tells me to stop.
I return to the exact spot I was in before and ready myself to shoot.
"That will be all, Aredenne," the man says.
I want to protest. He needs to know that I can shoot better than he's just seen me doing. But he probably realises that.
"What happens now?" I ask, regretting the words as soon as they're out. What if he's trying to decide whether or not to let me into the Huntsmen and I've annoyed him with my impatience?
A slow smile spreads over his face. "Now, you have to do the second part of your test."
My eyes widen. I should have expected there to be more to it, but this has taken so long that I didn't believe it.
"I look forward to it," I answer instead of voicing my thoughts. "When do I start?"
"After you've had something to eat," he assures me. "Why don't you go back to the fire and I'll come get you when it's time to begin?"
I nod. There's nothing else I can do. Right now, I'm not a Huntsman. I have no rights among them.
I just hope that's about to change.
Chapter Four
I place my bowl to the side and stare into the fire. I close my eyes and give out a loud contented sigh. There's nothing like a good hearty meal to put me at ease. And after the test I've just had, I need it.
Steps approach, and I look up to find the Huntsman who has been accompanying me coming this way. Despite not wanting to, my spirit lifts at the sight of him. Somehow, despite barely knowing one another, he's become a friendly face in the camp. Someone I can rely on to have my back and not want me to fall down on my face.
Unlike Peter.
"Kit, are you coming for training?" someone calls.
My Huntsman turns around. Ah. That must be his name. I should have asked someone earlier, and then I'd be able to stop thinking of him as my Huntsman. Especially when he isn't anything to me but someone I've shared a couple of conversations with.
"Not now, I have an assignment," he calls back, then comes to sit beside me.
"This doesn't look like hard work," I quip.
He chuckles. "That's because I haven't started the work part yet. How did your test go?"
I shrug and stare into the flames. "Who knows. It's not like they're going to tell me until after the second part."
"That's true. I remember when I took the first part. It was the most stressful day of my life."
"It took a day?" I can't stop the surprise from entering my voice.
He nods. "Each test is a bit different. I'm not sure how they decide what someone's getting tested on. Perhaps they just cycle through the same set and it's just the luck of the draw."
"What did you have to do?" I glance at him, noting the wistful look of memory on his face. He's fond of his test for some reason. Perhaps because it's how he got to become a Huntsman.
"I had to catch a horse who had gotten away. They gave me a mean-tempered thing who hated being saddled and refused to cooperate."
A low chuckle escapes me. "I'd have hated that." I don't have nearly enough experience with horses to have been able to pull that off. It's one of the things I need to learn the most if I want to become a Huntsman.
"What did you get?" he asks.
"I had to make a bow, then shoot it."
He sucks in a breath. "That's a tricky one."
"Only if you don't know how to do it," I point out. "Your test would have been more difficult for me." I'm not sure what makes me admit it out loud, especially when it means alerting him to a weakness of mine. But it feels right to share in this moment.
"So, horses are a no, but making a bow is easy?" He smooths his red cloak over his knee.
I wonder when I'm going to get mine. Probably when they accept me into the institution.
"They're not a no," I assure him. "I'm not scared of them or anything like that. I've just never had a chance to learn how to ride."
"Where did you learn to make a bow?" The way he asks makes it clear he's curious and not disbelieving. I appreciate that. I'm not sure what I've done to earn Kit's trust, but it's clearly something.
"Father taught me," I answer honestly. "He never really planned on doing it, but he saw me watching him one day. I thought he was going to yell at me and tell me to get back in the house and help Mother with the washing."
"But he didn't?"
I shake my head. "He told me to sit down, then started again, explaining everything as he went."
"He sounds like a wonderful man."
"He is." I've no doubt my parents love me. Nor that I'm lucky to have a Father like mine who encourages my interests, even if they aren't traditionally those done by girls.
We both look up as more footsteps come from the direction of the fire. A small pang of disappointment flares through me that my time with Kit is up. But I know I can't spend my whole life talking to him, no matter how at ease it makes me.
The man from my first test approaches, his red cloak swishing as he walks. A little bit of satisfaction flows through me at being able to work out when a Huntsman is approaching. Moving quietly is likely one of the first things they teach.
"Aredenne, it's time for your second test," he says.
I rise to my feet. "Thank you."
"Good luck," Kit says.
> I smile at him, accepting his well wishes. I appreciate having someone on my side, even if I hadn't been so sure before.
"Follow me," the man instructs, before turning and walking off in the opposite direction.
"I'll see you on the other side." There isn't an ounce of a threat in Kit's words. He genuinely seems to want me to do well when it comes to the tests. Perhaps it's only so he can win his bet, but somehow, I don't think that's the case.
"You will," I promise, then go to follow the older man. I want to ask him about the first test, but don't. It's better if I let things unfold naturally.
"The second part of the test is simple," he tells me as we walk. "You are to head out into the forest, and must hunt down an item that has been placed there by one of the Huntsmen."
I nod. "Will you tell me what the item is?" It seems unlikely that he will, but I have to ask.
"No. You'll know it when you find it."
At least he's used when and not if. Perhaps he believes I'll be successful. More likely, he's just being polite and nothing more than that.
"How long do I have?" It feels like an important question to ask. It'll be hard to track precise time within the forest, especially as I don't own a timepiece. It's another thing on my wish list of items I want to buy myself at some point.
"We will send people into the forest to retrieve you at sundown. If that is how you return to camp, you can assume you have failed the test."
I gulp down my nerves. That's a lot of pressure. Even if I expect it to work that way. I'm not foolish enough to expect that coming out of the forest on my own is enough to pass the test either. It'll take more than that and I know it.
"This is where I leave you," the man says.
"Thank you."
I don't wait for any other instructions, that would defeat the point of the test. Instead, I head into the forest, grateful I still have the knife I picked up earlier. I probably shouldn't have taken it from the first test, but it was an accident. I didn't even realise I had it until I was nearly done with my lunch.
Huntsmen and Hoods Page 2
