Winter Hunt

Winter days are short, with the sun rising late and setting early. So, even though she rose at the break of dawn, the clock already read past seven. Nansy fiddled with her delicate pocket watch, then sprawled across the bed, stretching luxuriantly. Her whole body felt refreshed and light, and she couldn’t help but silently praise the virtues of the hot spring: upon arriving at the villa yesterday, she discovered the girls’ bathrooms were filled with hot spring water. She soaked once at noon and again in the evening, gathering with the others at the spring’s source. The baths left her skin even fairer and smoother, her body light and comfortable.

Touching her face, Nansy wondered whether the effects of the hot spring were truly remarkable or if it was just her imagination; her skin felt extraordinarily soft all over. She sighed inwardly, wishing she could have a villa like this of her own someday—then she would surely bathe three times a day, making sure her skin received every “nutritional supplement” possible!

After daydreaming for a while, Nansy reluctantly got up, changing into a brand-new riding outfit. Today’s plan was a winter hunt. She doubted the girls would catch anything at this late hour, but since they were already here, and in a region famed for its winter hunting grounds, she would accompany Miranda, who loved hunting, to ride and release the hounds—bonding and camaraderie were reason enough.

With so many people, every activity became sluggish. By the time the group was finally ready to depart, it was already past eight thirty. Miranda stood at the door, watching as the last guest rode up to join the party. She shook her head helplessly, spurred her horse, and soon took the lead, guiding the girls along the path.

Calling it a winter hunt was almost misleading; it was more like a countryside horseback excursion. The girls’ pace was leisurely, filled with laughter and chatter, turning what should have been a journey of a few minutes into one nearing half an hour.

Glancing back at the group, now split into three clusters, each chatting amongst themselves, Miranda sighed deeply, feeling her carefully planned outing slipping away. Her friend beside her nudged her, saying, “You’re always worrying too much. Even if we don’t hunt, everyone enjoys riding. No need to be so particular.”

Miranda knew her friend was right, but couldn’t help feeling a bit regretful. She sighed, “Never mind, as long as everyone’s happy, it doesn’t matter what we do.” So she let the girls indulge in their fun and games even more.

Though winter had come, the forest remained dense and verdant. They hadn’t been in the woods long before Miranda, at the front, heard fierce roars rising and falling from the distance. Energized, she whistled, and the hounds by her side, stirred by the sound, shot off into the trees, vanishing in moments. Miranda, delighted, raised her whip with a shout, and, paying no mind to the slow-moving girls behind her, galloped ahead. Some of the girls who were also keen on hunting followed her, and after a brief hesitation, Nansy spurred her horse to join them.

Miranda and her group followed the hounds at a brisk trot. Suddenly, the three well-trained hounds, as if catching the scent of prey, began barking frantically and split off in three directions, advancing forward. The girls slowed their horses, each drawing a short bow, alert and cautious.

The roars grew closer, and the seasoned hunters among them recognized the distinctive cry of a hunting cat—a creature as feline as a lynx, rare and prized. One hunting cat was worth more than a dozen well-trained hounds. Though they couldn’t see who was driving the prey ahead, the girls felt a pang of envy for whoever owned such a creature. As the cat’s roar weakened—signaling it was closing in on its quarry—the rustling of leaves drew nearer to the girls, and their hearts tightened. They nocked arrows, while two obvious magicians prepared their spells, waiting for the prey to appear.

Suddenly, an eerie wind swept through the forest, its origin unknown. It blew through the trees, then vanished as abruptly as it had come. From a clump of half-withered shrubs, a flash of blue darted out, blending into the greenery. Instantly, arrows whistled toward the bush, but their speed was no match for the prey, missing it entirely—barely brushing even its shadow. Worse, they nearly hit the three hounds trailing the scent.

In the ensuing chaos, Miranda was the first to spot a beautiful spotted hunting cat perched on a high branch, a deer-like creature clamped in its jaws, half its own size. The cat’s cold eyes fixed on the group, “cat’s gaze sharp,” as if ready to drop its kill and leap at them. The hounds circled Miranda, growling warnings at the cat.

The atmosphere was tense. Suddenly, a whistle sounded, and the hunting cat sharpened its claws on the branch before turning and vanishing into the woods in a few swift bounds.

