Oh, man, I am hungry!
Heavenly-Autumn spotted a boar nosing through the underbrush, rooting around like it owned the whole stretch of woods. For a heartbeat she could almost hear the village girls again—laughing, correcting her stance, tapping her elbow and telling her, Not so stiff. Breathe. She scrambled up into the hunting stand a little too quickly, bumping her knee and wincing as the boards creaked beneath her. Still, when she lifted her bow, her aim settled on the boar with surprising steadiness… even as her arms trembled and her stomach growled loud enough to feel like a betrayal. Trying to adjust her grip, she loosed the arrow by accident. The shaft whipped past with a sharp thrum, and the boar jolted, squealing as it tore off into the trees. Heavenly-Autumn fumbled for another arrow—then froze. Right behind the fleeing boar came four tiny piglets in a neat, determined line, snorting and scampering to keep up, their little legs pumping as if this were the most serious game in the world. Her breath caught. She let out a long, helpless sigh and lowered her bow; whatever hunger gnawed at her, she couldn't bring herself to do it.
Maybe catching fish would be a bit easier
Using the arrow tip like a clumsy little spear, she prodded at the shadowy shapes gliding through the shallows. To her surprise—after a few splashes, a few missed jabs, and one indignant fish that smacked her arrow with its tail—she managed to catch more than one… then two… then somehow three. By the time she finally stumbled back onto the bank, she had five fish altogether, a ridiculous, flopping "mountain" of silver bodies that slapped the dirt and gasped as if they were complaining about the service.
Yahooo!
As evening sank into the woods, she gathered dry leaves and twigs and fussed over a small flame, coaxing it to life until it crackled warmly. She found a straight wooden stick, skewered the fish one by one, and held them over the fire, turning them carefully while the skins blistered and browned. The smell alone made her stomach sing. When the first one looked properly toasty, she took a cautious bite—then a bigger one—grinning despite herself as the heat and salt and simple victory filled her mouth.
"This is so delicious!" she blurted, eyes shining as she tore into another flaky, fire-kissed bite. She patted her belly like it was a prize drum and kept eating anyway—fast, messy, and utterly unashamed, as if her stomach had been filing complaints for days and she was finally answering them in full. She swallowed, let out an overdramatic sigh, and groaned, "Oh my… I'm stuffed!" Then, still chewing, she cupped her hands and splashed up a drink from the lake. The water tasted like mud and old leaves, but she drank it all the same—grimacing, then laughing at herself—because it was better than nothing to wash down the feast she'd just conquered.
Later, full and soot-smudged, she stretched out on the hard ground and stared up at the starry sky. She breathed in the cool night air and let the quiet settle around her. The glittering spread of stars tugged at something soft inside her, and for a moment she was small again—back home, lying beside her parents, listening to them point out constellations as the night watched over them all.
"It's so wild… how there's not a demon in sight." Heavenly-Autumn's smile turned sleepy and satisfied as she let her eyes drift shut. The night swallowed her words whole, soft and harmless—almost too harmless. Because there was a reason the forest felt so quiet. There was a reason no snarling shadow lunged for her throat, even when her scent carried on the breeze like a bright little bell. Hidden in the dark like patient, grinning sentries, the demons and half-demon villagers of Moharah Village moved through the trees without a whisper, guarding her so closely that even the crickets didn't dare to rat them out. If danger crept near, it didn't last long enough to become a problem.
And when morning came, the protection didn't stop. Heavenly-Autumn stretched until her back popped, utterly unaware of the eyes watching from every patch of shade. "Whew! That sleep was amazing. Almost better than at the village!" she chirped, rubbing her face and blinking at the sun like she'd won a prize for surviving the wilderness. She cupped her hands, scooped up lake water, and splashed it over her cheeks with a little gasp at the cold. Then, still half-yawning, she swallowed her medication with another muddy handful, making a face like the lake itself had personally offended her. The watchers trailed her in silence as she wandered onward—right up to the edge of the barrier. Heavenly-Autumn strolled straight through it without slowing, never seeing the invisible line with the naked eye… while, behind it, the shadows kept their distance and kept their vigil.
"How would she do out there, Master Moharah?" rumbled one demon—tall, broad-shouldered, with monstrous horns that could've hooked a bull—his voice pitched low as if the trees might gossip.
"Without us watching that human girl," a female demon added, her red eyes gleaming and her pointy ears twitching with annoyance. "She would've been devoured by now."
"How come this girl have zero senses?" the little demon children complained, bickering in a swarm of whispers, arguing as if they were debating the world's greatest mystery.
The great demon lord, Moharah, threw back his head and laughed, the sound rich and amused. "As stupid as this human is," Moharah said, shaking their head like they couldn't believe their own feelings, "we cannot help but to love her. How frustrating is that?"