Luna ignores me, focused on her breakfast. I don’t have the energy to question this further; my body needs the protein too desperately. I skin one of the rabbits with trembling fingers and build a small fire.
This pattern continues for four days. Each morning, after climbing down from whatever tree I’ve managed to haul myself up into, I find impeccably killed game waiting—rabbits, birds, once a fat squirrel. My fever slowly breaks, the infection in my leg finally responding to the steady nutrition. The nightly climbs get slightly easier as my strength returns, though I still have to rest frequently during each ascent.
“You’re amazing,” I tell Luna on the fourth morning, holding her close as she purrs against my chest. We’re sitting at the base of an old oak where I spent another uncomfor
