White Stag (Permafrost #1)(20)

“Go hunting, Janneke.”

I gave a brisk nod and motioned to Rekke. The young she-goblin’s eyes were dull, and she glowered at her older relatives before grudgingly stalking over to her horse. My own bow was already slung over my back and everyone else wore their weapons, but Rekke’s bow was attached to her saddlebags with complicated straps. It was stupid and sloppy and would probably get her killed, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.

She joined my side, and I opened my senses to the other creatures in the sparse woods. Then I started to track.

I’d always been good at tracking. For my father watching his lastborn daughter fulfill the role of his firstborn son, it was one of the few things he took pride in. We’d hold competitions in the village where, during the dead of night, we would sneak through the forests to try to find and capture one another. People would bet on which hunter they thought would get the most “kills” and who would survive the longest without being seen. To the fury of the men, I was always the winner. Becoming invisible, adapting so I was one with the environment, was always my strong suit.

I walked lightly through the underbrush, my steps barely making a sound. I could sense Rekke’s presence behind me. She didn’t speak, but I could feel the eagerness radiating off her in waves, and I hoped that it wasn’t directed toward getting me alone.

The tips of my fingers tingled as I got close to a source of power. It was small, nothing close to the power of a predator, but it still prickled at my fingertips and flowed through my body like ice water, bringing it to life. Ever since the power of the lordling had absorbed into my skin, the goblin-like senses had become sharper. I’d never seen the prey lines on the ground as clearly as I did now, nor had I ever been able to sense the power coming off of others. Before it was an abstract concept, but now it was something tangible, as if I could feel it in my hands and manipulate it into the shape I chose. I reached for the nail in my bracer’s pocket, relieved when I didn’t feel the hint of a burn. I was safe. I wasn’t changing, not yet.

My ears sensed the rabbit before my eyes did; and my arrow went through its eye before it could run. I picked it up, pulling the arrow out of it, and strung the dead animal across my belt. One down, countless more to go. I knew how much goblins could eat.

A deer would’ve been better, but I’d have more luck finding a unicorn than a deer able to graze in these scrublands. The naked skeleton trees and the scraggily grass barely were considered life.

Rekke didn’t hide her thrill at my skills. “Wow,” she said. “You’re amazing at that.”

“For a human?” I asked, letting some of the bitterness seep into my tone. If she was mainly raised by Elvira, I wouldn’t be surprised to find she viewed humans the same way.

The young goblin’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No, I meant in general. You’re really good with the bow.”

I turned to look at the small she-goblin, shocked at the compliment. It’d been so easily given and wasn’t shrouded in the double meanings behind most of the words her kind spoke. She really was young, then. A prick of pity stabbed at my heart. What was a girl like her doing under the supervision of Elvira? What was she doing out here on the Hunt when she barely had enough power to participate? I reached out with my senses and could vaguely grasp her power, shrouding her like purple mist, but it was brittle and easy to break. Perhaps Elvira brought her along to kill her.

The thought covered me like a thick, dark cloud. It wasn’t unknown for goblins to kill their competitors—it was practically encouraged. Soren had killed his father to get his seat; as far as I knew his father had killed his father; the line went on and on. But the thought of this young, almost harmless girl dead because of the threat she might one day pose pressed heavy against my chest. She was a goblin. Not a girl. I couldn’t think of her as one. Convincing myself she was evil would’ve been easier if she hadn’t been looking at me with those wide eyes.

“It’s an easy shot,” I said, wiping off the blood from my arrow, trying not to think too hard. “You want to try the next one?”

She nodded eagerly, but when the next rabbit appeared, her aim sent the arrow flying into the tree above. I raised my eyebrows as the rabbit took off, then quickly swung my axe from where it was sheathed and threw it. It turned three times in the air before sinking itself deep into the rabbit’s hide. My heart raced at the swiftness of it and the exhilaration coursing through my veins.

Rekke kicked the ground, embarrassed. “I’m … not a particularly good shot. I can throw knives, but they’re harder to kill animals with. Besides, my throwing knives are poison, so we couldn’t eat anything they killed.”

That was something to tell Soren, in case an event came up where Rekke got stabby. Poisoned throwing knives. I knew for a fact Lydian poisoned his greatspear. I also knew that dying of goblin-made poison was not a good way to go.

I yanked my axe out of the rabbit and slung it onto my belt while it still dripped blood. The hot fluids covered the leathers on my thigh, but it didn’t bother me.

Rekke stood with her head still bowed, looking so pitiful my heart gave a squeeze.

“Perhaps I can teach you to be a better shot, if you’ll have that.” The words were out of my mouth before I thought them through. She looked so human, my aching heart had to do something despite my mind screaming for it to stop. This child—no, this she-goblin—could not be my friend, could never be my friend.