To Love The Hunters Daughter

Evelyn

Most people feared the woods.

I craved them.

They said the trees were cursed, that shadows moved where they shouldn't, that monsters with eyes like wildfire and teeth like knives hunted anything foolish enough to cross their path.

That's what my father told me every night when I was a child, when the wind howled and I clutched my blanket tighter.

But I didn't believe in monsters. Not the kind he described, anyway.

The woods were quiet. Peaceful. Unlike the training yards echoing with gunfire and commands shouted. Unlike our home, where the walls breathed my father's rules and expectations into every room. In the woods, I could breathe, think, could be someone other than Dorian Vale's daughter.

So, I snuck away-again.

Slipping past the main compound wasn't hard. Most of the hunters were busy prepping for some new patrol. My father would be gone until dusk, and even if he weren't, he never checked my room until dinner. My feet knew the path by heart, woven into my bones from years of rebellion done in silence.

As soon as I passed the treeline, something inside me exhaled. The air was crisp and damp, laced with moss and pine. Leaves whispered above brushing against one another like secrets passed through centuries. The deeper I walked, the more the tension in my shoulders unraveled.

This place wasn't just a hiding spot-it was sacred. It belonged to itself. Here, I didn't have to train or obey. I didn't have to measure up to the ghost of the perfect daughter my father imagined. Here, I could simply be Evelyn.

I found my usual spot near a crooked ash tree with bark twisted like ribbons. The clearing was small and tucked away bordered by stones and moss, like a secret room nature had carved out just for me.

I spread out my thin blanket, and settled into the hush and I pulled out the only thing that made sense anymore-books about a girl who became a knight. About courage and kindness in a world that prized brutality. I've read it five times already.

Still, I opened it again.

As I read, the rest of the world slipped away. Words wrapped around me like a warm cloak, drawing me in, reshaping everything. The birds sang overhead, and now and then, the wind would nudge my hair into my eyes like a teasing friend. I tilted my head to feel the sun on my skin, savoring the brief warmth before autumn swallowed it for good.

The birds sang and now and then the wind nudged my hair into my eyes. I tilted my face to feel the sun on my skin. For a while, there was only the book, the forest, and me.

Time slipped away. I lost myself in the pages until the sky darkened slightly, and the shadows began to lengthen.

That's when I noticed the silence.

Not peaceful silence. Sharp. Heavy. Like a held breath. No birdsong. No rustling leaves. Just... stillness.

A snap echoed through the trees.

I froze. It was subtle but it pulled me back to the present like a slap. I glanced up, heart thudding.

"Probably just a rabbit," I murmured.

But rabbits didn't step like that.

Carefully, I closed my book, listening. Nothing. But the air had shifted. My neck prickled. Something unseen pressed at the edge of the clearing. I thought I saw movement-a tall, dark flicker-but it vanished.

The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. The air had changed.I stood slowly, book clutched like a shield. "Is someone there?"

No answer.

And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling-like being watched by something older than time itself. I turned, taking one cautious step back toward the trail.

Then another.

A low growl rolled from the underbrush.

Every instinct screamed to run, but my feet refused to move. I could barely breathe.

Then-

"Evelyn!"

My father's voice shattered through the trees like a rifle shot.

The presence vanished-like it had never been there.

And suddenly, the forest came alive again. Wind rushed through the branches, birds chirped, and the shadows receded but the pounding in my chest didn't stop.

He stormed into the clearing, black gear rustling, fury etched across his face. His hand twitched near the knife strapped to his chest.

He grabbed my arm. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"I-I was just reading," I stammered.

"In the forest? Alone?" His voice cracked with fury. "Have I taught you nothing?"

I tried to explain, but his eyes swept the area, body tensed like a coiled spring.

"There were new tracks today. Deep. Clawed. You could've been killed, Evelyn."

"But nothing happened-"

"Yet," he snapped.

I winced. His grip on my arm wasn't bruising, but it was firm-commanding. The way he looked at me wasn't the way a father should look at his daughter. It was how a commander looked at a liability.

