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	Mist clung to the dark, barren branches of desolate trees of the Twisted Forest. The sun filtered down in a gloomy haze, casting an eerie twilight glow about the forest despite the early daylight hour. Shadows stretched longer than seemed natural from the base of trees and deadly-looking plants spattering the ground. Even the grass looked dismal, each drab blade bent as if suffering from a debilitating depression.
	Elayra crouched inside a hollow in a tree trunk that looked burnt and split from a lightning strike. A cut that had only just begun to scab over created a line down the left side of her face above and below her eye. Only a couple strands of her platinum hair escaped the cowl pulled over her head, the brown and black fabric of her clothing allowing her to blend in with the forest around her. She ran a finger over the brilliant blue fletching of one of her arrows and closed her eyes, waiting. Listening. She had followed the deerdrin tracks here, its trail mingling with others in the well-traveled spot before her.
	Her lips quirked up slightly as she heard the familiar sound of her prey ruffling through the woods. A gentle scratching, sniffling sound came from the tress off to her right. She opened her eyes and nocked one of her arrows, keeping its tip pointed down.
	A creature resembling a muscular deer with thick legs, massive antlers that entwined together in an impossible knot, and paws with claws ambled out from between a couple bent trees about five yards in front of her. Its furless, wrinkled hide was black with perfectly circular brown patches dotted about it. It almost looked cute--at least, it would if not for the chillingly empty, glowing crimson eyes veined with black that plagued this generation of animals. Animals born into the Curse. Animals without souls and guided by only the instinct to hunt and kill. The Forgen.
	Elayra silently drew back her bowstring, aiming at the beast’s heart as it sniffed at the ground with its long, slender nose like a dog hunting for a bone. She exhaled softly, one of the deerdrin’s ears twitching in her direction, then loosed the arrow.
	The animal’s head snapped up, but it was too slow; the arrow sunk deep into its flesh near its heart. It let out a howl of pain that sounded more like a screeching child than an animal, then turned its snarling face to her. Thick green saliva coated the animal’s sharp teeth and strung between its jaws. The animal lunged, its claws extended.
	Elayra hastily nocked another arrow and jumped backward out of the hallow tree as she let the second arrow fly. It embedded deep in the beast’s chest. With another pained snarl, it landed where the girl had just stood, and swiped at her, its head twisting madly as it tried to snag her with its antlers.
	She bent back as she hopped away, just avoiding the beast’s razor-sharp claws and gnarly antlers.  She reached to draw her sword sheathed opposite her quiver, but the animal gave out a bleak cry, and, with a final shudder and swing of its head, fell still.
	“You’ve been gifted peace in this nightmarish world,” she muttered to the animal, the glow in its eyes fading away as life fully left it.
	She gripped the beast’s antlers and, with no little effort, pulled its corpse from where it hung partially over the tree. She stopped and glared down at it, contemplating the best method of getting it back to camp. She had not planned on catching a kill this large, but she had been incapable of resisting the challenge it presented.
	Her head cocked slightly, and every muscle in her body tensed at the gentle crunch of a footstep behind her. In a heartbeat, she drew her sword and spun around.
	The [i]clang[/i] of metal colliding with metal rang through the forest as saber blocked katana, making a few of the nearby trees shudder.
	Her face twisted in an irritated scowl as she recognized the sword before the man.
	“And I was worried you were letting your guard down.” The man smirked, his voice as smooth and cold as polish marble.
	His skin, even his lips, was an alabaster white, the color made more prominent by his darker clothes. He looked in his late twenties or early thirties, and though his sharp features may have once been handsome, they were worn with stress, worry, and a tinge of insanity. His eyes bore evidence of being tainted by the Curse. His irises were a glazed dark red with spider webs of black, and onyx lines spread out from the corners of his eyes.
	“I don’t need your help hunting, Drust.” She stepped back and pulled her sword from his with a [i]shing.[/i] “I can handle myself.”
	Drust let out a half-crazed laugh and swung his katana through the air. Elayra flinched back and raised her sword, ready if he decided here would make a good training arena.
	The White Knight’s neck twitched with a crack as he looked to the dead deerdrin, a distant cocky smile on his lips. “You can drag this carcass back to camp by yourself, can you?”
	“I’ll find a way,” Elayra snapped, following his gaze to the corpse and silently questioning her statement.
	Drust snorted, and returned his katana to the sheath strapped to his back. “As entertaining as it’d be to watch [i]that,[/i]” he gripped the beast’s antlers with gloved hands, “I’m not here for a show. We have work to do. Lift its hind feet.”
	“I [i]said[/i] I can get it my--”
	Drust’s face twisted in a toothy, warning snarl, his teeth as white as the rest of him. “Grab. It’s. Legs, Elayra,” he hissed threateningly, shoving the deerdrin’s face into the ground in extra emphasis. “We’ve wasted enough time. And this,” he nodded at the animal, “isn’t going to help.”
	Elayra gave a snort of her own as she sheathed her saber. “Fine.”
	She went behind the dead animal and did as Drust ordered, gripping its thick legs. Together, the two began to drag the animal that would provide them meat for a few meals to come, their wary gaze constantly shifting about their surroundings, both searching for any sign of spies or other trouble as they made their way back to their camp.