Chapter 4 A Hunter's Warning

Lila burst from the edge of the forest, gasping, scratched raw by thorns that snagged her cloak and tangled in her hair. Her legs trembled with every step as she stumbled down the rocky path behind the old chapel, the hidden route she always used to sneak back unnoticed.

She didn't stop running until Raven Hollow's weathered rooftops rose into view, quiet and deceptively ordinary under the soft glow of the late morning sun. She leaned against the crooked fence behind her family's henhouse, pressing a hand to her pounding heart.

She could still hear him - the echo of Adrien's roar as he turned to fight something in the trees. She knew she should feel terrified. Instead, a feverish certainty burned through her veins: he had protected her again. And this time, it wasn't chance.

Inside the cottage, her mother nearly shrieked when she saw the state of her cloak.

"Where in heaven's name have you been?" She seized Lila's shoulders, pulling her close to inspect the scratches that crisscrossed her neck. "You look like you wrestled a thorn bush - and lost!"

Lila forced herself not to flinch at her mother's worried touch. She couldn't tell the truth. Who would believe she had spoken to the Midnight Wolf twice and lived?

"I was sketching near the old mill pond. I tripped in the brambles when I heard... a fox." The lie tasted bitter. But her mother's sigh of relief made her swallow her guilt.

"Next time, call for Ben to go with you. A girl wandering alone - it isn't right."

Her mother pressed a cool cloth to the worst scratches, grumbling about foolishness and forest spirits under her breath. Lila let her fuss, nodding when needed, but her mind was miles away - lost among the moss and moonlight where Adrien still prowled, chained to a prison only she seemed to see as a man, not a beast.

The sun dipped lower by the time Lila slipped back outside, a woven basket swinging from her arm to hide her true intention. She told her mother she was going to gather herbs for the stew. Instead, her boots turned instinctively toward the chapel again.

She didn't know what she planned to do. She only knew she had to see him - to know he had survived whatever came hunting her scent.

But as she crested the hill behind the chapel, her heart lurched into her throat. She wasn't alone.

A man crouched at the forest edge, long coat brushing the grass, a hunting rifle strapped across his back. He stood slowly when he heard her footsteps, turning to face her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Well now, Miss Ainsley," he drawled, tipping his hat. "Didn't expect to see you wandering this path alone."

Lila swallowed. "Good evening, Mr. Thorn. I'm just gathering herbs."

She knew him, of course. Everyone did. Gideon Thorn was Raven Hollow's huntsman - and its self-appointed protector from the beasts the elders swore were nothing more than bedtime tales. He had the look of a man who smiled too easily but laughed too rarely. And his eyes - cold as a winter stream - missed nothing.

"Herbs, hm?" He stepped closer, boots silent on the moss. "You know, I followed your footprints this morning. Deep into the Hollow. Farther than any good girl ought to go."

Lila's blood turned to ice. "I- I got lost."

Thorn clicked his tongue, circling her like a patient wolf. "Funny thing, though. Found tracks I haven't seen since my father's day. Claw marks big as my palm. And a patch of moss burned clean through with silver dust. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Miss Ainsley?"

Her throat worked around a lie that refused to come. She forced herself to meet his sharp gaze.

"No, Mr. Thorn."

His smile widened, wolfish and humorless. "Be careful, child. Old things wake hungry when foolish girls wander where they don't belong. If I catch wind you've gone back there - well." He tapped the rifle at his back, the motion casual and chilling at once. "I won't aim to scare him next time."

Before she could answer, he tipped his hat again and strode past her down the hill, humming a tune that made her skin crawl.

By the time the huntsman's silhouette disappeared among the cottages, dusk had unfurled its cloak over the village. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, warm glows behind shuttered windows that made Lila feel like an outsider in her own home.

She clutched her empty basket to her chest, breath unsteady. Thorn had followed her trail. He knew. If he found Adrien chained and weakened - if he shot him down like a rabid dog...

She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't.

That night, sleep refused to come. Every creak of the cottage walls made her flinch. Every distant bark or owl's cry dragged her thoughts back to the forest clearing where Adrien waited, alone, maybe wounded.

At the third toll of the chapel bell - midnight - she rose from her bed. She dressed in silence, wrapping her cloak tight to muffle the whisper of fabric. She tucked a small bread loaf into her basket along with a scrap of smoked meat - offerings that felt pitifully human compared to the chains binding a cursed prince.

Before slipping out, she paused at her mother's bedside. The older woman slept curled on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, breathing steady and soft. For a heartbeat, Lila nearly turned back. But the image of Thorn's rifle gleamed behind her eyelids.

The forest swallowed her whole within minutes. The moon hung low, shy behind drifting clouds, but its ghostlight guided her feet along the hidden paths. She clutched her basket like a talisman, heart drumming an unsteady rhythm of fear and resolve.

At the clearing, she stopped short. The moss lay flattened, disturbed by recent struggle. Branches overhead were snapped clean through - signs of a fight, or worse.

"Adrien?" she whispered. "It's me. Lila."

Silence answered. The trees loomed close, ancient and watchful. The wind carried only the damp scent of pine and old earth.

Then, from the far side of the clearing, a low growl rumbled like distant thunder.

She turned - and there he was.

He stood half in shadow, half in silver moonlight, his bare chest streaked with drying blood, fangs glinting where his lips pulled back in warning. But his eyes - those wild, molten eyes - softened the instant they recognized her.

"You shouldn't have come back," he rasped. His voice was rougher than before, raw from snarls and battle.

"You're hurt," she said, voice breaking. "I brought-"

He lunged, chains clanking, closing the space between them in two strides. His hands - claws and all - closed over her shoulders, not gently but not cruelly either.

"Lila, you don't understand," he hissed. "You've marked yourself. By coming here again, by knowing my name - you're not safe anywhere now."

She trembled but didn't step back. "Then teach me how to fight them. Teach me how to free you."

For the first time, his smile wasn't bitter. It was heartbreaking.

"Oh, foolish girl," he murmured, voice softer than moonlight. "You'd shatter your world for a monster?"

She lifted her chin. "Not a monster. My wolf."