004 ※ Snake Stew and Fae Menace: Dinner's Served, If You Survive the Night

I was out hunting, searching for snakes to add to the stew I was planning to make. The vegetables I had found earlier today were just the right mix for it. I was on the west side of the forest, near the lake, a spot I had grown familiar with over time. It was quiet here, away from the noise of civilization, and I usually had a good chance of finding a decent catch. The air was crisp, the ground soft beneath my boots as I moved, my eyes scanning the forest floor for any signs of movement. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the sky, painting it in shades of orange, pink, and purple. The kind of sunset that could make a person forget the dangers lurking in the woods, but I knew better than to let my guard down.

The hunt had been going well so far. I had already bagged a couple of snakes, which would be just enough for the stew. I was about to head back when something changed in the air. I caught a smell—an unusual one. It wasn't like the usual scents of the forest, the earthy smell of damp soil or the crispness of leaves in the fall. This one was different, strange. It was sweet, but not in a way that made you feel safe. It was the kind of sweetness that could draw you in, make you want to linger, but there was something off about it. It was almost addictive, the kind of thing that would beg you to take a step closer. But that wasn't all. There was another layer to it, something darker and far more sinister. The unmistakable tang of blood. Fresh blood.

My body immediately froze, every muscle locking in place as my instincts screamed at me to get the hell out of there. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I slowly scanned the area, my senses heightened. I turned my head slightly, trying to catch any other scents or sounds, anything that would explain the dangerous combination in the air. That's when I felt it.

A presence. One that wasn't there just a moment ago. It wasn't just the scent anymore—it was a sensation, a heavy weight pressing down on me. My heart skipped a beat as I turned my head slowly, my body already on high alert. It was a fae male, I could tell. I didn't know who he was or why he was here, but I could feel his power, his presence like a shadow looming over me. The air around me seemed to grow thicker, charged with something I couldn't quite place. His aura was enough to make the blood in my veins run cold.

I couldn't afford to stay any longer. I had no idea what this fae male wanted, but I wasn't about to stick around to find out. I grabbed the two snakes I had caught—barely enough for tonight's meal—and made my decision in an instant. I needed to get to the treehouse. I had to move quickly.

The faes, they knew this forest like the back of their hands. They were creatures of the night, far more familiar with the darkness than I could ever be. I wasn't about to become another casualty of their territory. They moved with a grace and silence that was beyond anything I could mimic. If I stayed too long, I'd be the one on the receiving end of their attention. I wasn't about to let that happen.

I felt my pulse quicken, adrenaline surging through my body as I broke into a run. My legs burned with the effort, my feet pounding the ground beneath me as I forced myself to move faster. I wasn't the best runner—I didn't enjoy it, and it always left me winded—but fear had a way of pushing you beyond your limits. The treehouse was my sanctuary. The closer I got, the safer I'd be.

By the time I reached the base of the tree, my heart was thundering in my chest. I could still feel the fae male's presence, close, but not right behind me. Not yet, at least. My breath came in sharp gasps as I grabbed the nearest branch and pulled myself upward, climbing with all the urgency I could muster. My hands were slick with sweat, but my movements were fluid, instinctual. I didn't think about it. I just climbed. Every step, every motion was practiced over time, and I moved with a desperation that only a life-or-death situation could instill.

Once I was inside, I wasted no time. I slammed the door shut behind me, the sound echoing in the small space. Without thinking, I locked it with the mechanism I'd crafted three years ago—something I had spent countless hours perfecting. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep me safe for now. I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. I was far from out of danger.

I quickly moved to the cauldron, where I had already placed water and vegetables to simmer. It was one of my few comforts, the smell of the stew already starting to fill the room as I dropped the two snakes into the pot. The warmth from the cauldron wrapped around me like a familiar embrace, comforting despite the situation outside. I could almost forget about the fae male, almost convince myself that I was safe. Almost.

I reached out, calling on my wrath of fire to light the stove beneath the cauldron. The flames flickered to life, dancing beneath the pot, their heat filling the small treehouse. My control over the fire had taken years to master. At first, cooking with it had been a struggle. It was like trying to tame a wild animal, unpredictable and erratic. But I had learned. Cooking with my wrath was no longer a challenge, it was second nature.

Cooking with snakes, squirrels, and rabbits had been a strange adjustment. I wasn't used to this kind of food. I had grown up on simpler meals—things I could forage without much effort. But this life, this new life I had carved out for myself, it required new ways, new techniques. I had to adapt. And over time, I did. Snake stew with vegetables had become my go-to meal. It wasn't just out of necessity, though. It was comforting. The rhythm of preparing it, the way it all came together in the pot—it felt like something I could rely on. A small piece of normalcy in a world that had long since lost its sense of stability.

I sat down, my back against the wall as I watched the stew bubble. The small room was warm, the cauldron's heat seeping into the floorboards. It was peaceful, in a way. For a moment, I could forget the outside world, forget the dangers that lurked just beyond the treehouse. The bubbling stew, the crackling fire—it felt like home.

Then, just as I allowed myself to relax, I heard it. A snap. A crack of a branch breaking somewhere nearby.

My heart skipped a beat, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. Someone was out there. Someone had been following me. How had I missed it?

I stood up immediately, my heart hammering in my chest. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. The fae male was still out there. And I had been too focused on cooking, too comfortable in my false sense of security, to notice.

Gods damn it. How had I let my guard down?

The air around me felt heavier now, thicker with the weight of impending danger. The tension in my stomach coiled tighter, my muscles tensing as I prepared myself for whatever was coming next. Survival didn't wait. Survival didn't offer you moments of peace.

The stew could wait. It was time to be ready.