A young woman slinked along the forest floor on all fours, bow and quiver strapped around her torso, flint knife with a bone handle clutched between her teeth. Her hair that was so blonde it shone white was clipped short and caked with mud, blending with the green paint and mud that camouflaged her body, making her outline fade into the foliage. The only aspect of her appearance that could possibly give away her presence to her unsuspecting prey was her stunning, unnatural violet eyes.

The elk bull she watched continued to chew on grass, and across the clearing the elk ate in the young woman saw her hunting partner. Her partner was crouched, perfectly still and staring at the woman. The woman winked, and he let out a small low bird-like whistle. Understanding the signal, the woman lifted her hand and brought it down on a twig with precision, causing a crackle that caused the elk to freeze and look in the woman’s direction. In that moment, the woman’s partner notched his arrow and shot the elk.

The arrow caught between the elk’s ribs, and the elk in his panic began to kick and thrash as he realized he was in danger and dying. The woman’s hunting partners shrank in the shadows, knowing how lethal an elk’s antlers could be. The woman, however, leapt out of the shadows, causing the elk to grind to a halt and stiffen, staring at his enemy.

The woman and elk glared at each other, knowing that this was it. The woman ran her tongue over her lips, licking off the beads of sweat on her upper lip. The elk’s nostrils flared as he huffed, blood running down his sides. They both tensed their muscles, mentally preparing for the ensuing fight. The woman gripped the handle of her knife, murmuring under her breath, “Come at me. I dare you.”

As if the elk understood her taunt, he charged and she smoothly sidestepped, grabbing an antler and swung herself onto his back. As the elk bucked in futile attempts to throw her off, she plunged her knife into the elk’s heart. The elk crumpled and fell to the ground with a mighty thud, pinning one of the woman’s legs under the elk’s huge form. Her comrades came sprinting out of the shadows, quick to aide their leader, whooping and yelling their praise as they came.

Selene, the hunting party’s healer, demanded, “Wilhelmina, can you hear me?”

“I’m fine,” Wilhelmina said, grinning because of the addictive adrenaline rush that was tingling in her muscles, “Just get this thing off of me.”

Andrew, Robert, Zavier, and Kalista came to the side where Wilhelmina lay pinned, and on the count of three lifted the elk so Wilhelmina could crawl out from under it. Kalista planted her hands on her hips and asked, “Exactly what were you thinking, Wilhelmina?”

Wilhelmina lifted her arms as she spoke, letting Selene pat her torso and feel her ribs to make sure nothing was broken, “I had a gut feeling and acted upon it.”

Kalista enunciated, “You could have gotten one of us killed.”

Wilhelmina grabbed Kalista by the neck and shoved her to the ground. Wilhelmina had Kalista pinned, grinding her knee into Kalista’s sternum. Kalista whimpered, trying to shove Wilhelmina off, but Wilhelmina only ground her knee in harder, snarling like a rabid dog.

After a moment Kalista went limp, submitting. Wilhelmina stood and kicked Kalista in the ribs, glaring at her teammates, daring them to try and help Kalista. Zavier’s eyes darted from face to face, taking in the scene. Zavier knelt and ripped Wilhelmina’s knife out of the elk’s chest and offered it to her, asking, “Orders, Mina?”

Wilhelmina looked long and hard at Zavier then accepted the knife. She leaned in and affectionately kissed Zavier on the forehead, like a parent awarding her favorite child. She abruptly turned to her comrades and ordered them to string up the elk. The walk back to the village was silent, for there was nothing to say. As soon as they walked past the watch towers that encompassed the village, a gaggle of people ran up to greet them. They praised their returned heroes and took the elk, preparing it for the Test.

Wilhelmina looked up and saw a tall and muscular figure; Alexander, the leader of the other pack. The Hunters, or “Wolves” as they were aptly nicknamed, worked in pods called “packs”. One pack would stay and guard the perimeter while the other pack hunted. At night, the packs would work in shifts so both packs could get some sleep. Alexander ran his hand through his hair, staring at Wilhelmina with his eyes so dark they looked black. Wilhelmina and Alexander despised each other, even though they had similar dominant personalities, but they did have a mutual respect for one another. Alexander nodded at Wilhelmina, acknowledging his approval of her. Wilhelmina jerked her chin at him, communicating her thanks without actually having to say the word.