Freed from danger, Miranda felt not fear but growing curiosity and excitement. She raised her whip and rode after the direction the cat had gone, clearly intending to meet its owner.

After a short ride, the forest opened up, revealing the girls had left the woods and come to a small riverside. The clear stream sparkled in the sunlight, and from time to time, white mist rose from its surface. Along the shore lay piles of smooth stones, some reflecting rainbow hues under the sun. On a large milky stone, two girls sat, splashing in the water, unconcerned about the winter chill. Nearby, two chestnut horses grazed leisurely, their saddles laden with game—a sign that the girls had had a successful hunt.

Miranda dismounted and approached, smiling, “Hey, Benita, when did you come to Cervantes? Why didn’t you let me know?”

The girls playing by the river were Benita and Teresa, out for an early winter hunt. Seeing Miranda, Benita winked mischievously at Teresa, made a face, then hopped onto the bank, waving, “Hehe, Miranda, you’re so slow! I’ve been in Cervantes for months, but you were in the imperial capital, so I didn’t want to bother you.”

“So, you’re not… um, studying over there today?” Miranda seemed to want to mention a place, but hesitated with Teresa nearby, feeling awkward about the change and annoyed at her own loose tongue.

Benita laughed, waving it off, “Don’t mind, Miranda. I lost a bet with my grandaunt, so I’m attending classes at Saint Alberta now. Since you’re back from the capital, it’s perfect—I'll come find you to hang out when I have time!”

Miranda nodded eagerly, “No need to wait! Today I’ve invited some friends for a little… outing. If you and your companion are free, you’re welcome to join us.”

As they chatted, Teresa had finished drying her feet and putting on her shoes, joining Benita. Benita hooked her arm and introduced, “This is my friend from Cervantes, Teresa Brento Borje. Teresa, this is Miranda, the one I told you about—Miranda loves making friends!”

Teresa smiled gently, offering a courteous greeting. Miranda, surprised, glanced at Benita holding Teresa’s arm, silently reassessing Teresa’s importance.

After exchanging greetings, Benita glanced at the impatient girls by the woods and smiled, “Miranda, Teresa and I have been out since dawn. We're a bit tired—maybe next time we can join your friends. I’m staying at my grandaunt’s villa, so we’re close by.”

Miranda tentatively asked, “There’s a bonfire party tonight. If you’re interested, I can send you an invitation when I get back?”

Benita and Teresa exchanged glances; Benita nodded in agreement. After saying farewell to Miranda, they called their horses and rode swiftly along the riverbank. Following them was a lightning-fast shadow—the same spotted hunting cat Miranda had seen earlier in the woods.

Once Benita and Teresa departed, Miranda’s guests finally approached, each asking about their identities. When Miranda greeted them earlier, she had made a “do not approach unless invited” gesture—clearly indicating Benita and Teresa were of extraordinary status, certainly higher than Miranda’s, and not to be offended by the Hacke family or anyone else.

Miranda laughed off their questions, revealing nothing. The girls were used to such situations; after probing, they didn’t press further—best not to risk a confrontation. Instead, they settled by the riverbank to rest.

Lilian, holding her cheeks, stared blankly at the water, lost in thought. Nansy hesitated, then gently nudged her, “Lilian, what are you thinking?”

“I was thinking about those two just now,” Lilian wrinkled her nose, “They looked familiar. One kind of resembles the younger sister from the Archil family.”

“How could that be?” Nansy stiffened, forcing a strained smile. Fortunately, Lilian was absorbed in her thoughts and missed her discomfort. “You’re overthinking it, Lilian. Given Miranda’s reaction, those two are definitely special—you must have mistaken them.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Lilian pouted, pondering, “Perhaps I really did make a mistake.”

Nansy quickly changed the subject, preventing Lilian from dwelling further, though inwardly she was tormented. Only she knew Lilian hadn't mistaken her—one of the girls was Teresa, the one who was never as beautiful, never as accomplished, never as charming… never as good as herself!

But why would someone like Teresa receive such respect from Miranda—the very Miranda Nansy had been struggling to win over?

Caught in these tangled thoughts, Nansy's expression grew darker, barely able to maintain her usual sweet smile…