Chapter 5

Citlali's POV

The gnawing in my stomach had become a constant companion by the time our last few scrawny animals were gone. It wasn't the sharp, urgent hunger of missing one meal—it was the deep, hollow ache that came from weeks of never quite getting enough, the kind that made my head swim when I stood up too fast and turned my thoughts sluggish and mean.

Stealing from our nearly empty stores was impossible now. Father had taken to checking the grain sacks every morning and night, running his hands over the dried meat hanging from the rafters to make sure none had gone missing, counting the wrinkled potatoes in their basket like a miser counting coins.

The one time I'd tried to sneak a heel of bread, he'd caught me with it halfway to my mouth. The beating that followed had left me unable to walk properly for three days, my ribs screaming with every breath, and I'd learned my lesson.

So I found myself wandering the edges of the village one afternoon, driven by desperation and the slim, pathetic hope of finding something—anything—to eat. Maybe some wild berries the birds hadn't gotten to yet. Maybe a bird's nest with eggs. Maybe a miracle.

That's when I saw the rabbit.

It was just sitting there in a patch of golden sunlight that filtered through the trees, its gray-brown fur almost glowing, nose twitching as it nibbled at something in the grass. It was small, probably young, but it was meat. Real, actual meat.

My mouth flooded with saliva so suddenly I almost choked on it, my stomach clenching so hard it hurt, and for a moment I couldn't breathe for wanting it.

I dropped into a crouch without thinking, every muscle in my body suddenly focused on that one small creature with an intensity that startled me. My heart began to pound, not with fear but with something else—something eager and fierce that I didn't recognize.

The world seemed to sharpen around me, the colors becoming more vivid, the sounds clearer. I could hear the rabbit's tiny teeth working at the grass, could smell the earth and leaves and something else, something warm and alive that made my pulse quicken.

Move slowly, some instinct whispered. Don't let it see you. Stay low.

I began to creep forward, placing each foot with exaggerated care, keeping my body close to the ground. The tall grass provided cover, and I used it, moving through it like water, my breathing shallow and controlled.

The rabbit's ears swiveled toward me—those huge, sensitive ears that could probably hear my heartbeat—and I froze, every muscle locked, barely daring to breathe.

It went back to eating.

I crept closer. Five feet. Four. Three. Close enough now that I could see the delicate whiskers around its nose, the dark shine of its eyes.

My muscles coiled tight, ready to spring, my fingers curling into claws against the ground. Just a little closer, just a little—

The rabbit's head snapped up, eyes wide and alert, and then it bolted.

I lunged after it without thinking, my body moving on pure instinct, but my first attempt at a pounce fell short, my fingers closing on empty air as it zigzagged through the tall grass with the maddening speed of prey that knows it's being hunted.

But I didn't stop.

I found myself dropping lower and lower as I ran, my center of gravity shifting until I was practically running on all fours, my hands hitting the ground in rhythm with my feet, propelling me forward with a speed and power that shocked me.

It should have felt awkward, wrong, but instead it felt right in a way I couldn't explain. Natural. Like this was how I was always meant to move.

The rabbit darted left and I followed without thinking, my body responding before my mind could catch up, anticipating its movements like I could read its mind.

Almost there. Almost. Just a little more—

The rabbit's white tail flashed as it darted through a gap in the bushes, and I burst through after it without slowing, branches whipping at my face and arms, my breath coming in sharp pants, every nerve singing with an exhilaration I'd never felt before.

I was close, so close I could almost taste it, my fingers nearly brushing its fur as it—

I crashed directly into something solid and went sprawling.

For a moment I couldn't process what had happened. One second I'd been flying through the air, victory almost in my grasp, and the next I was tumbling across the ground in a tangle of limbs, the breath knocked out of my lungs, dirt and grass filling my mouth.

I came to a stop on my back, staring up at the sky, stunned and winded and completely disoriented.

Then faces appeared above me, blocking out the sun, and my stomach dropped.

I recognized them immediately. The lord's daughter, Elara, with her golden ringlets and the kind of pretty, delicate features that made adults coo over her. The steward's son, Thomas, tall for his age and already carrying himself with his father's self-important swagger.

The merchant's twins, Mara and Maekar, always dressed in matching outfits. And two others whose names I didn't know but whose expensive clothes and well-fed faces told me everything I needed to know about where they belonged in the village hierarchy.

They were staring at me like I'd sprouted a second head.

"What—" Elara started, her blue eyes wide with shock. "What was that?"