Lucian had heard of Selia long before he ever saw her.
The villagers called her "The Wolf Who Walks on Two Legs", not out of insult but deep respect. Hunters spoke her name in hushed tones, children whispered ghost stories about her living alone in the forest's edge, and farmers often blamed her for scaring away prey—though they'd all sleep easier knowing she was keeping predators out of the valley. She was, after all, not just a hunter. She was the hunter.
Lucian had always been curious about her, but until now, she'd existed only in glimpses. A distant figure with a bow across her back. A woman walking alone toward the mountains with something bloody and heavy slung over her shoulder. A flicker of green and brown at the edge of the woods.
And now, finally, he stood at her doorstep.
The hunter's house was a modest cabin nestled into the treeline, just far enough from the village to be considered isolation, yet close enough for those brave—or desperate—enough to approach. The house was built mostly of dark timber, with bone ornaments hanging under the sloped roof. Antlers were nailed like trophies above the door. The place had a wild, alive feel to it, like the forest had grown around her and agreed to let her stay.
Lucian hesitated at the threshold, his boots crunching the gravel path. The forest around him murmured with birds and distant rustles. The morning sun cast light through the trees in gold shafts, and the air smelled of pine, smoke, and animal musk.
Before he could knock, the door creaked open.
Selia stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame. She looked exactly how the stories described her—and somehow, nothing like them at all.
She wasn't tall by adult standards, maybe a few centimeters taller than his mother, but she held herself with a posture that gave the illusion of height. Her black hair was cropped short in a clean military cut, and her skin had the rich bronze of someone who'd lived under the sun for years without hiding from it. Her eyes—sharp, steel gray—locked onto Lucian like a hawk spotting prey. Not unkind. Just… precise.
She wore a well-worn leather jacket over a moss-green shirt, green cargo pants, and brown hunting boots with soles designed for silence. A belt of knives circled her hips. The handle of a hunting bow peeked out behind her back.
"What do you want?" she asked bluntly, voice low and direct.
Lucian swallowed but stood his ground. "You're Selia?"
"Unfortunately," she said dryly. "And you're one of Elina's kids."
"Yes. I'm Lucian."
Selia raised an eyebrow. "You don't look like a future hunter."
"I'm not. I just… wanted to learn. About tracking. And wild animals. And maybe a bit about survival."
"Magic boy wants to play wilderness?" she smirked, but there was no cruelty in it. Just honesty.
Lucian felt his cheeks flush but didn't back down. "I want to understand the world better. I want to see how people live outside the farm."
She studied him for a moment, then stepped aside. "Come in. Just don't touch anything that smells like meat or you'll wish you hadn't."
He entered the cabin and was hit with a powerful scent of leather, smoke, dried blood, and herbs. It wasn't unpleasant, just raw. Real. The walls were decorated with hunting tools, maps, and skulls—some of them small and delicate, others massive and terrifying. There were pelts draped over furniture, a rack of spears leaning by the window, and bundles of herbs drying over the fireplace.
"Sit," Selia ordered, motioning to a fur-covered stool. She moved to a table and began cleaning a wicked-looking knife.
Lucian sat, hands on his knees, eyes wide.
"You're not the first village kid to come sniffing around," she said, wiping the blade down with oil. "But you're the youngest to walk here alone. That earns you five minutes."
"Only five?" he asked, half-joking.
"Earn more," she shot back.
Lucian hesitated, then asked, "How did you learn to do all this?"
Selia glanced at him. "I wasn't raised in Brigadoon. I came here when I was fifteen. Wandered from the east, through bandit territory and worse. Learned the hard way that talking doesn't feed you. Killing does. So I learned to kill. Efficiently."
Lucian blinked. "You… killed people?"
"Bandits," she replied calmly. "Slavers. Monsters. Things you only know from bedtime stories."
Lucian looked down. "I want to be strong too. But I don't think I could ever kill someone."
Selia tilted her head. "Then you'd better get strong enough that you don't have to."
A silence passed between them.
Then, to Lucian's surprise, she tossed him a small leather pouch. He caught it clumsily.
"What's this?"
"Dried jerky. Rabbit. Took me three days to catch it. Eat it."
Lucian chewed slowly. It was salty, smoky, and tough. He could barely bite through it, but it tasted like real effort.
Selia smirked again. "Not bad for a farm kid."
Lucian grinned. "Thanks."
She leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "You want a lesson? Here's your first: everything out here has a scent. Trees, rain, blood, lies. Learn to smell it. Know what doesn't belong."
Lucian nodded seriously.
"And don't trust magic to solve your problems. Magic can lie. Nature doesn't."
That line hit him harder than he expected.
He remembered the book in Nana's house. The one that claimed light and darkness were truths in their own ways. But Selia's truth was tangible. Bloody and unfiltered.
He wanted both.
"Can I come back?" he asked. "To learn more?"
Selia raised an eyebrow. "You got chores at home?"
He nodded. "Always."
"Then come after. Once a week. Bring something useful. Firewood, herbs, rabbit if you can trap one. No free lessons."
"I'll bring something," he said quickly.
"Good," she said, standing up. "Then you're not useless."
As she walked toward the door, Lucian followed. Before he stepped outside, she placed a hand briefly on his shoulder.
"You've got too much brain for a kid," she said. "That'll either save you or get you killed."
Lucian looked up at her. "I'll take my chances."
Selia grinned for the first time. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it lit up her usually stoic face. "Good answer."
As he left her house and headed back down the trail toward the village, Lucian felt something shift inside him. Not the kind of change you could explain or even name—but something real, like a seed planted deep in the soil of his soul.
Magic was a path. But it wasn't the only one.