The moon glowed silver in Antun’s backyard. It had stopped raining hours ago, the grass still damp. Wind whispered quietly through the trees, whistling and rustling. The stars above were bright despite the light pollution from the city, twinkling. Barely a crescent, the moon was glowing bright. The roar of the city was a mere hum from where they were. The woods bordering his property were quietly humming with life – the tittering and skittering of little creatures, animals calling, and heartbeats. So many heartbeats.
But all that life reminded me of the death that lit up my phone last night. “Bloodless corpse near Lake Union – no trauma, no signs of struggle,” the article had said. No trauma… Vampire bites don’t leave marks behind, they always seal up… There’s got to be another explanation, blood from his orifices or something. They didn’t say how they found him except for no trauma, he could’ve been covered in his blood… Or maybe “bloodless” just meant no blood at the scene, not exsanguination.
But the thought kept circling around to the same conclusion, one that I did not want to accept. I shook my head, trying to will the thought away like an etch-a-sketch. But just like the toy, a shadow of it continued to hang over me. I put my phone face down on the nightstand so I could get ready. The ghostly taste of iron stuck to the back of my throat as I dressed and did my hair.
I’d just finished my braid and headed outside where the others were waiting. Tonight was the night Antun was going to teach Michael and I about hunting animals for mana. I’d taken his recommendations to heart, wearing the camo that he’d bought for us to wear. He’d “pre-musked” the clothes, so they didn’t smell the best, but they’d hide our scents better – “just to make life that much more easy,” he’d said.
I took a deep breath of the fresh air, scenting damp earth and cedar. The cool air clung to my skin. From the eaves behind me, I could hear a regular, faint drip-drip . Antun didn’t have a fence line; his yard was surrounded by the forest, the property lines going into it. The moonlight glinted off wet vegetation, and a faint mist rose from the grass.
I looked up at that moon, a thin crescent like a sideways smile. Or a bite mark.
No, you are hunting right now. Stay focused. In for four, hold it, out for four. Just breathe, Drew.
But that bite in the sky – and the light it shone down – reminded me that nothing stays in the dark forever. Eventually, everything comes to light. There was nothing I could do about it now; I needed to concentrate on the stuff Antun was saying before we went in.
The four of us – me, Michael, Antun, and Syla – gathered at the forest’s edge. “We won’t want to talk much once we’re in the woods. It’d give us away and scare dinner.” He smiled wryly. “That said, I’m going to be teaching you guys as we go, but we’ll keep our voices down.” Pointing at the ground, he asked, “What do you see?”
Confused, Michael and I answered the typical – dirt, grass. The soft hum of nocturnal insects filled our awkward silence. Syla finally spoke up, “That’s a print.”
“Bingo,” Antun finger-gunned at Syla. He motioned for us to come closer. “Do you see the indentation here? The almost-heart shape of it says that a deer passed through. Feel the indentation with your fingers, it’ll help you to see it better if you know what it feels like.”
Carefully, I reached out a hand. I brushed my fingers lightly over the spot, feeling what Antun had described. The ground was slightly muddy, but there were enough gravel and debris to keep it from sticking to my skin. Feeling it did make it easier to see, and I noticed the heart shape he was talking about.
“You don’t need to know every print, but knowing some can be helpful, especially those of other predators. We’re at the top of the food chain, but some cougars or black bears might not think so. And tangling with those guys just to prove a point hurts, trust me.”
I gave him a questioning look, but he just gave a smile that said, story for another time.
“Dry edges mean hours ago; damp center means we’re close. These edges are quite dry so it’s obvious that this is an old print, the animal long gone.” He talked about terrain awareness – how to read broken twigs, flattened grass, and even scat for freshness. “The warmer the turd, the closer they are.”
“Now, how we move.” He crouched low, shifting his weight slowly so leaves wouldn’t crunch. “Rolling your steps heel-to-toe is the best way to avoid stepping on something you shouldn’t.” He had us practice low, stealthy steps for a minute or so before he deemed us “good enough for tonight.” “Choose your route before you move, mark where it’s safest to step before you even lift your foot,” he said.
