Three weeks had passed since Bete's first training session, and the autumn air carried the crisp promise of winter. The leaves on the great oaks surrounding Silverfang village had turned brilliant shades of gold and crimson, creating a canopy that filtered the morning sunlight into dancing patterns on the forest floor.
Bete stood at the edge of the village with a group of older children and several adults, his heart hammering against his ribs with nervous excitement. Today marked his first real hunt—not the practice sessions with wooden swords and straw targets, but an actual expedition into the Whispering Woods to track and capture game for the village's winter stores.
"Remember," Captain Fenris addressed the group, his voice carrying the authority of years of experience, "this is a learning expedition. The children are here to observe and assist, not to lead. Stay close to your assigned partners, follow instructions without question, and above all else, prioritize safety over success."
Bete's assigned partner was Viktor, a seasoned hunter in his thirties whose weathered hands and patient demeanor had made him the perfect choice for training young aspirants. Viktor's specialty was tracking small game—rabbits, birds, and the occasional fox that ventured too close to the village boundaries.
"Nervous, lad?" Viktor asked, adjusting the straps of his leather pack.
"A little," Bete admitted, checking his own smaller pack for the third time. Inside were basic supplies: water, dried meat, bandages, and a small hunting knife that felt impossibly heavy on his belt.
"Good. A bit of nervousness keeps you sharp. It's when you get overconfident that the forest starts teaching hard lessons."
The hunting party consisted of twelve people total—six experienced hunters paired with six children ranging in age from Bete at eight to Kael at nine, with the oldest being Marcus, a boy of nearly eleven who carried himself with the swagger of someone convinced of his own importance.
As they moved into the forest, Bete was struck by how different everything felt from his previous trips to gather berries or collect firewood with Mira and Grandmother. The woods seemed alive in a way he had never noticed, full of subtle sounds and movements that spoke of creatures going about their daily business of survival.
"First lesson," Viktor whispered as they followed a narrow game trail deeper into the trees. "The forest is always watching you. Every step you take, every breath you draw, every sound you make—something is aware of it. The key to successful hunting isn't being invisible. It's being part of the natural rhythm instead of disrupting it."
They walked in silence for nearly an hour, Viktor occasionally pointing out tracks in the soft earth or signs of animal passage that Bete would never have noticed on his own. A cluster of nibbled bark here, a few scattered feathers there, the subtle depression in fallen leaves that marked where a deer had bedded down for the night.
"How do you see all of this?" Bete asked during one of their brief rest stops.
"Practice," Viktor replied simply. "And patience. Most people look at the forest and see trees. Hunters learn to read the stories the forest is always telling—which animals passed this way, when they were here, where they might be going."
The lesson was interrupted by a commotion from another part of the hunting party. Marcus's voice carried through the trees, loud enough to make Viktor wince.
"I found tracks! Huge ones! This has to be the biggest rabbit in the entire forest!"
Viktor sighed and motioned for Bete to follow as they made their way toward the source of the disturbance. They found Marcus kneeling beside what were indeed rabbit tracks, but his partner, an older hunter named Aldric, was shaking his head in exasperation.
"Marcus, how many times do I have to tell you to keep your voice down?" Aldric hissed. "You've probably scared off every animal within a mile radius."
"But look at these tracks!" Marcus insisted, pointing at the impressions in the mud beside a small stream. "They're enormous!"
Viktor knelt beside the tracks, studying them carefully while Bete watched over his shoulder. "What do you think, lad?" Viktor asked quietly. "What do these tracks tell you?"
Bete examined the prints, applying everything Viktor had taught him during their morning walk. The tracks were indeed large for a rabbit, but something about them seemed odd.
"They're... strange," Bete said slowly. "The front paws are the right size for a big rabbit, but the back paws are too close together. And the depth is wrong—they're deeper in front than in back."
Viktor nodded approvingly. "Excellent observation. What else?"
Bete studied the tracks more carefully, noticing details that Marcus had missed in his excitement. "There are other tracks mixed in. Smaller ones, but following the same path."
"Very good. And what does that suggest?"
Before Bete could answer, a rustling in the underbrush nearby caught everyone's attention. The hunting party froze, hands moving instinctively toward weapons, as something large moved through the dense ferns at the edge of the clearing.
What emerged wasn't the giant rabbit Marcus had imagined. Instead, a mother rabbit hopped into view, followed by three half-grown kits who were practicing the long leaps that would help them escape predators. The "enormous" tracks belonged to the mother rabbit, but they had been deepened and distorted by the weight of her offspring jumping in her footprints as they learned to follow her trail.
"A teaching moment," Viktor whispered to Bete. "The mother is training her young ones to use her path through the forest. The kits step in her tracks to learn the route and to hide their numbers from predators."
Marcus's face reddened as he realized his mistake, but before anyone could comment, the peaceful scene was disrupted by a new sound—a low growl that sent chills down Bete's spine.
The rabbits scattered instantly, disappearing into the underbrush with remarkable speed. The hunting party tensed as a large fox emerged from the opposite side of the clearing, its rust-colored coat gleaming in the dappled sunlight.
