Marked By the Hunter's Daughter

Darkness blanketed the forest like a heavy cloak. Alexander moved carefully through the underbrush, the strap of his old backpack digging into his shoulder. The flashlight in his hand flickered, barely lighting the narrow trail ahead. Behind him, Raymond grumbled, swatting at mosquitoes. “This was your idea,” Raymond whispered. “Hunting rabbits at night? Seriously?” Alex smirked. “You said you wanted fresh meat, not supermarket garbage.” “Yeah, but I didn’t sign up for getting eaten by something bigger than us.” Leaves rustled to their left. Both boys froze. Alex raised his flashlight slowly, its beam trembling just a little. The light caught a pair of glowing eyes between the trees low to the ground, unmoving. Raymond leaned closer. “That’s not a rabbit.” Alex didn’t answer. His heart thudded loud in his chest. He took one step back. Then it happened. A deafening roar tore through the woods. Low, guttural, animal but not like anything they’d ever heard before. It echoed through the trees, and the ground itself seemed to shake beneath their feet. “RUN!!” Alex shouted and they bolted running as fast as they could. Branches whipped against their faces. Roots snagged their shoes. Behind them, something massive crashed through the trees louder, faster, closer. Raymond stumbled and nearly fell, but Alex grabbed his arm and yanked him upright. They didn’t look back. The roar came again, closer this time. Alex’s lungs burned, legs pumping like mad. All he could think was Keep running, don’t stop, don’t look back but then something slammed into him from the side. He hit the ground hard. The beast drove it teeth into Alex hand and Pain exploded inside him. He rolled over, eyes wide and saw it, the beast has red terrifying eyes and then everything went black. ...... He jolted awake gasping for breath and soaked in sweat. The sheets tangled around him like vines. The alarm clock screeched beside him, pounding in his ears like a siren. “f**k!” he snapped, bolting upright. His hand flew toward the clock, ready to smash it—but he stopped himself just in time. Aunt Laurel’s warning rang in his head: Break one more alarm, and you're getting a sundial. He gritted his teeth and hit the button instead. The ringing stopped, but his scowl stayed. You're on borrowed time, clock. He swung his legs over the bed only to freeze with a sharp gasp. Pain shot up his left arm. "Argh..." he hissed, grabbing it tight. His fingers brushed something—bite marks. Jagged, raw. His skin was swollen, angry red. A flicker of memory hit him: growls, flashing teeth, something big lunging out of the dark. But it was fuzzy. Like a dream slipping away the moment you tried to hold it. Then it hit him hard. A wave of heat behind his eyes. His vision dimmed, turned red, then flashed back. In that moment, he saw something a beast, eyes glowing, roaring in the dark. He couldn’t tell if it was a bear or a wolf or something worse. Then it was gone. He stumbled back, crashing into the wall, gasping like he’d been punched in the chest. “What the hell was that…?” he muttered, holding his head. Whatever it was, it felt real. Too real. But now it was just silence again. Except the pain. The bite was still throbbing. You’re losing it, Alex. Maybe it’s just the flu. Or rabies. Awesome. He dragged himself to the bathroom, still shaken. Ten minutes later, showered and wrapped in a towel, he stared at his closet like it owed him money. After going through nearly every outfit, he finally picked something decent: light blue T-shirt, blue leather jacket, black jeans, and ankle boots with colorful flares. He checked the mirror. Not bad. Looked like a badass. He ran his hand through his hair winced. “s**t,” he hissed again. The bite mark pulsed under his fingers. Grumbling, he dug out the first aid kit, cleaned the wound with alcohol, slapped a plaster on it, then wrapped a bandage around his arm. Alexander rolled down his sleeve and went downstairs when the smell of breakfast hit him hard. Warm, salty, perfect. He followed it into the dining room. Maximus, his ten-year-old cousin, was already there, stuffing his face. ""Hey, Alex!" chirped Maximus, his ten-year-old cousin. The kid's blond hair stuck up in all directions, and his grin was as bright as ever. "Hey, Max. Looking sharp for the girls, huh?" Alex teased, sliding into his chair. "As always," Max replied proudly, puffing out his chest. They exchanged their signature handshake-a rapid sequence of slaps, snaps, and a final fist bump. "Pfft. As if he has any," came a sharp voice. Alex's head turned, locking eyes with Abigail, Max's seventeen-year-old sister and Alex's personal nemesis. "You came back late last night," she said, lips curved into a smug smirk. Her ponytail swayed with each subtle tilt of her head, red lipstick accentuating her taunt. "Care to explain?" Alex raised a brow, unimpressed. "And I owe you an explanation because...?" Her glare sharpened, but she didn't respond. Their rivalry was as old as they were constant, exhausting, and entirely predictable. Before the tension could escalate, Aunt Laurel breezed in from the kitchen, balancing two plates. Despite being in her early forties, she radiated warmth and youthful charm. She was the only reason Alex tolerated this "punishment." After his latest string of fights, pranks, and general chaos at school, his influential father had shipped him off here, stripped him of his generous allowance and privileges. To Alex, it wasn't punishment. It was freedom. "Good morning, Miss Laurel," he greeted, instantly softer as he took the plates from her. "Morning, Alex. Out late again? Did you sleep okay?" Her voice was kind but carried a hint of concern. "Yeah, sorry for worrying you. I was at archery practice with Raymond. Crashed hard when I got back," he lied smoothly. "Just be careful," she said, eyes lingering on him before she turned to pour her coffee. The food before him was simple scrambled eggs garnished with mashed fish, tomatoes, and onions, served with neatly sliced bread but Aunt Laurel's touch made it taste like heaven. He scooped a generous helping of eggs onto his bread and took a massive bite. Flavor exploded on his tongue-juicy, savory, perfectly balanced. It was enough to make him forget about the mysterious bite for a moment. "This is amazing, Miss Laurel. Nearly bit my tongue off," he said through a satisfied grin. She chuckled. "Just a simple breakfast, but at least someone appreciates it. Unlike some people." “Oh come on, Mom!” Max and Abigail said in unison and they all laughed. Alex cleared his plate and walked to the kitchen, humming to himself. Then Ding-dong the doorbell rang and the room went silent. They all turned to the door looking at the direction. They all had the same thought. Who was at the door?