"I didn't go far."

He didn't believe me. I saw it in his eyes.

The fury in his face gave way to something else-fear. "If anything had happened to you..." His voice dropped. "You're the only family I have left."

That words struck deep, but the feeling of being watched still stayed with me.

"You are not to come out here again. Do you understand?"

"I'm not a child-"

"No, you're not. Which means you should start acting like a Vale. This isn't a game, Evelyn. You can't run into the woods every time you want to pretend the world is gentler than it is."

I looked away, biting back the words I wanted to say. Cause what would be the point?

He released my arm and I cradled it against my chest as he scanned the woods once more. "Go home. I'll follow in a minute."

I nodded and turned, keeping my head low as I picked my things.

I got home and climbed the narrow stairs to the attic and opened the window. The air smelled like damp earth and gun powder. The sun had almost vanished now, dipping beneath the trees like it, too, was afraid of the dark.

I pressed a hand to the glass and stared at the forest.

I knew I should be afraid.

But I wasn't.

Because whatever had beer in out there hadn't wanted to hurt me.

If anything... I felt drawn to it.

And worse-some small part of me knew, deep down it wasn't finished with me yet.

Evelyn

I had been in the attic for quite some time thinking, dreaming. Of a different life, one where I wasn't bound by my father's constant rules.

Where I could slip between shadows unnoticed. Where the forest didn't feel like a prison's edge, but an invitation.

Everything had its place in the Vale house. My satchel and book went straight to the small chest at the foot of my bed. The window I'd left cracked earlier had already been shut and locked-likely by one of the maids.

Even the air felt staler, like someone had scrubbed my presence from the room while I was gone. I trailed my fingers over my desk, grounding myself in the routine I'd outgrown.

I was allowed to read, but only after training. Only the books Father deemed "appropriate." War tactics. Weaponry. Field medicine. Nothing with magic. Nothing romantic. Definitely nothing where the wolves weren't monsters.

But he couldn't monitor my thoughts. Not yet.

I descended the stairs just as Father entered behind me, boots heavy on the stone floor. His expression wasn't anger anymore-it was worse. Controlled disappointment. The kind that curled into you like a hook.

"You disobeyed me," he said.

"I know."

He dropped his gear at the base of the stairs and walked past me into the main hall. The house was a fortress-stone walls, reinforced windows, and a study filled with weapons instead of books. A dozen hunters called this compound home, but our house sat above the rest. Overlooking them. Like a throne.

He motioned for me to follow.

I hesitated, then obeyed.

The training grounds glowed under floodlights beyond the windows. Even this late, hunters were shouting and firing rounds. It never stopped. We were always waiting and preparing for war.

Inside the den, Father poured himself a glass of something dark. He didn't offer me anything.

"You've always had a soft heart," he said. "That's not a flaw. But it can be a weakness."

"Going into the forest doesn't mean I'm weak," I said.

"It means you're reckless. You think the world is kind just because the sun filters through the trees. But Evelyn, this world is not kind. Not to people like us."

"People like us?"

"Hunters. Survivors." His eyes sharpened. "You forget who we are. What we've lost."

I didn't need reminding. The photograph in the entryway haunted me-my mother's smile frozen in time, her eyes crinkling with laughter. I couldn't remember her voice, only the stories. How the wolves tore through her squad. How my father found her too late. How she died before I ever spoke my first word.

It was a hole in my memory but a permanent scar in his.

He took another sip. "You'll be doubling your training. Your patrol observations start tomorrow."

I blinked "Patrols?"

"You're nineteen. Most girls your age are already in the field. If you want to earn your name as a Vale, start carrying your weight."

I wanted to argue. To say I didn't want to hunt, didn't want to aim a crossbow at something that bled like me. But I didn't. He wouldn't hear it.

"I saw signs in the woods today," he said. "A pack's near our border. They're getting bolder."

My stomach turned. "Did you see them?"

"No. But the tracks were fresh. You were lucky."

I wasn't so sure. I didn't feel lucky, I felt... watched. Claimed.

