I can't read the underbrush like Cazimir can, and so when he says we're getting near, I'm inclined to believe him.
We slow at a clearing, a body visible between the trees as we approach. Not Ursulette's though, not unless the morning of the Hunt she spiraled her hair in the tightest of curls and died them a muddy clay color.
The three of us proceed with caution.
"Is that a Crusader?" Renee asks.
Caz taps the body with a foot before looking at me."Isn't this one of the prisoners?"
I forget the dead man's name, but he made enough of an impression that I remember his face.
"He was one of the ones who broke into the dungeon to free Char”—I catch myself, even if they both already noticed my slip— “To free some of the prisoners."
Renee's look of annoyance only intensifies, while Caz flashes me one of his bemused grins before resuming his inspection of the man. Most of his neck has been torn from his spine as if a beast was interrupted while mauling him, or perhaps just bored and wanted to play. I suppose that's all the Hunt is, bored beasts looking for some excitement.
The man's entire tunic is soaked through with blood, but Caz zones in on the dark spot on his shoulder. He nudges the body onto the man's stomach to reveal a wound on the back of his shoulder.
"Someone shot him," Caz tuts, breathing through his teeth. "It's not what killed him, but I doubt it felt good."
My first thought is of my cousin, and the black crossbow she pilfered while we were in Gravenburg. Then I remember, she might not be the only one in these woods with a weapon. Then again, it’s not like the Shadow Crusade would have any reason to put a bolt through a human.
"Ursulette had a crossbow,” Renee says, drawing the same conclusion I have. “It had to have been her shot."
Caz rolls his shoulders like he’s not convinced. "It could’ve been the Shadow Crusade.” Crouching beside the body, he gestures to the gaping wound on the side of the dead man’s neck. “Maybe they were aiming for whatever was feeding off him."
I hadn’t considered that.
"Could be." My gaze falls to the ground. The dirt here is visibly disturbed, almost like someone tilled it, but I can’t make much sense of what the different patterns might mean. "What do you see in all of this, Caz?"
"It's hard to say, it’s so busy. Something definitely went down here, that I can say without a doubt. I’m guessing there were four—maybe five of them? Looks like it was a pretty big brawl."
"Well, this is the Hunt,” Renee says, taking a step back to get a better view of the area. She might not be as good as Caz with tracking, but even she knows a little. After all, knowledge is power, and power is a weapon she enjoys wielding. "A couple of noctis probably fought for this human. There are fewer this year, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that meant more physical altercations."
Although her scenario seems likely enough, something won’t let me believe it. We’re in the northernmost region, the place where the prized female prisoners were released. And yet this fellow here should’ve been sent to the south with the prized males. What was he doing all the way up here?
“Or,” I say at long last. “Maybe there were multiple humans and multiple noctis fighting each other. Maybe this one here and his buddies came back up here to try to save their women."
Something primal and territorial within me snarls when I say it, but I try not to let it show.
"Those weak males? Fighting back?" Renee's laughter is rife with condescension. "What would they even have to defend themselves with?"
The color drains from Caz's face. "Ursulette's crossbow."
Cold sweat beads along my spine. I hadn't even considered that someone might've taken it from her. That she might've stormed headfirst into trouble and lost.
No, that can't be right. The dead man was fed upon after he was shot. For whatever reason, Ursulette shot him first and then—
I lean down to examine the body and take a closer look at the bite marks on his throat. The windpipe is completely gone. Ripped from sternum to skull. Another noctis did this, not Ursulette. I don't think she'd have the strength. Then again, I forgot what we're dealing with: a heartbroken, vengeful creature who probably barely even resembles the woman we know and cherish.
When I move the body, blood continues to drip from the wound.
"Whoever fed upon him didn't finish the job," I say, doing nothing to mask my confusion, nor disgust. "None of this is adding up."
"You're right about that," Caz replies, taking a knee beside me. Frowning at the neck that looks more like a cavernous, bloodied maw, he shrugs. "This is good for us though. We should eat."
I jump to my feet. "You're suggesting we feed... Now?"
His shoulders bob. "Whoever was here, they fought, and they fought hard. You said the Shadow Crusade are active in these woods. Maybe it was them. Maybe it was someone else. Or maybe it was a combination of the two."