"Everyone stay calm," Captain Fenris commanded softly. "It's just a fox. They rarely attack groups this large."
But as the fox moved into the clearing, Bete noticed something that made his blood run cold. The animal was moving strangely, its gait unsteady and its head hanging at an odd angle. Foam flecked its muzzle, and its eyes held a wild, unfocused look that spoke of sickness.
"Father," Bete whispered urgently. "Something's wrong with it."
Fenris followed his son's gaze and immediately understood. "Rabid," he breathed. "Everyone back away slowly. No sudden movements."
A rabid fox was one of the forest's most dangerous threats. Unpredictable, fearless, and driven by a madness that made it attack anything that moved, such creatures had been known to charge through entire hunting parties, biting anything within reach before being brought down.
The fox's crazed gaze swept across the group and fixed on Marcus, who stood frozen in terror at the edge of the clearing. The animal's lips pulled back in a snarl, and its muscles bunched as it prepared to charge.
"Marcus, move!" Aldric shouted, but the boy seemed paralyzed by fear.
In that critical moment, several things happened at once. Captain Fenris reached for his sword while moving to intercept the fox's charge. Aldric lunged toward Marcus, trying to pull him out of danger. And Bete, without thinking, grabbed a fist-sized stone from the stream bank and hurled it with all his strength.
The stone struck the fox in the shoulder, not hard enough to seriously injure it but sufficient to redirect its attention. The animal spun toward this new threat, its rabid fury now focused entirely on the smallest member of the hunting party.
"Bete, run!" Viktor shouted, but there was no time.
The fox launched itself through the air with the desperate strength of madness, its jaws open and foam flying from its muzzle. Bete had perhaps two seconds to react, and in that span of time, every lesson from his training sessions flashed through his mind.
Don't try to match strength with strength. Use your opponent's momentum against them. Stay low and stay mobile.
Instead of running or trying to block the fox's charge, Bete dropped to one knee and rolled to the side, letting the animal's trajectory carry it past him. As it landed and spun for another attack, Bete was already moving, keeping the fox between himself and the armed adults.
"Hold it there, lad!" Viktor called out. "Just a few more seconds!"
The fox gathered itself for another charge, but this time Captain Fenris was ready. His sword flashed in the dappled sunlight, and the rabid animal fell still.
In the silence that followed, the only sounds were the heavy breathing of the hunting party and the distant call of birds that had been disturbed by the commotion.
"Is everyone all right?" Fenris asked, his gaze moving quickly over each member of the group.
Nods and quiet confirmations answered him, but his eyes lingered on Bete, who was still crouched near where the fox had fallen.
"That was quick thinking, son," Fenris said quietly. "And brave. But also very dangerous."
"Marcus was in trouble," Bete replied simply. "I couldn't just watch."
Marcus, who had finally regained his composure, approached Bete with an expression that mixed gratitude with embarrassment. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I... I froze up. If you hadn't distracted it..."
"You would have done the same for me," Bete replied, though privately he wasn't entirely sure that was true.
Viktor clapped a hand on Bete's shoulder. "That was good instinctive movement, lad. You used the terrain, kept mobile, and trusted your teammates to finish the job. Those are advanced concepts that some hunters never master."
As the party prepared to head home—the excitement of the rabid fox having effectively ended the hunting expedition—Kael fell into step beside Bete.
"Show off," he said with a grin that took any sting out of the words.
"Hardly," Bete replied. "I was terrified the entire time."
"That's what made it brave," came an unexpected voice. They turned to see Captain Fenris walking behind them, his expression thoughtful. "Courage isn't the absence of fear, Bete. It's acting in spite of fear when something important is at stake."
The walk back to the village passed quietly, each member of the hunting party lost in their own thoughts about what they had witnessed. But as they approached the familiar walls of Silverfang, Viktor pulled Bete aside.
"How do you feel about your first real hunt?" he asked.
Bete considered the question carefully. The day hadn't gone at all as he had expected. Instead of tracking rabbits and learning woodland skills, he had faced life-and-death danger and discovered things about himself he hadn't known existed.
"Different," he said finally. "I thought hunting would be about patience and skill. But today it was about protecting someone when they couldn't protect themselves."
Viktor nodded slowly. "That's a lesson some hunters never learn, lad. The forest doesn't just teach us about tracking animals or reading signs. It teaches us about ourselves—who we are when everything goes wrong, and what we're willing to risk for others."
As they entered the village gates, Bete caught sight of Mira and Grandmother Elsa waiting near their home, clearly eager to hear about his first hunting expedition. He found himself looking forward to telling them about the fox and the rabbits, about reading tracks and forest signs.
But mostly, he found himself thinking about the moment when he had seen Marcus in danger and hadn't hesitated to act. There had been no calculation, no weighing of risks and benefits. There had only been the absolute certainty that he couldn't stand by and watch someone get hurt.
It was a feeling he would remember for the rest of his life.