Chapter 63 – Golden Hour

  By the time the sun dipped low on the horizon, Ezra and Marcel had been walking for hours. The forest behind them had thinned into wide, undulating fields, where the grass grew thick and lush, brushed gold by the descending light. There was no path leading the way by this time, all they had to find their way around was a rough map and a compass.

  Ezra paused at the crest of a hill, drawing in a long breath.

  The scent of pollen was thick in the air, sweet and hazy, clinging to the inside of his nose like powdered sugar. Beneath it, the earth gave off a subtler, deeper note: damp soil warmed by a day’s worth of sun, cut now with the faint bite of approaching cold. Somewhere nearby, crushed wildflowers released a bitter, medicinal perfume.

  He closed his eyes and let the breeze roll over him. The sun was still warm on his face, but the wind that tugged at his collar told a different story. It bit with the promise of night, sharp and cool, threading beneath his cloak like ghost-fingers. He wrapped his arms tighter across his chest.

  “Getting a bit chilly now, isn’t it?” Marcel said, his voice quiet but not strained. He’d stopped beside Ezra, panting lightly, though he was doing a good job pretending he wasn’t tired.

  Ezra didn’t answer right away. He watched the golden disk of the sun lower past the distant tree line, the last light of day stretching long shadows over the hills like dark fingers reaching east.

  The sky overhead had turned a darker blue than usual, and the sky around the sun had been diffusing over time to form layers of pink and purple, fitting in, scattered down to the horizon.

  “Fuuuuuck this is tiring.”

  “Please do remind me,” Marcel said, his tone lighter now, “whose idea was it to walk the whole way? I seem to have forgotten.”

  Ezra gave a quick laugh, lips twitching. “Yea, yea. I get it. But we really don’t have the money to spare. I have no clue how they expect us to do all this work without pay, normally the pay can cover the costs.”

  Marcel sighed in agreement. “Yea, it’s such bull. They’ve gotta at least reimburse us, right?”

  “They might, but either way I won’t be able to get anything for the bait since... you know.”

  “Your little sketchy bartender.” Marcel said with a laugh.

  Ezra chuckled, his voice low. “Five whole silvers, never getting that back.”

  They resumed walking, their boots crunching over dry leaves and the occasional crackle of old grass stalks. A soft hum came from somewhere nearby, an evening chorus of insects beginning their songs. In the field ahead, low to the ground, a group of broad-leafed plants rustled gently in the wind.

  A solitary post stood at the edge of the slope, wrapped in weathered wire. It marked the end of a field boundary, but it looked more like it was standing vigil. Marcel tapped it lightly with the back of his hand as he passed.

  “So, what are the chances this ‘Shadowmane territory’ hasn’t expanded in the last three months?”

  Ezra glanced toward the line of woods on the horizon. “I’d say they’re pretty good. The loggers say there aren’t any new sightings, so hopefully that means it’s staying near the site. If we’re lucky, there’ll only be one, and it can be over in a day.”

  Marcel grunted. “Always the ifs with you.”

  Ezra shrugged. “Planning for the worst means you’re not surprised when it shows up.”

  “Right,” Marcel said with a dry laugh. “And here I was thinking you were finally learning to enjoy yourself. You gotta stop worrying about every little thing. We still got our trump card, don’t we?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Yea. Still, it’s not like I’m not enjoying myself,” Ezra said, then added with a smirk, “I’m just not letting myself fall to your levels of stupidity. No point pretending, this is a dangerous job.”

  They continued along the edge of the field, their shadows stretched long behind them. The golden light was fading fast now, dipping behind the forest as the first hints of dusk settled over the world. A low mist was beginning to gather in the dips between hills, a thin silver layer that curled and crept like it had a mind of its own.

  Marcel pulled his cloak tighter. “Feels like it’s going to be a cold night.”

  Ezra nodded. “We’ll camp soon. The ridge shouldn’t be too far ahead. We’ll camp there.”

  “You think of everything, don’t you?” Marcel asked, but the jab was half-hearted.

  “Wha- The ridge was your idea! Don’t try to pretend you’re so lax about it all. Being able to be serious when necessary is a virtue, one which some don’t share.” Ezra said.

