With Kira snug against his chest, he quietly followed the trail, each footprint leading him deeper into the trees. The deer had wandered off, but he was determined to find where they'd gone. The path ahead curved toward a dense thicket, where the tracks grew fresher.
The tracks became more defined, the fresh imprints deep against the packed snow, and Sam's heart rate quickened. He kept his steps light, ears tuned to the forest's whispers, the crunch of snow beneath his boots barely audible. Kira shifted slightly under his jacket, but stayed still. They were close.
Ahead, the thicket opened up into a small clearing bathed in the warm, evening sunlight, and there they were—three deer, grazing near the tree line. Sam's breath hitched. He tightened his grip on his spear, the weight of it reassuring. He wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline or the cold biting through his skin, but his hands trembled.
He sized up the largest one, crouching behind a bush, feeling the tension in his body build like a drawn bowstring.
'Steady. Calm.'
He raised the spear, drawing back his arm.
The throw came fast, but the spear wobbled mid-air, veering slightly off course. It struck the snow just beside the deer, the thud of failure echoing in the quiet clearing. The deer bolted, their forms vanishing into the forest in an instant, leaving only disturbed snow and his failed attempt.
Sam cursed under his breath. His throw had been off—awkward, untrained. He knew he wasn't a hunter, not yet. Still, he stood there for a moment, watching the empty space where the deer had been, frustration bubbling beneath his exhaustion.
He clenched his jaw, bending down to retrieve the spear, and straightened up, setting his eyes in the direction they'd fled.
Sam wasn't about to give up. He could still follow their tracks, even if his first and second attempt had been off. The light was fading, the forest growing colder and darker, but the fresh prints in the snow kept him moving. His breath clouded in the crisp air as he pressed on, gripping the spear tightly.
Kira stirred against his chest now and then, and he reached inside his jacket, pulling out a few of the berries he had stashed away. "Here," he whispered, offering them to her. She nibbled at them eagerly, her tiny body shifting, content as long as her belly was full.
Hours passed, the pale moonlight casting shadows through the trees, and Sam's feet ached from trudging through the snow. Every now and then, he'd catch a glimpse of movement—a flicker of white fur in the distance—but they always stayed just out of reach. Still, he kept going, the hunger gnawing at his stomach, the cold biting at his skin.
Kira's soft purring was the only thing keeping him grounded as they continued deeper into the wilderness. It wasn't just about survival anymore—it was about proving to himself he could do this. He had to.
Sam wiped sweat from his brow, despite the cold, and pressed on. Every few minutes, he bent to examine the prints, checking their direction and depth. The deer were moving slower now; they must be resting soon. His stomach grumbled, but he ignored it.
He felt Kira shift against his chest again, her little paws kneading at his shirt as she curled up tighter. He smiled softly, glad she was still with him—still trusting him, even as the hours dragged on.
Then, a noise—a rustling up ahead. Sam froze, crouching low behind a thick tree trunk, heart pounding. His eyes scanned the moonlit clearing beyond the trees. There, standing at the edge, were the deer. Two of them, their heads down, grazing near the base of a hill.
His fingers tightened around the spear shaft, the cold metal biting into his skin. Slowly, he rose, creeping forward. His breath came in shallow bursts, each step careful and measured, the ground crunching softly beneath him.
The deer didn't see him yet. He was close now, close enough to take the shot. Sam paused, raising the spear, aiming for the larger of the two. He steadied his grip, and as quietly as possible, he pulled back—his muscles coiling for the throw.
'This is it.' He exhaled slowly.
But when he released the spear, it veered off course, the awkward motion of his arm betraying his inexperience again. The spear cut through the air but landed short, hitting the ground just shy of the deer's legs.
The animal jerked its head up, eyes wide in panic, and bolted, disappearing into the thick trees in an instant.
"Dammit…" He stood there for a moment, chest heaving from the adrenaline. He couldn't help but feel the frustration building, his fists clenching at his sides. The hunt had been so long, so exhausting—and for nothing.
Kira poked her head out from his jacket, her eyes blinking up at him, as if sensing his disappointment. He sighed, scratching behind her ears gently.
"We'll get 'em next time," Sam whispered, more to himself than to her.
Sam glanced around, suddenly aware of just how far he'd wandered. The familiar landmarks were gone, replaced by dense forest stretching in every direction. His breath caught in his throat as he realized he couldn't see any trace of their cave. He had ventured further than ever before, and in the dead of night, it became all too easy to feel lost.
He quickly knelt down and scanned the ground, finding his own tracks in the soft earth. His relief was short-lived, though, as a chill ran through him. He needed to get back to the cave—back to safety.
Tucking Kira gently into his jacket, he began following the path he had left behind. Every now and then, he glanced over his shoulder, his senses on high alert. The wilderness around him was quiet, but the shadows played tricks on his mind, the trees shifting unnervingly in the faint moonlight. As he retraced his steps, his legs grew heavier with each passing minute, exhaustion settling in.
Sam pushed through the fatigue, forcing one foot in front of the other. The forest seemed endless, the trees blending into each other in the moonlit gloom. His body ached from the day's events—the gash on his side still throbbed, despite the cauterization. But he kept moving, determined.
Kira shifted beneath his jacket, her small head poking out just slightly as she stirred. He reached up to rub her head gently, trying to comfort them both.
"We're almost there, girl," he whispered, though he wasn't entirely sure how close they really were.
As he followed the faint trail of his tracks, the woods began to thin, opening up just enough for him to recognize the familiar terrain near the cave, barren fields of snow. Relief flooded his chest as he caught sight of the rocky outcropping in the distance. They'd made it.
The fire was long dead by now, just as he had feared, but at least the cave was still intact. Sam stumbled inside, setting Kira down before collapsing against the wall. The exhaustion hit him like a wave, his whole body finally surrendering to the weariness.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he stared up at the cave ceiling, a sense of quiet desperation settling over him. No deer. No real food. He couldn't afford to keep living off berries. But for tonight, they were safe, and that was all he could hold onto. Tomorrow would be another battle for survival, another hunt, another attempt.
He looked at Kira, who had curled up beside him, already drifting off to sleep. Sam smiled weakly, then closed his eyes, letting the darkness of sleep pull him in too.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.