The forest was waking when the three young men slipped through it—dew on the grass, thin morning mist curled between the trunks, and the smell of damp earth heavy in the air. Blackwood lands stretched miles in every direction, thick and old, its canopy filtering the rising sun into shifting bars of gold. Cade Blackwood walked in front, long knife strapped to his hip, bow in hand, listening with that unnerving stillness that had always set him apart. Behind him came Henry, broader, louder, sharp-eyed but too quick to breathe through his mouth, and Eli, lean and twitch-fast, two leather leads wrapped around his wrist as he guided the hounds.
Josie and Wolf moved like shadows ahead of them—two big Riverlands hounds, brown-coated, long-legged, bred for tracking but trained with a hunter's edge. Eli's father ran the kennels, but the boys spent more time with the dogs than half the grown men did. Josie nuzzled Cade whenever he knelt to tie his boots; Wolf slept by Henry's feet whenever he drank in the yard. They weren't pets. They were tools. Useful ones.
The underbrush shifted ahead. A faint grunt. The soft rooting sound of snouts turning up soil.
Cade raised a hand.
The others froze.
"There," Cade murmured, eyes narrowing on the darker cluster of brush near the fallen elm. "She's big."
Female boars were always worse—more aggressive, more protective, more unpredictable. And she had young with her. Henry could already hear them squeaking, scattering like loose stones rolling downhill.
Eli let out the leads slowly. "Josie, Wolf—track."
The hounds surged forward, muscles bunching under their coats, noses low. The brush exploded a heartbeat later. A heavy, bristled sow tore through the grass, her tusks curved like pale sickles, rage steaming off her hide. Three smaller piglets darted in her wake.
"Go!" Henry shouted.
The chase snapped into motion. Feet pounding earth, branches whipping past, Cade out front again, faster than he had any right to be. The boars cut left toward the river, smart enough to aim for mud and cover. Cade didn't let them. He veered wide, driving them back toward a clearing of hard-packed ground where they wouldn't get traction.
Josie lunged first.
Too close.
The sow spun with terrifying speed. Cade shouted—too late. Tusks slashed through the dog's side, deep, ripping. Josie yelped, stumbling, blood darkening her flank. Wolf barked once, circling, keeping distance.
Eli barely looked. Henry didn't look at all.
Cade watched only long enough to confirm the dog was down and not dead enough to matter.
"Keep after them," he ordered, breath steady.
They did.
The sow barreled toward a fallen birch, but Cade was already there. He planted his feet, bowstring drawn. One clean line. One controlled breath.
The arrow buried itself behind the sow's shoulder.
She screamed, staggered, and Henry was on her with a spear, jamming it in deep enough to finish the job. The piglets scattered—Eli took two with quick throws of his knife, Cade caught the last with a precise shot that pinned it to the earth.
When the forest finally went quiet again, the sun had risen past the low branches, and the clearing was streaked with blood and churned soil.
Henry rolled the sow onto her side with a grunt. "Soft hide on this one. Good leather."
"Couple silver stags at least," Eli agreed.
Cade nodded. "We'll skin them here."
They worked without speaking—three young men who had grown up through a war that did not ask who deserved mercy. Cade slit the hide in practiced strokes, peeling it back in wide, even sheets. Henry cleaned the piglets. Eli bound the feet for carrying. The smell of iron and musk clung to them as naturally as sweat.
When they finally hefted the game onto their shoulders and headed back toward Raventree hall, Josie was still lying where she'd fallen.
She whined once when they approached. A wet, dying sound.
Wolf stood beside her, tail low.
Henry stepped over her without pausing. "Should've stayed back. Stupid bitch went too close."
Eli clicked his tongue at Wolf. "Come on, boy."
Cade walked past Josie without slowing, without looking twice. The dog's breathing was thin, shallow, fading.
"Leave her," Cade said. "We've got enough to carry."
And that was that.
They moved on, talking about prices, about whether Leather Tom in the east market was fair this time of year, about how Henry wanted a new pair of gloves and Eli swore he saw a girl from Maidstone smiling at him yesterday.
Josie's body lay still behind them, swallowed by the woods.