Chapter 14: Measured Distance

  Several days later, Lily set out along the same gathering route again.

  The work itself had become routine. Moss pulled the cart steadily along the uneven forest trail while Lily walked ahead, cutting vine and checking the soil beneath shaded roots where Bitterroot liked to grow. Bundles of Blackstem Sage already hung from one side of the cart, their sharp scent lingering in the cool air.

  The deeper edge of the forest always yielded better harvests.

  Fewer animals wandered this close to the Karnyxen’s territory, and the herbs grew thick and undisturbed. Bitterroot roots pushed deeper through the damp soil here, and clusters of Ghostleaf spread quietly beneath fallen trunks where grazing mouths rarely reached.

  It made the work easier.

  It also meant working where most gatherers preferred not to.

  By the time the baskets were half full and the afternoon light had begun to soften, the familiar creek came into view.

  Lily crossed it without stopping.

  Cold water splashed around Moss’s hooves as the Stonehorn followed her over the stones.

  Beyond the creek, the forest grew quieter.

  The trunks widened. Moss and fallen needles softened the ground beneath her feet.

  Soon the clearing appeared between two narrow trees.

  Lily slowed slightly.

  Then she stepped inside.

  Empty.

  She waited for a moment, scanning the darker tree line.

  Nothing moved.

  After a few breaths she exhaled quietly.

  “I guess you really didn’t understand me.”

  She told herself it was curiosity. But part of her simply wanted to see him again.

  Moss lowered its head beside the cart and began tearing at a patch of grass.

  Lily shrugged and began working the clearing’s edge, loosening the damp soil where Bitterroot sometimes hid beneath older roots. Near a fallen cedar she found another patch of Ghostleaf and carefully cut the thin stems free.

  The forest remained quiet.

  When the baskets were full enough to meet her quota, Lily hitched the cart and turned Moss back toward the creek.

  The clearing stayed silent behind her.

  She crossed the water and began the slow walk back toward the village.

  Several minutes after she disappeared among the trees, another shape entered the clearing.

  He stepped from the forest, head raised as he tested the air. His nose lifted once, drawing in the fading scent drifting through the clearing.

  Human.

  Stonehorn.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  And faint beneath both—

  cooked meat.

  The scent had already begun to thin in the afternoon breeze.

  He stood there a moment longer, dark eyes scanning the empty ground.

  Then he turned and slipped back into the forest.

  Five days later, Lily followed the same gathering route again.

  The morning passed quietly as she worked the outer belt, cutting vine and filling the baskets with Bitterroot and Ghostleaf wherever she found them. Gathering was slow work. Every few steps meant checking the ground, loosening soil, tying bundles, or guiding Moss through thicker brush.

  By the time she crossed the creek again, the baskets were already half full.

  The clearing appeared ahead.

  Moss snorted sharply.

  Lily looked up.

  A shape moved between the trunks.

  The Karnyxen stepped into view.

  He approached from the side of the clearing, downwind of her position. Thick fur shifted along his shoulders as he walked, his long body moving with quiet confidence through the undergrowth.

  He stopped several paces away.

  His dark eyes settled on Lily first.

  Then they moved to the basket hanging from the side of Moss’s cart.

  His tail flicked once.

  Lily blinked.

  “Oh,” she said. “You smelled it.”

  The Karnyxen remained still, watching her.

  After a moment Lily crouched beside the cart and lifted the cloth covering the small food bundle she had brought.

  “Well… I suppose that answers that.”

  She pulled out a strip of cooked hare.

  Last time she had placed the meat halfway across the clearing.

  This time she set it only a few steps in front of herself.

  Then she stepped back.

  The Karnyxen approached in a straight line.

  When he reached the meat, he paused briefly and inhaled. His dark eyes lifted to hers for a moment, measuring her stillness.

  Then his jaws snapped shut around the strip.

  He flicked his head upward, tossing the meat into the air and swallowing it before it fell.

  Afterward he stepped back.

  Not far.

  Lily noticed.

  “You really do like it,” she said softly.

  The Karnyxen’s gaze shifted toward the cart again.

  His nose lifted slightly, testing the scent.

  Lily sighed.

  “Alright.”

  She crouched again and pulled out another strip.

  “This is the last one.”

  She placed it on the ground.

  “You’re not the only one who needs to eat.”

  The Karnyxen approached again.

  This time he hesitated only briefly before taking the second piece. His dark eyes lingered on her a moment longer before he swallowed.

  Then his gaze returned to the basket.

  Lily raised both hands.

  “Sorry. That’s it.”

  She nudged the basket with her foot.

  “I need the rest.”

  For a moment she wondered if he might simply step forward and take it anyway.

  He could.

  Instead he shifted his weight and stepped back again.

  Only a few paces.

  Lily let out a quiet breath.

  “Thank you.”

  Moss lifted his head at the sound of her voice, glancing toward her briefly before returning to the grass.

  The Karnyxen continued watching her.

  So Lily kept talking.

  “You know, Moss eats half the herbs I gather if I don’t watch him,” she said.

  Moss flicked an ear at the sound of his name.

  “And the patrol boys complain if the bundles are small.”

  She brushed dirt from her palms and shook her head.

  “I swear they think the forest grows roots just for them.”

  The Karnyxen remained silent.

  After a moment the clearing grew quiet again.

  Lily crouched slowly.

  Instead of reaching toward him, she extended her hand into the empty air between them.

  Palm open.

  Still.

  Moss shifted uneasily behind her.

  The Karnyxen did not move at first.

  Then he stepped sideways.

  A slow half-circle.

  He approached again with careful steps until his nose hovered inches from her fingers.

  Warm breath brushed her skin.

  Lily held perfectly still.

  The Karnyxen inhaled once.

  His whiskers twitched.

  For a moment it seemed like he might lean forward.

  Instead he stepped back again.

  Lily laughed softly.

  “Fair enough.”

  She stood and brushed the dirt from her knees.

  “I’ll bring more next week.”

  Another gathering run brought her back again.

  This time the Karnyxen appeared before she even reached the clearing.

  A dark shape stepped from the trees as she approached.

  Moss stiffened beneath her.

  Lily slid down from the Stonehorn’s shoulders.

  “Well,” she said lightly, “I guess that means you remember me.”

  She placed the strip of cooked meat on the ground.

  The Karnyxen approached and swallowed it where he stood, only a few paces away.

  The clearing felt smaller with him this close.

  His tail flicked once behind him.

  Lily hesitated.

  Then she stepped forward slowly.

  Her hand rose.

  For a moment she expected him to move away.

  He didn’t.

  Her fingers brushed the fur along the side of his neck.

  Warm.

  Dense.

  The outer fur felt coarse beneath her fingers, but softer underlayers trapped heat close to his skin.

  She held the touch for a breath.

  Then the Karnyxen stepped aside calmly.

  Not anger nor submission. Just distance.

  Lily stared at her hand for a moment before laughing quietly.

  “I can’t believe that worked.”

  When she turned to leave, the Karnyxen climbed onto the broad trunk of a fallen tree and settled there.

  He wasn’t guarding the clearing or stalking her. He was simply watching.

  “I guess I’ll see you here again next week,” Lily said softly.

  The Karnyxen said nothing.

  He simply watched as she crossed the creek and disappeared into the trees.