Dahlia
"Well? Any sign of him?" I asked, arms crossed, as The Hunter came back to camp empty-handed for the third day in a row.
"Does it look like it?" he said rhetorically.
"Did you go into the center this time?"
"No."
"Why not?!" I yelled, stomping my foot.
"Because I don't have a death wish!" he snapped.
It's been like this every time. Every time he comes back empty-handed. He gives me the cold shoulder and spends his time tending to the fire, cooking us dinner. He eventually saunters off to, I don't care where, and usually, by the middle of the night, I'm visited by the brown wolf. The Hunter has no clue. I wonder if he knows how unprotected his camp really is, though he claims I am 'safe enough' here. Whatever that means.
"We are wasting time! He could be in trouble, we
