"Freaking damn protruding roots!" Mae hissed, practically growling as she tried to yank her foot free. "Stop pulling me back, you thorny little demon! Let this girl live!"
She staggered again, catching herself just in time before landing face-first—again. Huffing, she bent down and began gathering her limbs and dignity from the dirt. Her ankle throbbed from where it had twisted, thanks to a hidden root ambush, and even with her fancy night-vision uniglass, she still managed to trip like it was her superpower.
Rubbing her ankle with a wince, she muttered under her breath, "If Lora can't hear me, has she been abducted by bandits or something?"
The thought made her pause.
"I did hear the men say something about bandits earlier, right? Or maybe that was in my head…?"
She glanced around the dim forest, the trees warped slightly in the blue-green tint of the uniglass. The shadows danced, unfamiliar and eerie.
"What kind of bandits would even be out here?" she asked herself, then chuckled quietly, trying to calm her nerves. "Like the ones in movies? Dirty, scary, ferocious? Pfft."
She let out a sarcastic laugh. "I bet they're not even half as terrifying as Damien."
The second she said his name, she froze.
"Oh no. Gosh, I remembered him during a bad moment. That's gotta be a curse."
She shook her head like a wet dog and slapped her own cheeks lightly. "No, no—forget him. Forget about that tyrant! Don't summon him like a demon, Mae!"
She groaned, dragging her hand down her face. "Great. If I get kidnapped again, it'll be Damien's fault–" Just then, a faint crunch echoed behind her—like someone stepping on dry bark. Mae froze.
Hair prickled on the back of her neck. Slowly, carefully, she turned her head. Her breath hitched.
A massive figure stood just ahead, half-hidden in the dark, bow drawn tight—an arrow aimed straight at her.
"BANDITTT!"
Her scream tore through the trees.
Steven blinked in surprise. No normal person should've spotted him so easily—not at night. But this one? She was not only screaming but already bolting through the underbrush in blind panic.
"Hey! I'm not a—"
"Someone help! There's a bandit after me! HELP!" Mae wailed, crashing through ferns and twigs, only to immediately trip over the same cursed root she'd stumbled on earlier.
"Damned roots again!" she gasped, flailing.
Steven caught up just as she tumbled, but before he could say anything, his instincts kicked in. The faintest rustle. The softest shuffle of boots on moss.
Sword steel whispered from its sheath somewhere in the dark.
"Bloody rats …" Steven hissed under his breath, one arm snapping out to pull Mae closer.
"What?! What now, Mr. Bandit?" Mae said, her grip tightening on his arm. She followed his line of sight—and her jaw dropped.
Figures. Shadows. At least six, maybe more, surrounding them in a loose circle. Swords drawn.
"You brought a whole damn gang to kill me?!" she hissed. "Gosh they are all over the place."
"I didn't bring anyone. And I'm not one of them," Steven muttered, for the first time speaking more than three words at once.
"Oh. Well… of course I can see them. I've got my—never mind." She stopped herself. Explaining her futuristic magic monocle could wait. Steven felt like he could live, he spoke.
"Help me aim," Steven said quickly.
"What?"
"You see them. I'll shoot. Just point."
Adrenaline pumped through Mae's veins. "There! That tree! Two meters up!" she shouted, pointing with a trembling finger.
Steven released the arrow. It soared—and thunked into a hidden bandit's head with deadly precision.
"To your left! Five meters high!"
Another arrow. Another hit.
Mae pressed behind him, trying to stay out of the way but shouting directions as fast as she could see them. At one point, she even tried using Steven as a human shield, crouching behind him with both hands on his belt.
"Stop grabbing me!" he snapped.
"I'm keeping you alive! You're welcome!"
But then her nerves betrayed her. In a moment of panic, she shouted the wrong direction.
"No, right, not left! Left—No, wait!!"
Steven turned too late. An arrow grazed his shoulder, cutting through leather and drawing a line of red across his arm. He gritted his teeth and shot down the attacker anyway.
"Damnn it.!" he cursed, glaring sideways.