Syla spoke up, “I do have a question, about what you said about predators before. Do they pose a real threat to us if we’re faced with one?”
Pragmatically, Antun said, “They can’t kill us easily, but they can maul you bad enough to ruin your day still.”
I shivered. That almost seemed worse, to recover from an attack like that because you couldn’t die, even if the wounds would’ve killed others.
“A black bear nearly got me once. If it weren’t for flying I would’ve been in a very bad way. He’d chased me up a tree, but the damned thing could climb. So I let it get as close as it could, as high as it could, before I floated away. His paw swiped toward me, angry that I’d gotten away. Once he was out of sight, I landed and went about my hunt.”
He stood. “The important thing is to not drink too much. Take only enough mana to sustain you and release them gently when you’re done. If you drink too much mana, you’ll kill them, and you’ll end up with quickly expiring mana and a whole lot of guilt. Let them go, let them wake, frightened but alive. It balances the ledger. If they survive us, we deserve to survive ourselves.”
As uneasy as I was about this new experience, I was grateful that Antun was teaching us how to feed with restraint. Beside me, Michael was visibly attentive, trying to memorize everything. To Syla, this seemed to be more of a refresher, something she hadn’t thought about in a very long time.
His words focused me on the task at hand, calming my mind by giving it something else specific to think about. The shift from open edge to dense undergrowth made it feel like I was entering another world. Our muted steps took us deeper into the forest, soil lightly crunching beneath my boots where rain had not touched.
Antun paused our group, lifting a hand silently and motioning for us to group together a moment. “I forgot to say earlier, but always try to stay downwind. We’ve got musk on right now but our scents could still leak through. Even deer would be able to scent the cold iron in us.”
We nodded and went back to silently walking deeper into the woods. My eyes adjusted easily to the dark and I vaguely wondered if that was a vampire thing or just my eyes adjusting like a normal person’s would. I heard heartbeats all around me, thudding quickly in tiny bodies. The bigger the critter, the slower the heartbeat – a squirrel’s heartbeat was faster than a raccoon’s, which was faster than a deer’s.
Antun halted us once more, indicating for us to crouch lower. “Syla’s going to take this first one. It’s been a hundred years since you last got to do this, it’s only fair you get to go first.”
Syla smiled. “Thank you.” Those two words, as quiet as they were, held years’ worth of excitement. We watched her as she broke apart a little way from our group.
Under his breath, Antun whispered, “Sometimes, it’s easier to learn by demonstration. Watch how she handles the animal. Listen to the heartbeat as it slows down to a drowsy rate before she pulls away.” He scanned the area again with that predatory stillness of his. His professional focus held no wasted movement.
Breathing in rhythm to the heartbeats around us, we waited, and waited… An owl hooted. Moonlight filtered through the branches, shining in silvery patches on the forest floor. Slivers of light glinted off Antun’s pale skin, making him luminous. Michael caught my eye, giving me a nervous smile as the waiting lingered on. My knees were beginning to complain from the crouched position we’d held for so long.
My brain wandered. Can animals sense vampires? What is it like? How can they tell the difference? Do they hear our silent hearts back? A flicker of self-doubt began creeping in. Will I even know when to strike? Or will I freeze like I used to with Nikola?
No, Drew. Take a breath. Just imagine this is one of those stupid team-building exercises at work. I smiled at the thought, feeling the tiniest bit better.
I wondered if Antun was mistaken until I heard a rustling. I looked and saw a rabbit jump into the clearing. A bunny? Its ears swiveled, nose twitching, oblivious to the danger nearby. I looked at the tiny creature. That little thing couldn’t possibly have enough mana by itself for Syla…
Before I could think further, a bobcat pounced, roaring as it soared out of the bushes. The animal’s lean muscles coiled as it jumped in a blur of motion. At the same time, Syla leapt. The timing was almost exact. Her motions were fluid, calm.
