The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 74: A Peaceful Evening

Chapter 74: A Peaceful Evening

The sky turned deep violet by the time we stopped. Grass bent in waves around our ankles, and the trees had thinned to crooked shadows on the horizon. I picked a spot along the low ridge—nothing fancy, just open space, higher ground, and no soft places for an ambush to hide. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. Shi Yaozu dismounted without a word and moved like he’d have picked the same ground himself.

The horses were slick with sweat, tired but alert. Shadow disappeared somewhere into the tall grass, silent as breath. He always did that. Kept his distance until he decided you were worth watching again.

Shi Yaozu crouched near the fire pit before I even reached for flint. His hands moved without thought—tinder arranged with quiet precision, dry brush set just right to keep the flame low. I sat on the opposite side, dropping my satchel without ceremony and pulling out the salted rice cake and ginger I’d stuffed there hours ago.

He didn’t ask if we had enough food. He just glanced toward where Shadow had vanished.

"You want him to hunt?"

I nodded. "Rabbit or two. That’ll hold us till dawn."

Yaozu let out a short, sharp whistle—the kind you used to call a hunting dog.

Shadow reappeared five minutes later with two rabbits already hanging limp from his jaws. "He doesn’t need much instruction when it comes to food," I smiled softly as I took the rabbits from him. "He’s pretty much psychic when it comes to food."

I pulled a knife and skinned them beside the fire while Yaozu stacked stones to brace the spits. The silence wasn’t heavy. It was just... easy. A stillness that came when two people knew exactly what they were doing and didn’t need to fill the space between.

The firelight played across his face, casting his jaw in sharp angles. There was blood under one fingernail and a faint red line across his knuckles from where he’d caught a blade earlier and let the wound close without thinking. He didn’t wince. He didn’t twitch. That kind of pain didn’t even register anymore.

"You’ve fought bandits before," I said. It wasn’t a question so much as a statement.

Yaozu didn’t look up from the fire as he needed. "Many, many times," he said. "I thought once I became the Commander of the Shadow Guard, I wouldn’t have to fight them anymore. Leave that work to someone else."

"Someone like me?" I chuckled. "Where did you fight yours?"

"Eastern front. Border skirmish with the nomads. The bandit leader managed to take out thirty of ours before I got close enough to snap his spine."

I met his gaze across the flames.

"What did it feel like?" I asked. "When you snapped his spine?"

"Familiar."

That made me smile.

We ate in silence after that, grease coating our fingers, smoke curling into our hair. I licked a burn off the side of my thumb and tossed a gnawed bone into the dark.

Yaozu leaned back on one arm, eyes on the dying fire.

"You never asked how I became a Shadow Guard," he said.

I didn’t answer right away. I shifted my weight, brushing ash from my lap.

"That’s because I assumed that you were born into it," I said eventually. "Like all the rest of them."

His lip twitched. "No. Not me."

That earned my attention.

He picked up a stone, rolled it once between his fingers, then tossed it into the fire.

"I was five," he said. "A street rat in the outer city. Pickpocket. Good with a blade. Better with silence."

"And?"

"And one day, I tried to rob a noble in the rain. Didn’t realize the man wasn’t alone. One of the Shadow Commanders had been tracking him. I slipped my knife into the man’s belt pouch... and the Commander slit his throat before I could blink."

He paused.

"I was standing in a pool of blood, holding the purse. He looked at me. Told me I had two choices. Run. Or follow."

"You followed."

"Of course," he said. "I was starving."

His voice wasn’t bitter. Just matter-of-fact.

"They didn’t expect me to last a week. I broke the nose of the boy who tried to steal my boots on the first night. Broke his ribs two days later when he tried again. After that, they left me alone."

I studied him in the dim firelight.

"Most wouldn’t have made it. Most would have folded," I said softly, impressed that he managed to withstand so much at such a young age.

"I don’t break," he said softly. "I burn through."

The fire snapped, sending up a sharp spark.

I pulled out the coil of wire from my pack and stood slowly. "I’m setting traps around the ridge. Might sleep better if I know something will scream before it kills us."

"I’ll watch your back," he said simply, rising as well.

We walked into the brush together—me tying lines low across animal trails, he circling ahead without a word, checking for signs of movement. A boot print here. A bent stalk of grass there. Together, we wove a perimeter of soft danger, the kind that whispered instead of screamed.

At one point, I crouched near a half-buried root and pulled a thin bell from a pouch at my hip. A simple glass bead. I tied it gently between two branches with silver thread and tested the pull with my fingertip. Just enough tension. The slightest brush would make it sing.

"Cute," Yaozu said quietly.

"Efficient," I replied. "And not lethal. These traps are for warning, not war."

He nodded once and moved on, checking the far side of the rise.

Shadow circled with us, eyes flashing now and then in the moonlight. He didn’t follow. He patrolled. As if this camp was his domain and we were just visitors granted entry for the night.

We finished the circuit in less than an hour and returned to the dying fire. I tossed a few dry branches on it, just enough to give the coals something to chew.

Yaozu sat again with his arms crossed loosely over one knee. "You ever think about leaving it all behind?"

"You are going to have to be a bit more specific," I chuckled, shaking my head.

"All of it."

I stared into the flames. "Sometimes. But the trouble is, I know too much. About people. About how the world works. It’s not a place that lets you stay out of the fight, and it doesn’t matter if you are on the front lines or locked in a harem... there is always a war to be fought."

He didn’t answer right away.

Then: "I suppose there is. I just didn’t look at the harem as a battlefield."

I pulled my blanket around my shoulders and shifted to sit with my back against a stone. "You should. Military commanders would be more effective at war if they studied their harem. No one is more bloodthirsty than a woman who isn’t satisfied. Anyway, you should sleep. We’ve got another long day tomorrow."

He raised an eyebrow faintly. "And you?"

"I’ll rest in an hour. Maybe."

"You don’t sleep much, do you?"

"No. Never have."

"Why?"

I didn’t look at him when I answered. "Habit. And I like knowing I’ll be awake when the world goes to pot."

He accepted that without pushing.

We sat together a while longer. Not speaking. Just breathing in the scent of ash and meat and burned grass.

And when the wind changed—just slightly—I didn’t say anything about it.

I just noted the direction.

And closed my eyes for a moment, not to sleep, but to wait.