"Sorry! I'm new to... war!" Mae yelped.
Suddenly, it wasn't arrows anymore. The forest exploded with movement—bandits charging in.
Steven dropped his bow, drew twin daggers, and dove in. He moved like a blur—fast, calculated, efficient. Blade to gut, elbow to jaw, foot to kneecap. Even with his injured arm, he fought like a storm.
Mae, meanwhile, ducked behind a bush.
"One of them's big!" she shouted. "Wearing chainmail! Hit his side—no, his left side—it's weak!"
Steven nodded mid-fight, adjusted his footwork, and slammed the hilt of his dagger into the man's ribs. The bandit groaned and dropped.
Mae peeked out from her bush, feeling oddly triumphant.
"Yes! We're winning!"
Then something yanked her hair hard.
A scream tore out of her throat as she was dragged backward. Cold steel pressed to her neck.
Steven turned sharply, confused. Mae couldn't speak—her breath locked in her chest. Instead, the man behind her growled.
"Drop your weapon, or I slit her throat."
Steven froze. His fists clenched. He lowered one blade—reluctantly.
Mae tried to speak, to kick, but the grip was too tight.
Suddenly—thwip.
A sharp whistle, a blur of silver—
The man behind her let out a gurgled cry as an arrow slammed into his temple. His grip fell limp. Mae stumbled away from the falling body.
She looked up in shock.
"LORA!"
Lora stepped out from the shadows, a sling shot still in hand.
"Miss? What ae you doing here?," she said, breathless.
Mae threw herself at her, hugging her tight, tears brimming. "Looking for you!" she said still shaking formt he fright she had just received, and slowly hugging Lora.
"You came into the woods for me?" The sentence filled with immense disbelief.
"That is not important. You saved me! You actually saved me!"
But then Steven stumbled into view, blood trailing down his arm and shoulder. Mae pulled back from Lora, noticing his condition for the first time.
"Wait—you're bleeding! Badly!"
"I've had worse," Steven muttered, but his legs swayed.
"Lora, What do we do?" She didn't want to leave him like that.
"We have a few herbs. And clean wraps back at the camp."
Mae nodded, looping her arm beneath Steven's, his weight pressing into her side. "Don't worry. We'll patch you up."
But before they could take more than a few steps, Steven's voice—low and firm—cut through the quiet.
"Wait. My hunt. I have to take it back to my master."
Mae blinked. "Seriously? You've got an arrow in your arm and you're worried about your hunt?"
Steven didn't answer right away, just clenched his jaw stubbornly and looked off into the trees, as if that explained everything.
Mae sighed, exasperated. "Fine. I guess you're one of those noble 'die for honor and dinner' types."
Before the argument could escalate, Lora stepped forward. "I'll go," she said quickly.
Lora vanished into the trees, Mae tightened her grip around Steven's waist, helping him hobble forward. The silence that followed should've been peaceful, but Mae's mind was far from calm.
She glanced up at him from the side. The warm night breeze caught the sweat-damp strands of his hair, pushing them back from a face that really belonged on a wanted poster—but the kind pinned up by hearts, not bounty hunters. That jawline was carved. His profile could've been a royal coin. And that little streak of blood down his temple? Okay, kind of hot.
Mae swallowed hard.
Don't ogle the injured man. That's weird. That's… that's probably weird.
But she couldn't stop herself. She lifted the uniglass again, holding it to her eye under the pretense of watching for more danger—but mostly, she just wanted a better look. Through the night-vision, his features sharpened. The scars on his arms, the slope of his nose, the ridiculously long lashes. Was he seriously blinking like that in slow motion or was she just losing it?
Steven's voice broke the silence, dry and suspicious.
"…Are you glaring at me?"
Mae's heart shot up her throat. She yanked the uniglass away, nearly dropping it in her panic.
"No! I—what? Glaring? No. Not at all. That's ridiculous."
He turned his head slightly, peering at her through the dim. "It felt like glaring."
"It was... observing. Different. Totally different."
She looked straight ahead cheeks burning, and muttered under her breath.