It is rare to remember the scent of the day you first met someone. But the air of that day, the light, and even the wind are still vivid in my memory.

The smell of damp earth, wet grass, and the breath of a beast mixed with the scent of blood. Everything was familiar. I went out hunting that day, too. In the forest, I was the only law, and the single rifle in my hand was the order of the world.

But that day, something made my gaze stop.

A small figure moved beneath an old tree. At first, I thought it was prey. But it wasn't the build of a beast. Slender shoulders, hair fluttering in the breeze, and the sight of her tending to sprouts with dirt-stained hands.

It was the small girl said to be the stableman's foster daughter.

I stopped my horse and stood there. For a long time, unable to say a word. I didn't know that starting a conversation would be harder than killing a man.

Since that day, I began a game more cruel than hunting. My gaze moved outside of my will toward her, and a single smile from her shattered my composure.