How the hell did she know there was a bobcat? I didn’t even know about the rabbit until it jumped in front of us. Man, I need to work on paying attention to my surroundings, that is terrifying.
She tackled the bobcat to the ground, the rabbit scurrying off into the brush. Dirt scattered as bodies thudded to the ground. Snarling, hissing, spitting. The big cat growled but Syla had it pinned as she bit. Its paw nearly swiped Syla’s arm but she dipped her shoulder, claws missing by centimeters. Soon, the struggling beast’s motions began to lessen, until it was unconscious. Syla drank only a heartbeat longer, leaving the animal alive.
Kneeling over the animal, Syla panted, eyes closed. She whispered to the animal, “Thank you. Sorry for interrupting your meal. Sleep well.” She stood, walking over to us with a wide grin, joy radiating from her in quiet waves.
“Well done!” Antun quietly praised. “He put up a fight, are you alright?”
“Not a scratch,” she assured us, still catching her breath.
I looked around at the forest, still again, peaceful. For the first time in a century, Syla was free in her own body. The smile she gave could have warmed any frozen heart for the active joy in it. Envy, admiration, and hope tangled together in my chest. For the first time, I saw what peace might look like for us, for me.
“Come on, we’ll need to move away from here for you two to have any chances,” Antun said, waving his hand to follow him. We did, going deeper into the forest.
It was probably my imagination, but I thought the forest had grown quieter since Syla’s success – night sounds returned cautiously, as if the woods were holding their breath. We snuck through carpets of moss and pine needles. Every heartbeat overlapped, and trying to separate them was like untangling thread.
Before too long, Antun held up his hand again. He put a hand on Michael’s shoulder as he spoke to him. “Listen for the larger heartbeat. Focus on it, match your breathing to it. When you hear the heartbeat speed up, the animal is moving. Let your instincts guide you and you’ll do great.” He squeezed his shoulder once more with an encouraging smile. “Don’t think about the hunger. Think about the rhythm. You’re borrowing life, not taking it.”
Antun looked at Michael with the quiet pride of a teacher who’d done this countless times. Even with his age though, he still remembered what it meant to learn control. I looked at the two of them, both vampires but completely different. Antun had centuries of experience, whereas Michael had only been turned a couple of years ago. Both predators – one master, one novice.
Michael nodded, doing the same thing as Syla, stepping a little way away from the group. He mirrored Syla’s movements with careful focus, rolling his feet and moving smoothly and quietly. He stopped, crouched beside a tree, and waited. I listened for the larger heartbeat too, part of me a worried that we’d see another bobcat.
I heard it; a little faster than the bobcat’s heart, there was a thudding. It came closer, and I saw it was a racoon. It chittered as it switched between crawling on all fours or walking on its hind legs, beady eyes glinting in the moonlight. It rummaged through the leaves, unaware of what was coming.
Michael breathed in time to the racoon’s heartbeat, and his head tilted as he listened. He went perfectly still, a predator about to jump.
I held my breath, not wanting to interfere, a pulse of nerves zipping through me repeatedly.
Springing from his spot, he tackled the creature as it hissed and scratched at him. It was a blur of motion. The animal’s claws snagged on his sleeve as it chittered and hissed in his face. Michael grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, pinning its body to the ground and drank from the animal’s artery. The faint scent of iron mixed with wet soil as I heard Michael pull and pull through his teeth.
I’d wanted to flinch instinctively. Then fascination hit as I watched the rhythm of feeding, the calm precision in him despite the chaos.
The racoon thrashed less and less until Michael sat up, letting the critter go gently. It stumbled on its hind legs like a little drunkard, wobbling into the brush as fast as it could. It chittered confusedly as it made its way away from its attacker.
Michael turned to us, his eyes bright with relief and pride. “Got it!” he whispered in triumph. He stood, shoulders rising and falling as he regained his breath and recentered. He came back to our group to much congratulating.
