Hello Fellow Hunters!
I'm a bit undecided about the release schedule for the chapters, so let me know in the comments which days you'd prefer them to be released!
Also, I'm already 8 chapters ahead on Patreon; if you'd like to read more and support the story, check it out here: 👉 patreon.com/DragonChill
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Late December, Dusk.
On the porch, Elias tests the weight of a new knife; longer and sharper. It's a gift from Daniel still warm from his grip; whittling a stake from a block of oak.
Today, he turns thirteen.
The farm is quiet except for the usual sounds; the wind through the trees, the distant creak of the barn and the crackle of the fire inside. His breath fogs in front of him, his body leaner from months of work. His hands are steadier now.
Behind him, the door swings open.
"If you keep hacking at that, you'll end up with a toothpick," Mara calls. She leans against the doorway, arms crossed. "That your plan? Fight them off with splinters?"
Elias smirks, flipping the knife once before catching it. "Figured I'd make you a fancy hairpin."
"Oh, sure. Always wanted one that could take out a ghoul."
She steps forward and ruffles his hair, then holds up a tray of cornbread, steam rising from the fresh-cut squares. "Get inside, birthday boy. Food's ready."
Daniel follows, lugging a wooden crate filled with ammo cans repurposed as a makeshift table. His coat is dusted with snow, his boots heavy against the porch steps. The bruise from last year is long gone, but a fresh cut on his knuckles says he spent the morning sharpening blades.
"Mara wouldn't let me eat before you got in," he grumbles.
"Damn right," she says, already walking inside. "Thirteen is a big one."
"Bigger than twelve?" Elias asks as he follows her.
Daniel grins. "Hell yeah. Bigger knives and bigger problems."
Inside, warmth fills the house, the hearth burning steady, the scent of roasted venison and baked apples thick in the air. The living room is patched together with what they can manage—the windows are still covered with boards, but old Christmas lights flicker along the walls, salvaged from the attic. A worn couch sits by a table dragged in from the kitchen.
And on the table: a lopsided cake, frosted with a thin smear of honey and lard. Thirteen candles, waiting to be lit.
Mara nudges Elias with her elbow as she sets down the cornbread. "Had to fight Daniel to keep him from eating this first."
Daniel rolls his eyes. "She's lying. I'd've saved you a crumb."
"One whole crumb?" Elias deadpans.
Daniel points at him with his fork. "See? Ungrateful."
They sit, the crate creaking under Daniel's weight, Elias between them, venison carved and passed around on chipped plates. The cornbread crumbles warm in their hands.
Elias eats, the food warm and solid. Daniel strikes a match, lighting the candles one by one.
"Make a wish, kid."
Elias looks at the glow of the flames, then closes his eyes. He makes his wish and blows out the candles. Mara's hand rests on his shoulder for a moment.
"Good one?" she asks.
He nods. "Yeah."
Daniel leans back, stretching. "You now, when I turned thirteen, I got chased by a wendigo for six miles."
Elias raises an eyebrow. "For your birthday?"
"Wasn't the plan, but yeah."
Mara smirks. "Only 'cause you were dumb enough to cut through its territory."
"Hey, I was young. Thought I was fast."
"Were you?" Elias asks.
Daniel grins. "I was fast enough to survive."
Mara shakes her head. "That thing nearly took your leg."
"Still here, ain't I?"
They talk late, long after the food is gone, trading stories of hunts before Elias was born—a ghost in Topeka, a wolf pack gone wrong. The fire burns low.
Daniel pulls a small bundle from his pocket; a leather cord with a carved ward pendant. "I made it this morning." He tosses it to Elias. "It Keeps the bad things away—mostly."
Elias ties it around his neck.
Mara watches, then stands, grabbing a book from the shelf. It's old with edges frayed.
"Your reading is getting sharp," she says, handing it over. "Next step is using it."
Elias takes it, feeling the weight of the worn cover.
The house is quiet except for the wind outside. Snow taps against the boards.
He turns the book over in his hands, feeling the pendant rest against his chest.
Thirteen is different. He is bigger now.
And there's a lot more to do.