Chapter 57: Hunting Time [2]
Julies Evans’ POV
Honestly, I had no idea she could shoot a bow that well.
All I knew of Alice was her appearance from the game—cool, sharp-tongued, elegant in that noble-born kind of way.
Archery? Never even crossed my mind. She didn’t use a bow in the mid-boss battle, not once. I don’t think I even saw a bow near her character model.
And yet here she was, casually nailing birds out of the sky like it was nothing.
’So she’s good with a bow too, huh...’
Being proficient with multiple weapons meant versatility—something that could completely shift how dungeon conquests played out. That kind of adaptability was priceless.
On the way back from collecting the birds she had brought down—each of them clean kills, not a single feather out of place—I decided to test the waters.
"Lady Alice," I said, trying to keep it light, "how about we hunt a little further in that direction?"
She shot me a quick glance, suspicious already. Classic.
Originally, I never planned on dragging her along for hunting, let alone dungeon exploration.
In the game, Alice never struck me as someone with long-range potential. That made her a liability in certain areas. And me? Well, let’s not kid ourselves—I couldn’t hit a stationary rock if it stood ten feet away.
But now?
The clean punctures in the birds’ tiny heads and hearts told me enough. She wasn’t just competent. She was trained.
Alice’s expression darkened the moment she registered the direction I’d pointed.
"That area’s close to Valstein territory," she said, her voice flat.
"Oh? Is that a problem?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager.
"It’s not... exactly a problem," she replied after a pause. Her brows knit together slightly, like she was chewing on a bitter memory. "I just... don’t like going near that place."
There was a tension in her face that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
I tilted my head, choosing my words carefully.
"Do we really have to go that far in?" she asked, clearly reluctant.
"I’ve heard snow rabbits are common in that area," I said, as if it had just occurred to me. "And rabbit feet are considered lucky, right? I thought it’d be a nice gift for my father. He could use some luck."
That made her pause.
"A gift for your father," she echoed, her voice softer than before.
Then, to my surprise, she nodded.
"...Alright."
I blinked.
She didn’t say anything else after that. Just kept walking, birds in hand, eyes forward. But I didn’t miss the way her fingers gripped a little tighter around the feathers.
Something was bothering her.
And for once, I decided not to press.
---
We didn’t talk much on the way.
The forest was quiet—just the crunch of leaves beneath our boots and the occasional rustle of a branch overhead.
Alice moved with quiet precision, her back straight, her eyes alert. Every step she took felt deliberate, like even out here, she couldn’t afford to be careless.
I walked a little behind, letting the silence settle.
It wasn’t awkward, though. At least, not for me.
Something about the way she carried herself, even while clearly bothered, made it easier to match her pace.
She finally broke the silence.
"...You said it’s a gift for your father."
"Yeah," I replied, keeping my voice low, "he’s not doing great health-wise. Thought I’d do something that might cheer him up."
Alice didn’t respond right away.
"...Is he someone important?"
"In the grand scheme of things? Probably not," I said, with a faint smile. "Just my father. But to me, that’s important enough."
She didn’t say anything, but I caught the way her gaze flickered toward me—curious, maybe. Or skeptical. Hard to tell with her.
A few more minutes passed before she finally stopped.
"We’ll be crossing into Valstein territory soon," she said quietly. "Technically it’s unmarked, but... I know where the line is."
I stepped up beside her. "We don’t have to go too far in. Just enough to spot some tracks. If we don’t find anything, we’ll turn back."
Alice stared ahead for a moment. Then nodded.
"Fine. But if you so much as get caught in a snare, I’m not carrying you back."
"Duly noted," I said, raising my hands in surrender. "I’d never make you do that. I have my pride."
She gave me a sidelong glance. "Since when?"
Okay. Fair.
We moved ahead together. The trees grew denser, the light dimming slightly under the thicker canopy. A chill hung in the air, not enough to freeze, but enough to bite the tips of my ears.
We found the first set of rabbit tracks about ten minutes in.
Alice crouched low, studying them carefully. "Fresh," she murmured. "Maybe fifteen minutes old."
"How do you know that?" I asked, genuinely curious.
She pointed to the edges of the paw prints. "The snow around the edges hasn’t melted in. Still crisp. And look—no windblown marks yet."
"...That’s kind of impressive."
She looked up at me, deadpan. "It’s just basic tracking."
"Yeah, for you."
Alice rolled her eyes, but I didn’t miss the small twitch at the corner of her lips.
We followed the tracks further into the woods, moving slowly now. I tried to keep my footsteps quiet, but I wasn’t exactly built for stealth. She signaled a stop and held out a hand.
"There," she whispered. "Behind that log."
I leaned slightly and spotted it—a snow rabbit, ears twitching, nibbling on a root.
Without hesitation, Alice raised her bow.
Then... she paused.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
I frowned. "What’s wrong?"
She didn’t answer.
For a moment, her expression shifted—something like hesitation, or conflict. The bow in her hands remained drawn, but she didn’t let the arrow fly.
"...It’s nothing." She released the tension slowly and lowered the bow. "I missed my window."
I could’ve sworn she had it perfectly lined up.
But I didn’t press.
We stood in silence, the rabbit hopping away, completely unaware of how close it came to death.
"Let’s go further in, that rabbit must not be gone too long."
Alice said as she started to walking ahead. I didn’t say anything and just followed her.
And that’s okay with me.
My real goal wasn’t even snow rabbit anyway.
It was doungen that was hidden in the direction that we are moving.