Wilhelmina’s pack split up, going to their lodges to wash and change. Each Hunter got his or her own lodge, and Wilhelmina’s was at the end of the chain of lodges on the outskirts of the village that belonged to the packs. Wilhelmina knew her home was on the outer edge of the village so that in the case of an attack she could be dressed and ready to fend off intruders in three minutes flat, but Wilhelmina hated the isolation that her status as a Hunter invoked. Hunters were greatly respected, their only superiors being the Elders of the tribe. Because of this Hunters were adored in the classical sense of the word, meaning to love and fear. Although, Hunters weren’t thought of as people; they were thought of as authority figures— uniforms without faces— and the people avoided them for fear of offending them.
As Wilhelmina scrubbed away the camouflage in her wash-tub that was already full of heated water when she arrived home, she began to see the natural pale color of her skin again, along with her tattoos. Hunters were identified to other tribe’s members by the tattoos they received. Each design had special significance. Each tattoo was given after a certain event or during a certain time; you could read a Hunter’s life story from their skin.
Wilhelmina stepped out of the wash-tub and slipped into her white buckskin pants, slit down the sides and laced for maximum flexibility. Like the tattoos, buckskin was a status symbol; only the most respected were gifted the soft, supple, and malleable buckskin. She pulled on her cotton undershirt and her leather breastplate over that. She slipped into her buckskin moccasins and yanked on her leather arm guards, tightening the laces with her teeth. She attached her knives to a strip of leather tied around her hips, grabbed her bow and quiver, and headed out.
At the main watch tower she met her pack where they waited for Alexander’s pack’s shift to end and theirs to begin. They bided the time by chatting and playing, smoking tobacco from pipes or wrapped in valuable handmade paper (tobacco was another privilege, a treat reserved only for Elders and Hunters). Wilhelmina thoughtfully stared into the woods that surrounded the village, smoking her cigarette and refusing to join in the silly post-hunt banter. The way Wilhelmina saw it, as the leader it was her job to be watching for danger when no one else was.
Robert slapped Andrew upside the head and Andrew growled at him, “I hope the Ones Which We Do Not Speak Of take your sorry-“