"Do you know what they do to humans they catch, Evelyn?" His voice dropped. "They don't just kill us. They toy with us. Break us. Wolves are cunning. They wear the shape of men to fool people like you. But they're beasts. Always have been."

A shiver crept down my spine.

"You are never to go into that forest again. Not without me. Not ever. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

His eyes softened-briefly. "I only want to keep you safe."

That might've been true. But safety under my fathers rule always came with a leash.

He waved me away, already reaching for a file. His mind had moved on-to strategy, reports, gear manifests. The attack on my freedom had already been filed away under "necessary corrections."

Upstairs, I didn't go to bed. I stood at the window, watching the forest sway beneath the stars. I should be terrified.

Instead, something in my chest ached.

Something that didn't fit the neat little cage of expectations built for me.

Morning came too early.

I woke to the sound of footsteps and barking orders. The camp came alive at dawn and so did training. I dressed quickly- thick boots, cotton tunic, the standard hunter jacket. My braid was tight. My satchel, packed with books I was 'supposed' to carry.

The aches in my shoulders from yesterday's training had settled, but I pushed past them. Pain was expected.

Downstairs, the house buzzed. Maps, gear, loaded weapons. I passed through quietly, ignoring the nods and glances of the other hunters. Everyone knew who I was. Dorian's daughter. The disappointment.

Saturday meant drills and weapons inspection. Just another day. Unfortunately for me, my father is making me do double.

I found my father in the kitchen, coffee in hand, radio crackling.

He didn't look up. "Eat something. Then yard."

I grabbed half a protein bar. The clock ticked.

7:00 a.m. sharp.

Outside, the air smelled like iron and smoke. The yard echoed with shouted commands and the slap of bodies hitting mats.

"Late again," barked Lieutenant Merren. She tossed me a wooden staff. "Get in line."

We trained until my whole body screamed in protest. Strike. Block. Counter. I was average at best, too slow, too hesitant. She shouted corrections until my cheeks burned. The other girls glanced my way-some smug, some pitying.

I hated those looks the most.

Other hunters were doing formation training, target practice, perimeter tracking.. But I was the only girl without a red armband, which marked trainees still under review.

Father said I didn't need one. Said I was better.

But better didn't mean free.

After drills, I cleaned weapons. Filed reports. My knuckles were raw, my head pounding.

But I didn't complain.

This was my life.

This was what it meant to be a Vale.

By midday, I was bruised, sore, and exhausted. But the worst part wasn't the pain.

It was knowing I didn't belong here.

Not in this war.

Not in this world.

Not when the forest still called with the promise of something else.

Something that didn't feel like a cage.

Something that looked back.

Evelyn

The forest had never felt dangerous before.

Even when I was little, slipping through the trees barefoot with leaves in my hair, it had always felt like a friend. A secret place. Mine.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the woods felt like they were holding their breath.

Maybe it was because I wasn't supposed to be here. Or maybe it was because something had changed-something I could feel, like static beneath my skin.

It was late. Too late. The sun had already sunk beyond the pines, staining the sky in bruised purples and dusky gold. I wasn't far from the compound-only a few minutes beyond the inner perimeter. Still, if my father found out, there would be hell to pay.

But after today's drills, I needed air. Not the kind that smelled like sweat and metal. The kind that smelled wild-damp moss and pine needles and something older beneath it all.

The forest had always felt like my secret reprieve. Even now, when I knew I shouldn't be out here, it still felt like the only place I could breathe.

I crept deeper into the underbrush, hugging the edges of the main trail. A guilty kind of thrill buzzed in my veins. I wasn't supposed to be here. Not after curfew. Not after everything my father had drilled into me about the "monsters" that lived past the marked line.

But I couldn't sleep-not with the weight of his disappointment clinging to my skin like soot.

Maybe I was trying to prove something. I didn't know. I just needed to breathe without being watched.

Moonlight filtered through the canopy in thin, silvery blades. The air was cool, scented with pine sap and something else-wild and unfamiliar.

