It was the night of the Human Hunt. The lord of the Juton manor and his ilk liked to hunt people, and this time she was the prey. Usually trespassers or debtors were made to run the grounds while avoiding traps and hunters, but those were in short supply as of late. People had begun to avoid Lord Juton’s land and borrowed money at all costs. The men who had taken loans or owed some type of debt gradually died off in this manner, and no new ones were to be found. When Lord Juton ran out of offenders, he turned to the staff of the estate, most of whom had grown up working for his lineage.

Clara Handil and her family had been working for the Juton’s for several generations. She grew up wandering the halls of the great manor, following her mother as they went about the place cleaning and patching the nobles’ clothes. Clara had worked all her life. Her mother used to tease her that she had the soul of an old maid, which was why Clara had a natural streak of silver through her brown hair. It certainly set her apart from the other maids, but it was an unwelcome identifier when Clara was trying to hide in the crowd of workers as Lord Juton picked out his prey. She felt his stare before she noticed his greedy eyes had landed on her. It seemed he relished the idea of chasing down an amber-eyed “skunk.”

Clara was currently running down the main hall, drenched in sweat and begging for daybreak. She had managed to make it through all of yesterday afternoon and most of the night, so there were only a few more hours until the hunt was over. If she survived until dawn without being caught, then she would be free. Only until next year though… unless another lord catches me and decides not to kill me… She thought as she rounded a corner, headed for the servants’ quarters. There were a lot of places to hide in there, and she had been avoiding it to save it as a last resort. If she had gone there earlier in the night then it would be crawling with hunters looking everywhere for her, and no hiding place was good enough to fool Lord Juton’s hounds for long. The noblemen who participated alongside Lord Juton had dogs and hunting animals of their own, but only Juton’s hounds were allowed inside the manor. Everything of his, except for the horses, was used, though the horses were only spared because this year the hunt took place inside the twisting manor. Clara’s only guess was they wanted the thrill of chasing something in its natural habitat.

Over the course of the Hunt she had been pecked by several falcons, their beaks tearing off small strips of skin from her arms as they twisted in the air, different traps nearly breaking her ankles, and the hounds had taken several inches off the hem of her dress. They had also taken a swath of skin from the back of her left leg, the extent of which she had yet to really look at. Whatever their master marked as prey they chased with unbridled viciousness, whether or not it was human.

Strips of fabric torn from her dress were enough to stem the flow of blood from her leg. She didn’t dare look too closely, but noticed leaking droplets leaving a dotted trail everywhere she went. There were only a couple of hours left, and the dogs were close on her heels. If she could make it to her family’s suite then her scent would be everywhere, meaning she could hide below the trapdoor under the bed. Her mother used to stash bronze and silver coins they’d saved down there, but when she got sick Clara used all of it to send her to a doctor in the mountains. At least out there she was free from Juton’s insane ravings and acts. But Clara wouldn’t leave the estate knowing she would no longer be able to pay for her mother’s care.

Clara made it as far as the atrium that separated the main house from the servant’s building, filled with berry bushes and fragrant flowers, when she ran into a brick wall. It wasn’t, however, a new brick wall that someone decided to put in the middle of the pathway; it was a man, who was now holding Clara by her shoulders with an unreadable expression on his face. The barking reached her heels, but the hounds kept their distance from the man, whom she now recognized as Duke Machivall, someone Lord Juton often did business with. She had no idea he was part of this; he never seemed like the type to get involved in the Human Hunt. At least, she hadn’t seen him involved in it before.

Lord Juton and his party of noblemen caught up with her, and Clara fought to free herself from the Duke’s grip, her heart racing as she looked for a way out. But the Duke wasn’t letting go. In fact, his grip was probably the only thing keeping her upright now that she had stopped running. Her legs were worn to numbness, the world spinning wildly around her as it floated in and out of focus, and the muscles in her body were weak and jelly-like. Going a whole day without food, with very little water, both while running across a manor that spanned nearly three acres, had dried her throat and slowed her thinking. Lord Juton looked from Clara to the Duke and laughed, a sound that made Clara’s panic spike, freezing her in place.

“Well, it would seem your first hunt is successful, Duke Machivall!” Lord Juton laughed, some of the other nobles joining in. “Now that you’ve caught the prize, you may decide what to do with it.”

“Is that so?” the Duke answered, glancing down at Clara with an unreadable face. “Then I will take her with me. I’m in need of more workers.” Lord Juton looked surprised and disappointed. The other noblemen grumbled, some cursing under their breath. Lord Juton sniffed.

“Very well then, she’s all yours, though I’d ask that you leave before I change my mind.”

“With pleasure,” Duke Machivall growled. “I’ll be back in two weeks to finish our discussion.” The Duke looked down at Clara as Lord Juton and his group of hunters went back inside, glaring at the pair of them. “What’s your name?” Clara blinked up at him, unsure of whether or not her voice would work at this point.

“Clara, sir,” she finally said. Her words came out as a rough whisper, but he nodded, then finally let go of her shoulders. Clara felt her body sag as she shook, but willed herself to stay standing.

“Do you have anything you need to collect before we can leave?”

“No, sir, I own nothing,” she answered. She had sold everything she could to help pay for the doctor. The only thing she couldn’t sell was her uniform. She borrowed a nightgown from the bin of tossed clothes that visiting noble ladies threw out. She’d found a lot of nice clothes in there that she’d been able to sell after fixing them up a little.

“Then come with me, quickly,” he ordered.

Duke Machivall checked their surroundings, as though worried about being watched, then gestured for Clara to follow him. She stumbled after him as he stalked through the garden and out a small side door in the stone wall. He had to kick it down, and Clara had a fleeting thought of how strange it was for him to leave in this manner, but it was soon gone and forgotten. They paced along a dirt path that led out to the edge of the front lawn. A stable boy she didn’t know was holding the reigns of a grey and white speckled mare beside the fountain, alongside several carriages whose horses were missing. She followed the Duke in a daze towards the lone horse. The stable boy looked just as tired as she was. He must have been standing out here all night, the poor boy. The Duke took the reigns and the boy bowed before hurriedly walking towards the stables, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with a yawn.

The Duke gestured for Clara to mount the horse. She stared for a second, trying to think if she knew how a horse was supposed to be mounted. One foot found the stirrup before the dizziness set in. She felt her body lean backward, the swirling of her surroundings turning to blackness, but before she fell the Duke caught her. He set her up on the horse and mounted behind her with ease, like he’d done it thousands of times. As he spurred the horse forward she watched the world quickly fade into a velvet void of static, her body relaxing into the warmth behind her. Vaguely she felt an arm around her, holding her safe as the world shook and faded into a dream.