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Xifeng woke before the sun. Wei and the soldiers still lay motionless, and the monks had left sometime in the night. She crept over to Wei’s slumbering horse for a spare tunic to ward off the chill. Something caught her eye: one of the soldiers’ shields, propped up against bags on the ground. The sky had lightened enough that she could see her own image in the polished surface.
She looked tired and dirty, and her hair was a mess. She knelt, distracted, and gasped when she saw her cheek. A huge red welt had blossomed overnight where Guma’s cane had bit into her skin, and a bruise bled from its edges. It was as unnatural as a third eye, staring balefully out from her flawless flesh, and the harmony of her whole face suffered from it.
Xifeng touched the injury with a shaky hand, heart drumming a frantic rhythm. Would it scar as Guma hoped? Last evening, she’d had the advantage of nightfall to soften the blemish, but soon it would be broad daylight and there would be no hiding it.
She scrubbed frantically at the welt, willing it to disappear, but it only grew redder and began to bleed. Panic rose as she stanched the weeping wound, cursing Guma. Her aunt’s punishments had always been merciless, but she had made a point never to tarnish Xifeng’s face.
“Gods,” she whispered. There was only one way she could hope to remove this disfigurement, and quickly. She dug into their bags for Wei’s dagger, the one he used to hunt small game, and it clanked gently against his sword. She glanced in horror at the sleeping men, but none of them woke, so she hurried off into the forest.
She made certain to leave their range of hearing before beginning her work. Gathering thin, strong twigs, she whittled and assembled them into a simple trap held together by strips of cloth from her tunic. She covered the snare with dead leaves, as Guma had taught her, and found a hiding place. This was the hardest part, the part beyond her control: waiting for prey.
The sun began to rise and beads of sweat formed on Xifeng’s upper lip, but she resisted the urge to wipe them away. After what seemed like hours, a cracking noise came. She stilled even more, hearing another sound: pattering feet on a branch above her head. It took all of her strength not to look up. She hadn’t gone far from the clearing, but she was hidden well enough that if something tried to hurt her, it might be too late by the time the men heard her screams.
She listened hard, but the sound did not come again. Instead, she heard the shuffling of leaves as two fat gray rabbits appeared. She watched them hop forward, closer to the hidden trap.Move forward,she urged them.Just a bit more.
The trap snapped shut, caging both rabbits inside, and shook as they pressed against the wooden bars. Xifeng approached with the dagger, dread twisting her gut. There was a part of her she had to fight, evennow, not to think about how bright their eyes were or how soft their fur. She tamped down her weakness, so that all she felt was hunger for their meat.
Quickly, before she could lose her resolve, she stabbed them.
The rabbits lay motionless as she pulled them out of the trap, and a memory resurfaced in her mind as she held their lifeless bodies.
She had been twelve, sobbing and clutching a tree squirrel caught in her trap. The poor thing had struggled in her hands, its heart hammering against her fingers.
“Please, Guma,” she had begged, “please don’t make me kill it.”
“You’re a fool,” Guma had snarled. “Remember what happened last time you let one go.”
Xifeng’s back had stung at the words, recalling how her aunt had whipped her until she fainted. She hadn’t known until that day that scars had a memory.
“Break its neck, or I will break your finger.”
Guma never said anything she didn’t mean. And so, heart aching, Xifeng had snapped the squirrel’s neck as quickly as she could. It had taken a few tries before the animal at last lay limp in her trembling fingers. A life gone from the earth, because of her.
That was the first time she had felt thethinginside her ribs... the coiling of the creature born from that first kill.
Guma had praised her and handed her a knife. “The heart of an animal, no matter how small, bears the essence of its soul,” she had said reverently. “To imbibe the lifeblood of another is to guarantee thatyouressence strengthens. The magic within you grows stronger, more powerful, and you heal inside and out. This power and this knowledge is ours, and ours alone. Our blood completes the spell. It is something that was taught to me long ago, and now I teach it to you.”
Xifeng had cried as she obeyed, though the squirrel suffered no more. Its little heart had tasted like iron and rotted meat, slipping down her throat like a hot worm. She had gagged miserably, though her horror had faded when Guma placed a hand on her now-smooth, unscarred back. The squirrel’s lifeblood had healed her wounds—every last one of them.
Xifeng stared at the dead rabbits, thinking of that day.
She had killed three times since then, but only on command, for spells and tonics Guma required. Her aunt had forbidden her from doing so to heal herself. The injuries inflicted upon her were meant to serve as a reminder of obedience—but now she was free of Guma, and she might do as she wished.
The stirring within grew more pronounced and she closed her eyes in prayer.Forgive me, great lords,she begged.Forgive me for the lives I have taken.But there was no answer, and no forgiveness... only a rising dread that beaded her skin with slick perspiration.
In the silence, the hunger began—deep and primal and fierce, stronger than anger, more potent than lust. The creature preened, its poison caress sending tingles of need into every fiber of her body. She was helpless in the face of its desire, for its craving washersas well. Satisfying that hunger would cleanse her and restore the perfection of her face as it should be on a journey to her destiny.
Xifeng stabbed into the rabbits, snapping their bones to find their tiny hearts. She slipped both hearts, still beating weakly with the last vestiges of life, between her lips and chewed. The blood scalded her throat as it slid down deep inside her, and she felt a roar of satisfaction echoing from within. A feeling of sated, lazy pleasure filled her being.
She ran her fingers over her face, now as perfect as it had ever been. Her cheek felt raw and clean, like she had simply scrubbed the woundout. If she were to see her reflection again, this time it might be glowing with well-being, inside and out. The knowledge of this power—and of being able to harness it for herself, whenever she wished—was as heady and addicting as wine.
“Miss?”
Xifeng jumped, dropping the carcasses in her surprise.
Shiro stood nearby. He stared at her not with desire or admiration, as other men did, but with the dawning horror she’d felt the first time Guma had forced her to eat the squirrel’s heart.
Such a look might have made her quake moments ago. But now she felt strong, flawless. “I trapped these for our morning meal,” she said smoothly, with perfect calm. “I wanted to repay you for sharing your boar with us last night.”