“Never say that.” Wilhelmina barked.
The pack fell silent, knowing Wilhelmina’s history with the Ones Which We Do Not Speak Of.
Zavier jerked his chin at the lodge where the Test is held, subtly changing the subject, “Do you remember taking the Test?”
They all shrugged, but privately thought to themselves about how it was impossible to forget. The Test was how it was decided which thirteen-year-olds were chosen to become the next pack. It was forbidden to speak of what the Test was to the children, but it was something nobody who experienced it forgot. In the lodge they would take the corpses of animals and string the insides around the lodge creatively, spreading about buckets of blood, stringing intestines through the eye sockets of skulls, et cetera. The children that handled the excessive gore with a straight face were selected. They saw that the children began to be led one by one into the lodge; Wilhelmina inhaled the smoke a little deeper because she knew her baby brother was a candidate.
About thirty minutes later, the children were lined up outside. A few were unconscious, some rocked themselves back and forth, and some just looked… off. Then there was that brave handful that just acted like nothing ever happened. Wilhelmina couldn’t hear what was happening, but she saw an Elder read off a list of names from the Records. The Records was a leather bound book where the names of all the Hunters that ever served were kept, including Wilhelmina’s parents. After the Test the names of those who handled it the best were written down, and after the children were lined up these names were called off. Wilhelmina felt her mouth go dry and her intestines twist when she saw her little brother Emory step forward.
Alexander and his pack members began climbing down from the towers as the sun set, signaling that their shift was over. Wilhelmina’s lip curled as she watched the arrogant sway to Alexander’s hips as he led his pack over. Alexander sighed, “Our shift is officially over. You’re up, Heinz.”
Wilhelmina grudgingly answered to her clan name, “That’s ‘sir’ to you.”
“A girl inherits her mother’s clan name. A boy inherits his father’s. I don’t see why you’d be offended by being called by your name, Heinz.” Alexander sneered.
“You’re not my friend,” I said, “You don’t have the right to do something as personal as calling me by my clan name. You call me ‘sir’ or ‘Wilhelmina’ if the urge strikes you.”
Alexander laughed, “Whatever, Heinz.”
Wilhelmina and Alexander’s packs held their breath, desperately wishing to witness a fistfight between the two titans. Wilhelmina, however, just asked Alexander in a low tone, “Will you fill in for me for a little bit?”
Alexander snarled, “Why should I-“ Alexander then paused, following Wilhelmina’s eyes. They both watched as an Elder led Emory into another lodge where he would receive his first tattoo and be knighted as an official Hunter. Alexander murmured, “Okay, Heinz.”
He stepped forward and whispered to her so none of the others could hear, “Everyone wants to be us, but few understand that it is a curse in its self. I’m really sorry, Heinz. No one deserves this.”
Wilhelmina thought about the isolation away from the rest of the populace, the crushing pressure of responsibility, and the horrible knowledge that every time she went out in the woods, she might not come back. Worst yet, one of her pack mates, whom she felt deeply and personally responsible for won’t. Wilhelmina’s words slipped out before she could restrain herself, “Thank you, Alex. That means so much to me.”
Instead of stuttering and apologizing over the words she didn’t mean to but wanted to say, she turned on her heel and walked towards the lodge where Emory was. She could hear the packs member’s whispers of shock that Alexander would say something so considerate, and that Wilhelmina would actually thank him and expose herself emotionally. Wilhelmina walked inside the lodge, knowing that she was allowed to go wherever she pleased besides the Border.
Elder Frank was standing to leave, and Wilhelmina respectfully folded her hands and touched her forehead to her thumbs saying, “Elder Frank.”
Elder Frank smiled at her and said, “Hunter Wilhelmina, it’s an honor. You must be most proud of your younger brother.”
Wilhelmina’s eyes flickered to Emory, who lay on his stomach on the dirt floor of the lodge as a young woman stabbed the skin on his back repeatedly with a bone needle, dipping it in soot periodically, and occasionally wiping away the blood that rose from the puncture marks so she could see what she was doing. Wilhelmina murmured, “Yes. Proud.”
The tattooist put on the finishing touches of the design then stood to leave, bowing to Elder Frank and Wilhelmina both before making her exit. Wilhelmina asked Elder Frank, “Can I have a moment alone with my brother?”
“Of course.” Elder Frank said, shuffling out.
Wilhelmina sat down next to Emory. They were both silent for a while, until Emory finally asked, “What’s on your mind, Mina?”
Wilhelmina ran her fingers through Emory’s platinum blond hair, whispering to him, “I feel it, Em. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. They are coming tonight.”
Emory lay still, and his voice was quiet as he guessed, “You’re going after them.”
Wilhelmina continued to stroke his hair, “Yes, I am. I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them for Mom. For Dad. For you. I’ve come to tell you to hide well; the Ones Which We Don’t Speak Of are clever, if anything.”
Emory spoke softly, “Life is like a river. It twists at the most unexpected places. Life twisted when they took Mom, and it twisted again when Dad went in after her and never returned. Now you’re about to do the forbidden; you’re going to go after them, and cross the Border if you have to. Life’s about to twist again, Mina. Be ready for it when it happens.”