“Clean. You stopped when you should. That’s all that matters,” Antun approved with a nod.
Syla wore a small grin and muttered, teasing, “Not bad, rookie.”
Pride, relief, affection – all of it washed through me. I stood on my tip toes, wanting to ground him after such intensity. I kissed him – soft, human, a punctuation to the hunt – quiet proof that he was still himself. He seemed so steady after, an elevated calm as he smiled down at me. Was it ironic that we were celebrating drinking blood? Perhaps, but strange seemed to be my lot in life, so I went with it.
“Alright, Drew. You’re up,” Antun said, an encouraging gleam in his eye.
I took several steadying breaths as I followed Antun’s lead through the woods. I tried to pick out a heartbeat to breath along with, but there were too many. It’s okay, Drew. Just count your breaths instead. In for four – you know the drill – out for four. Our footprints left shallow imprints in the soft earth. Frogs croaked distantly.
We stopped behind a cluster of trees. “You’ve seen it done twice. Now you have a chance to try it. You don’t have to go for big game, either. Rabbits and other smaller creatures are just fine,” Antun whispered.
Michael offered a reassuring look. “You’ve got this,” he murmured. His words crackled like static between us. Syla gave me a thumbs up as I carefully walked out from behind the trees to a spot I had already determined just ahead.
Okay, Drew. Find the biggest heartbeat. I closed my eyes, trying to sort through the various heartbeats. Mice and voles, porcupines and coyotes – all the animal life was too loud when trying to focus on one heartbeat.
A rabbit darted out on soft paws, but I moved too carefully – too self-conscious – telegraphing every shift. It hopped away, whether because I was too slow or because it saw me I wasn’t sure. My analytical habits didn’t seem to translate well into instinct. Another rabbit came out and I thought I’d have a chance when it immediately kept on going instead of stopping, dirt spraying out behind its swift feet. My jaw tightened, hunger stirring faintly at the loss, reminding me what was at stake, what we were practicing for – survival, not pride.
I couldn’t logic my way into predation. The sting of inexperience brought me frustration. My mouth felt dry, my shoulders tense. Shame flushed my face and I was grateful to be mostly hidden in shadow. In that frustration, my mind wandered back to what I’d been preoccupied with the entire rest of the day – the corpse. It was bloodless, sterile; nothing like this breathing, messy world.
A throat cleared behind me, breaking me out of that ring of thinking. Antun’s kind eyes met mine, equally teacherly and compassionate. Voice low, he said, “It’s rhythm, Love. You’ll find it. Your heart is still now. Let the heartbeat of the animal you’re hunting become your new heartbeat, your inner rhythm. Instinct is your friend – stop trying to squash it with that brain of yours. You and I both know you were overthinking.”
I nodded, trying to shake off the rest of my embarrassment. Antun was one of my best friends, practically family. If I couldn’t be embarrassed in front of him, what could I do?
Breathe, you can breathe. Notice the feeling of the humidity on your skin. Ground yourself. I fisted my fingers tight, muscles flexing, and let go, a tingling sensation helping keep me here. Humidity had made stray hairs around my face curl slightly and want to stick to my skin. I listened again, this time with the intent to only listen. The wind rustling branches. Chirping, chittering bugs. Heartbeats. Grounding felt a lot like editing chaos into order, the way I used to edit sentences into sense.
“Yeah. It’s just a lot different from hunting in the city, the entire process feels foreign,” I replied.
“Let go of your thinking and let your body take control to catch the animal. After you’ve got your fangs in them, then you can let your brain take over again.” Antun poked my head and I swatted his hand away, earning a smile.
“Come on, we’re not done ‘til everyone’s gotten mana.” He began to walk again, and our group followed behind, keeping our senses open and paying attention to Antun’s lead. Moonlight filtered through the branches. I began to recognize that the forest itself had a pulse, made up of the cacophony of sound all coming together in a rhythm. This hunt was far from over.
