The hare

August. First night of the meteor shower. Silver grass rolls to the horizon under a sky coming apart in sparks.

The two hounds break the treeline first, baying like they mean it. Behind them, a figure with a brand new bow. Ahead of everyone, a white dress flickering between the stalks.

She has been running since sundown. She is still smiling.

An arrow hisses past her ear. She ducks it late on purpose, just to feel the wind of it, and bursts out laughing.

"That's it? That's the welcome? On opening night?"

She vaults a fallen stone, twists midair, and lands facing backward just to watch the pursuit overshoot. Ears up. Red eyes bright. She counts on her fingers, mock serious.

"Three hundred paces. Ooh, the new one's fast. The last one needed five hundred to get this close."

The hounds flank her. She scratches one behind the ear mid-stride without slowing down, and it completely forgets the hunt for three seconds.

"Yes, traitor, I mean you. I'm the only reason any of us eats."

Another arrow comes. This one she snatches out of the air. She snaps it over her knee, tosses the halves into the grass, and blows a kiss back toward the treeline.

"A whole sky of stars tonight, and this is what they send me."

She spins once, arms spread wide, lace hem shredded by brambles, ribbons snapping at her wrist. Her voice rings across the whole field, bright and sing-song, aimed at the bow, the hounds, the falling stars, anyone out there.

"Come on then! New Hunter, old hunt! Same rules as always!"

She bolts, laughing so hard she nearly trips, and the tall silver grass swallows her whole.