Later that night Wilhelmina stood in the watchtower, glaring into the darkness. She took another drag off her cigarette and asked, “What do you think they do with the people they abduct?”
Zavier replied, “I don’t know, Mina. I don’t know.”
Alone in the main watchtower, they had all the privacy in the world, but the Ones Which We Don’t Speak Of were still a touchy subject; the mention of them was said to bring bad luck. Wilhelmina plowed on, “Do you think they eat them? But what would they need to eat them for? They’re plenty of animals to kill in the forest.”
Wilhelmina stared at Zavier as she put out her cigarette, waiting for an answer. Zavier warned as Wilhelmina lit up another cigarette, “You better put that cigarette out; they’ll see the embers and smoke.”
“Don’t be naïve, Zavier. They already know we’re here.”
Zavier’s voice fell to the volume of a whisper as he stared out into the inky darkness, “Then what are they waiting for?”
Wilhelmina licked her lips as she replied, “For the very moment when we least expect it.”
Zavier shook his head and said, “You know Mina, I don’t get you. You’re so stern and all-knowing yet you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean ‘what do you mean’? I mean Alexander, of course. He loves you, you know.”
Wilhelmina scoffed and stubbed out her cigarette, flicking it over the side of the railing.
“No, really!” Zavier said, “I’m sure of it. We do what’s contrary to what we want. He’s spiteful and insults you but he looks at you every time you turn your back. Everyone else seems to miss it, but I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I know when someone’s checking someone else out. And you two check each other out. All the time. I really-“
Wilhelmina spotted humanoid figures between the trees clothed in all back wearing masks to hide their faces. They held rods of lightning and strange deformed sticks of stone that spat tiny spheres of destruction. Wilhelmina let out a loud, fierce, and ear-piercing sound that was somewhere between a screech and a yell to alarm her pack. She planted her feet on the railing and leapt off. She somersaulted as she landed then sprung to her feet.
She sprinted for the woods, ignoring Zavier’s screams that told her to come back. She plunged into the foliage, feeling her way over the familiar territory by scent and the feel of the ground underneath her feet. She paused, listening for them. She heard a twig snap and she pursued the noise, running deeper and deeper into the forest. She knew she was close even though she couldn’t see them. She could hear their panting, smell their sweat, and feel their presence. None went after them, and all thought they were untouchable. All except Wilhelmina, who was chasing shadows in the dark to prove them all wrong.
Wilhelmina grabbed a branch and swung herself over a fallen log, landing on her feet. She realized where she was: the Border. She toed the pathetic two foot wall of stone that marked the Border. No one had ever crossed it before. After a moment of deafening silence she heard soft eerie laughter carry on the wind. She heard whispers in a foreign language coming from the same place the laughter had: across the Border. “They’re mocking me.” Wilhelmina murmured to herself and without a second thought, she hurdled the wall and went deeper.
Wilhelmina smacked into something hard. She ran her hand over it, confused because she wasn’t feeling the bark of a tree. It felt like ivy clinging onto something smooth. She ripped away the ivy and realized that whatever it was, it went up and up. Wilhelmina whispered, “Is this… a wall?”
She heard a crackle behind her and she whirled around, knife in hand. She sniffed the air but held her breath, knowing that if the Ones Which We Do Not Speak Of were going to kill her, they would do so now. A rabbit dashed from one fern to another. She snarled with disgust for herself, because she couldn’t get one lick of the odd scent that the Ones Which We Do Not Speak Of had. They hadn’t been here; she had lost them, and the only way that was possible was if they disappeared into the wall. Wilhelmina may not have been able to explain many things because of her people’s lack of technology, but she knew common sense. They are tangible- she had almost caught them. Wilhelmina had a theory that They were as mortal as any human being, and according to that theory they couldn’t be magical. So how did They disappear into a wall?

