Raven
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- Oct 23, 2025
Crossing Hollow Country
< Chapter 1: The Hunt.
Even without an alarm clock I woke an hour before sunrise. Whether I wanted to or not, early mornings had always been my habit. Hunting trips, jobs that started before daylight, and long hikes had me used to waking before everyone else.
Packing camp went quickly since most of the work was finished the night before. I broke down the light tent and rolled my bed tight, then lashed both to the bottom of my pack. The venison I left hanging over the fire to smoke was divided into two groups. A smaller pouch hung from my belt for easy access while I walked. The rest I packed deep in the outer pocket I used for travel food.
The longest task was taking down my perimeter alarms. I worked from memory, finding each line of sinew or fishing cord strung between trees and shrubs. Small brass bells dangled from every loop. They had warned me more than once and were too valuable to abandon. Each coil of cord and every bell went into a cloth bag inside my pack.
The first light of dawn washed over the mountains, turning the ridges to pale gold and making the treetops glow. I crouched low behind a scraggly bush halfway down a hillside, bow already strung, waiting.
A morning breeze slid cool across my face, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. My legs had gone stiff from the long crouch, but I ignored the ache. The woods demanded stillness. If you moved too soon, you went hungry.
The game trail stretched out below me, narrow and well-worn, leading toward a pool where the mountain stream gathered before spilling downhill. It was the kind of place deer liked to pass through, especially at this hour. I’d been here since before sunrise, and I could feel it in my bones: something was coming.