The sun was already dipping, long shadows of trees stretching through the windows and spilling across her room.
Liora, seated on the edge of her bed folding her laundry, paused. She rose slowly and gazed out the window into the garden below, where tall, ancient trees stood in brooding silence.
"It has passed," she whispered like she was comforting herself.
"Finally."
"I don't need to worry… we probably have five more years to think of something."
Relief loosened the tight knot in her shoulders as she realized the day was drawing to a close without them showing up. This year, none of their family members had been taken for the Blood Hunt, the brutal ritual that came once every five years.
Turning away from the window, she stepped toward the door, planning to head to the kitchen and see what she could prepare for supper. After all, it was worth it to enjoy a meal after such a stressful day.
Before she hadn't gotten any further, suddenly a knock sounded from their entrance door...
Liora froze in her footsteps and thoughts...
It was late. At this hour, it could only be a neighbor… or perhaps the village chief. The wolf collectors never came when darkness was already creeping in.
Or so she had believed. She immediately withdrew her hand, which had been planning to open the door.
Standing behind her bedroom door, she had a clear view straight into the sitting area. Her father rose from his seat and walked to the door. When he opened it, they came face to face with a man who was neither their neighbor, relative nor friend.
The stranger was unfamiliar to both of them... A New face...
"Hello… good evening," the man spoke up, his voice calm and partially kind.
"What can I do for you?" her father asked, extending his hand. The stranger shook it before her father ushered him inside.
Liora drew a shallow breath, nerves coiling tightly in her throat.
"Hello," the man spoke up again, his tone cold and deliberate. "I'm here to collect one family member for the Blood Hunt that will be taking place tomorrow."
He didn't bother to sit on the worn wooden chairs. Only his eyes wandered around and nothing else.
He went straight to the point, he had more places to be.
Liora froze.
Her heart dropped into a hollow ache. She had believed they would be spared this cycle, that luck had finally smiled upon them. But fate was relentless, and inevitable.
Standing just behind her bedroom door, she reached out nervously and locked it, her hands trembling as she pressed her back against the wood. Panic clawed at her chest. She didn't know what to do.
If she tried to escape, everything would become dangerously complicated and death was imminent. The consequences would be severe, not just for her, but for her entire family and village. But if she stayed… she knew exactly what would happen.
Her father would choose her.
She hadn't even finished the thought when footsteps echoed down the corridor, heading straight toward her room.
"Liora, open the door."
A soft knock followed.
Her breath hitched painfully. Why did it have to be her?
"Father," she called out, forcing her voice to stay calm despite the tremor threatening to break through, "I'm changing my clothes. What's the matter?"
The walls were thin. They were poor. There was no soundproofing, no way she could pretend not to hear what had just transpired in the sitting room.
"Open the door."
His voice was rougher than usual, edged with something sharp and unyielding.
"Father…" She faltered, her hand hovering over the lock. If he had to choose, then he would have to forgive her this time. She didn't want to be picked. She couldn't be.
She didn't want to die like this...
"Open this damn door!"
The knocking turned violent, the door rattling violently under his fists. The old wood groaned in protest.
"Father… what's wrong with you today?" she asked, still feigning ignorance, as though she didn't already know exactly what was happening on the other side.
"You've been chosen for the Blood Hunt," he barked, his voice cracking with fury, or perhaps desperation. "Open the door. Now."
Her chest tightened, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.
"Father, I'm not your only child," she pleaded, hating the weakness in her own voice. "You can choose someone else…"
Why did it have to be her?
Before she could brace herself, a heavy slam struck the door. The old, rusted hinges gave way with a sharp crack, and the door burst inward, roughly slamming against the wall.
Liora stumbled back, her pulse thundering in her ears.
"Father…" Her voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
Without warning, his hand struck her face.
The slap echoed in the small room. Pain flared hot across her cheek. Apart from gawking at him, she was lost for words.