  “I know. I just think it’s funny seeing you get annoyed.”

  Marcel raised his chin smugly. “Damn right. And not just dry rations either. I brought some biltong as a bit of a treat.”

  “Can’t wait,” Ezra said, voice dry.

  They walked a little longer, the sound of their footsteps the only thing breaking the growing quiet. The hum of insects had risen, joined now by a distant owl call and the rustle of leaves in the oncoming breeze.

  The path narrowed as they descended into the woods, the golden glow of the late evening sun slanting through the thinning canopy. Long shadows stretched across the ground, the warmth of the day lingering on Ezra’s back even as the air ahead cooled with a creeping chill. It was that strange, in-between time, where light still touched the earth, but the promise of night settled in the bones.

  Each breath drew in the scent of the forest, earthy and sweet. The loamy soil was mixed with the faintest traces of wildflowers and moss. The freshly bloomed flowers reminded him that spring had only just begun.

  Their boots crunched softly over fallen twigs and dry leaves. Ezra glanced back at Marcel, who was walking in half-steps to avoid stepping too loudly. A rare moment of quiet from him.

  Ezra’s eyes caught something ahead, a flicker of movement, a subtle twitch of ears rising above the grass in a small clearing just beyond the tree line.

  He instinctively raised his hand and crouched. Marcel mirrored him immediately.

  “Something ahead,” Ezra whispered.

  The two crept forwards through the ferns, keeping low. Ezra pushed aside a curtain of branches, careful not to disturb them too much. As he peered through, the world opened into a wide clearing bathed in warm light.

  A herd of deer stood in the open.

  There were about twenty. One albino, two fawns.

  They were graceful and impossibly still, like a painting come to life. Their coats shimmered a rich copper in the dying light, each movement sending ripples across their flanks. The air held a hush, like even the forest paused to admire them.

  Ezra’s eyes caught on a large buck at the rear of the group. Its antlers were wide, thick with velvet, and its eyes held a watchful, alert gleam. It raised its nose to the wind, ears swivelling with a twitch. Ezra felt the air shift on his cheek. The warmth was fading fast, replaced by the prickle of cold evening air. He wondered, in a distant part of his mind, if that one shift had given them away.

  And then the buck moved.

  Not much. Just a flick of muscle, a tightening of stance. But it was enough.

  The rest of the herd moved as one, their bodies springing into motion with a flurry of sound. Hooves struck earth with muffled thuds, leaves scattered, branches bent and snapped. The deer bolted through the clearing in elegant, effortless arcs, leaping over gnarled roots and sliding between trunks with natural precision.

  Ezra didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until they vanished into the deeper woods.

  “Woah,” Marcel breathed beside him. “That was, god they’re beautiful.”

  Ezra nodded. “I’ve never seen a herd that close before.”

  “Did you see the one with the massive rack?” Marcel grinned. “Those antlers could knock a man out cold.”

  Ezra smirked slightly, trying not to laugh. His eyes lingered on the place where the deer had disappeared, the trees still rustling faintly in their wake.

  The forest felt different now.

  He hadn’t noticed before, but now the stillness had weight to it. As if something unseen had stirred in the deeper dark. Birds rustled and fell quiet. A breeze crept through the leaves, carrying with it the damp smell of bark and the faint mineral tang of hidden water.

  “We spooked them,” Marcel said, rising and brushing the dirt off his trousers.

  “We need to be more careful. If the deer noticed, who's to say that the Shadowmane won’t do the same. If we’re caught off-guard by it, we’re as good as dead.”

  “They stepped out of the clearing and back into the woods, their pace quickening slightly. The last threads of daylight stretched between the branches, already thinning. Birds called distantly to each other overhead, but even that sound was beginning to fade.

  “Camp before dark?” Marcel asked.

  Ezra nodded. “Preferably before something else moves into our spot.”

  They shared a quiet laugh, the tension lightening just a little. But as they walked deeper into the forest, the memory of those fleeing deer remained with them, like a warning whispered by the dusk.

  The last of the sun vanished.

  They didn’t need to speak. The moment said enough.

  Ezra lifted his gaze to the sky, now dusted with stars. It was time to set up camp.