Zavier shifted from foot to foot, standing next to the Border.
Andrew asked, his voice a whisper, “Do you think she really crossed it?”
“Duh,” Kalista said, “God, Andy, sometimes you can be such a dumbass. Her tracks lead to this point. We lost the tracks because she probably took a flying leap over the Border- the moron couldn’t just cross the border; she had to leap over it.”
Zavier snapped out of his fretful reverie and snarled, “Watch your mouth!”
Kalista sniffed, “You know it’s true.”
Enrique, who so often kept to himself slowly turned his head and said, “Shut up, Kalista.”
Kalista was furious; her freckled cheeks were a pink so vibrant it rivaled her wild orange hair. Although, if she pushed back on this argument she wouldn’t get a chance to attack Wilhelmina, so there was no point. Kalista bit her lip and looked away instead.
Zavier murmured under his breath, “This makes no sense.”
“What?” Andrew asked.
“They ran away from her. Couldn’t they have just killed her? But, no. They ran. Maybe she scared them? Or is it they went back to their leader because they didn’t know what to do with the situation?” Zavier speculated.
“The second option sounds more feasible.” Selene said, leaning over and touching the wall with her fingertips. “How old is this thing? Do you think it’s always been short or it eroded?”
In the distance, Zavier spotted a white ethereal gleam in the distance. Realizing it was Wilhelmina’s hair he had spotted he leapt over the wall and ran to meet her. He looked her over, checking her skin for marks and counting all her fingers and toes. “You okay?”
Wilhelmina started forward a little, bracing herself against a tree as she mumbled, “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” Zavier said, wrapping his arm around her waist and walked her to the wall.
“What happened?” Selene asked, sitting Wilhelmina on the wall as the rest of the pack drew their weapons, running their eyes over the wilderness for signs of attackers.
Enrique asked, his voice low so he could listen for danger. “Have you been followed?”
“No,” Wilhelmina said, clutching the stitch in her side, “I lost them.”
“Figures.” Kalista spat, rolling her eyes.
“Shut it, Kali.” Andrew said, “You should be glad Wilhelmina’s alive. No offense, Wilhelmina, I was sure They got you.”
“None taken, Andy.”
With that, the pack walked back to the village, twitchy and wary. They all tried to look as calm and serene as possible, even though in all actuality they were one twig snap away from full-blown panic. As they passed the towers, the other pack ran up to meet them. Wilhelmina drew a sharp breath as Alexander bounded up, skin slick with sweat and blood. The vibrant red had a stark comparison to Alexander’s golden skin, hair, and eyes.
“They breached our perimeter.” Alexander informed Wilhelmina between ragged pants.
Wilhelmina looked calm, but the violet of her eyes became a sliver against her onyx pupils. “Who did they take?”
“No one.” Alexandria, Alexander’s baby sister, said.
The entirety of Alexander’s pack stared at Wilhelmina with overwhelming pity in their eyes. She whipped around and looked at her own pack, taking a head count. Zavier, Selene, Enrique, Andrew, Kalista- “Wait, where’s Robbie?”
Andrew murmured, “He stayed behind to help maintain the perimeter.”
Wilhelmina turned back to Alexander, her voice and knees shaking, “Alexander, where is Robbie?”
Wilhelmina stared at the blood slathered on Alexander’s chest and arms, her breath evacuating her lungs as she realized it was not his. “Robert went after the One Which We Do Not Speak Of that broke through the perimeter. But Robert knew that They often go after the children, so he went to the children and waited. When It came for the children Robert was waiting for It.” Alexander looked down, licked his lips, and continued, “He fought bravely. Because of him no one was taken tonight.”
Wilhelmina’s sight was suddenly blurred, and she turned and trudged away, shaking off Zavier’s attempt to grab her arm. Wilhelmina grabbed the nearby post of the main watchtower, her whole body quivering. Wilhelmina felt overwhelmed with nausea. Her knees threatened to give out, and to make matters worse she could not breathe. Each shallow breath was sharp and painful like a dagger, tearing at the soft lining of her esophagus and lungs. “This is my fault,” she thought, “I am the leader. This is my fault. Robert was one of my own. This is my fault. I should have protected him. This is my fault. If it weren’t for me, he would still be alive. His death is my fault. This is my fault. My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault-“
Wilhelmina nearly leapt out of her skin when Zavier placed a hand on her shoulder. Zavier wrapped his arms over hers, sandwiching her between himself and the post. Zavier could feel her violent shaking, and whispered in her ear, “Breathe, Mina. Really breathe. Here, breathe with me. In,” He inhaled deeply then exhaled, “Out. In… out. In… out… in…”
Eventually Wilhelmina mustered to match her breathing to Zavier’s, and her shaking ceased. Wilhelmina and Zavier stood there for what seemed to be forever, his arms around her. Even at her weakest Wilhelmina displayed fierceness in the way she accepted Zavier’s affection: stoically refusing to return his kindness. Although, she didn’t shove him away either.
“Ahem.”
Wilhelmina and Zavier turned to look at the source of the throat-clearing. Elder Winifred stood rigidly a few yards away, glowering at Wilhelmina and Zavier with a scowl on her face. The lines of her scowl grew deeper when Zavier was completely unapologetic as he stepped away from Wilhelmina. Winifred turned to face Wilhelmina and acknowledged her with a curt nod, “Hunter Wilhelmina. The Chosen wish to speak with you.”
“Why would the Chosen want to speak with her?” Zavier demanded.
Elder Winifred snapped, “The Chosen’s intentions are none of your business, boy. They are above you and I, especially you, so go stick your nose where it belongs.”
Zavier and Wilhelmina’s eyes met. Wilhelmina knew that look of protective defiance in Zavier’s eyes. “Go,” Wilhelmina ordered, “I will meet you and the rest of the pack afterwards.”
“Mina-“
“Go!”
Zavier hesitantly walked away wearing the expression of a kicked puppy. Wilhelmina turned to face Elder Winifred and took a deep breath to calm her nerves and dry her eyes. She curled her fingers into fists and said, “I’m ready, Elder Winifred. Take me to them.”