My boots crunched softly on fallen needles. A few yards ahead, the trail dipped into a denser thicket where the trees pressed close like shoulders.

I stepped over a low branch and made my way down a slope slick with leaf mulch. The forest whispered-crickets, the rustle of wings, the wind.

But underneath it all... silence.

Too still.

I stopped.

There it was again.

That feeling again. Like eyes crawling over my skin.

I wasn't alone.

I turned slowly, fingers hovering near the knife on my belt. A rustle came from behind-too deliberate for wind. Too heavy for a deer.

My breath hitched.

There was no reason to be afraid. Not this close. Not with my training. But fear wasn't logical. It curled through me anyway, sharp and cold.

I turned slowly, scanning the trees..

Nothing.

Still the feeling didn't go away.

The shadows stretched long. Every breeze, a whisper. The trees didn't move quite right–like they were waiting. Watching.

No.

Someone was watching.

"Hello?" I called, heart thudding. "Is someone there?"

No answer.

I took a cautious step back. The moon was barely a sliver above the trees, its light did little to ease the darkness swallowing the underbush.

I should leave. Get back to the camp before anyone noticed I was gone.

Another step-

A twig snapped to my left.

I turned toward the sound. "Who's there?"

No answer.

I reached for the small hunting knife at my belt. It wasn't much, just a training knife I'd stolen from the armory but it was better than nothing.

I crouched, every muscle tense.

Then I saw them.

Eyes.

Not just glowing. Burning.

Instinct slammed through me. I shoved myself back against a tree, heart pounding. The blade in my hand felt suddenly useless.

"Stay calm," I whispered, though my voice trembled. "Don't run."

The forest wasn't a friend anymore. It was a trap.

The eyes blinked. Then vanished.

A soft scrape of claws on bark echoed near my right side.

I twisted-just in time to see a dark figure dart behind an oak.

A werewolf.

I'd heard the stories all my life, trained to hate and fear them. Cunning creatures who stalked and killed without mercy.

Yet here, alone and vulnerable, I couldn't shake the strange pull–the magnetic power of the forest now tangled with raw, primal terror.

I bolted.

Branches clawed at my entire body as I ran blindly through underbrush, muscles burning, lungs gasping. Footfalls thundered behind me-fast. Relentless.

"Stop!" a growl snapped through the dark, low and commanding.

I didn't stop.

I veered left, then right, hoping to confuse them. But the steps followed, never missing a beat. They were herding me.

I skidded down a slope, hands catching on trunks. My legs begged to stop. I couldn't.

I pushed harder but didn't see the root until it snagged my boot.

I fell hard, scrambled up but I wasn't fast enough..

A weight slammed into me, sending me sprawling.

I tried to crawl, but rough hands grabbed my wrists, pinning me.

My knife clattered away.

"Quiet," a voice snarled close to my ear, breath hot and wild.

I struggled. "Please-I won't tell anyone, I won't-"

The grip didn't loosen.

I looked up.

Yellow eyes. Sharp teeth. A snarl.

I was caught.

Fear hollowed me out as they hauled me upright.

The werewolf's grip was iron, fingers digging into my skin. Shadows closed in, swallowing everything except the yellow that followed my every move.

Branches whipped my face, but the creature didn't slow. The scent of wet fur and earth overwhelmed me.

"Where... where are you taking me?" I asked, voice small.

No answer. Just a growl as we climbed a narrow, hidden trail I hadn't noticed before..

The forest felt different now. Taller. Crueler.

The moon cast silver light on metal cuffs around my wrists-cold and biting.

Bound.

I tried to wriggle free. Panic surged in choked sobs.

My father's voice echoed in my mind. They don't spare prey.

I used to think that was a threat.

Now I wasn't sure it wasn't a promise.

Suddenly, more footsteps echoed nearby. Others moving through the dark.

Crunching leaves. Growls.

I was surrounded.

Not just caught.

Claimed.

I squeezed my eyes shut as they dragged me deeper into the dark.

The forest no longer whispered freedom.

It roared with the promise of captivity.

It was my prison.