Borne of Soul’s Blood

One Month Later

The bell above the bakery door chimed, the same cheerful jingle cutting through the early morning quiet of Sweet Haven. Clara glanced up from her workbench, where she was piping delicate swirls of frosting onto a batch of cupcakes.

"Kid! Front counter!" she called over her shoulder, her voice sharp but not unkind.

There was the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs, and moments later, the kid appeared behind the counter, an apron already tied neatly around their waist. Their once-blank expression had softened over the past month, but their peculiar, quiet intensity remained. They moved with purpose, wiping down the counter and arranging the display case with the precision of someone much older.

Clara shook her head in grudging admiration as she set the cupcakes onto a tray. "How do you beat me down here every morning? Do you sleep at all?"

"Not much," the kid admitted, their voice calm and steady as ever.

Clara snorted, handing them the tray. "Figures. Alright, these go in the front case. And keep an eye on the register; morning rush is gonna hit any minute now."

"Yes, ma'am," they said, already moving to complete the task.

Over the past month, the kid had proven to be as hardworking as they'd claimed. They showed up on time, worked quietly but efficiently, and never complained—not about the long hours, the heavy lifting, or the occasionally rude customers. Clara had even caught herself relying on them more than she intended, though she'd never admit it out loud.

Still, there was something about them that didn't quite sit right. They were too self-contained, too polite, like they were trying not to draw too much attention. And those eyes—light brown with that strange golden tint—were like a smoldering campfire: warm, but with a flicker of something ancient and unknowable beneath the surface.

Clara watched as they finished setting up the display, every motion deliberate and precise. When they turned back to her, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. "Alright, kid. Let's see if you can handle the rush today without me hovering over your shoulder. Think you can manage?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said again, their tone as steady as ever.

"Good." Clara wiped her hands on her apron and crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. "Because if you can't, I'm docking your pay."

The kid nodded, turning back to the display case just as the bell chimed again, signaling the arrival of the first customer of the day.

As Clara watched them greet the customer with quiet politeness, she felt that strange mix of unease and protectiveness bubble up again. Whoever—or whatever—this kid was, she had the distinct feeling that their story was far from over.

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"Why must we, the grand inheritors of might and majesty, bow and scrape before these wretched, lowly creatures?" hummed a transparent apparition.

"Information, Rick," quickly replied the Hunter, speaking in a hushed tone to not draw attention.

The Hunters response didn't seem to be what the apparition wanted, as all they got was an annoyed grumble.

The Hunter ignored him, continuing to stock the display with cupcakes and other sweets, being careful as to not drop any. It was a tedious job —like all jobs before it— but the Hunter couldn't lie, this was a lot better than stabbing massive pigs and getting stomped on by fire giants. It didn't increase his madness nor did it feed their blood lust. This job would be perfect, if it weren't for the beasts outside that were constantly driving him mad.

The beasts of this realm are different, unlike anything he had faced in Yarnham or the Lands Between. These beasts were smarter. While not as strong as the beasts he'd slayed in the past, and still animalistic in the sense, what was different was that many could think for themselves.

These beasts weren't savage outer gods or Demi-Gods with Godly mommy and daddy issues —okay some were— but the closest thing he could think of when fighting those things was the beast possessed soul they'd found in the Healing Church Workshop, except they could turn into humans.

It doesn't help that they can smell the Hunter. They had scrubbed every last drop of blood off them and yet these, wolf people, have still been able to find them. Killing them won't help either, hiding a body is one of the few things the Hunter hasn't learned ... and the Doll is too enthusiastic when trying to teach him.

The Hunter was quickly pulled from his thoughts as Clara shouted to them from the back.

"Kid! Customer's!"

The morning rush came with its usual chaos: a flurry of footsteps, muffled voices, and the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked goods. Clara peeked through the kitchen door, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of three people stepping into Sweet Haven.

At first glance, they looked like any other customers. Two men and a woman, all dressed in patched coats and tattered scarves, with the worn, weathered look of people who'd spent too many nights under the stars. But there was something off about them—something that set Clara's teeth on edge and made the Hunter's hand twitch, aching for the comforting weight of his old trick weapon.

The tallest of the three, a large man with sharp features and an almost predatory air, strode to the counter, his hulking frame making the quaint bakery feel suddenly claustrophobic. His hair was streaked with gray, his red-tinged eyes gleamed, and his lips curved into a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

The Hunter set down the tray of cupcakes, their movements deliberate. These creatures weren't customers— they were wolves masquerading as men, and worse, they were organized. Clara didn't know this though, she thought of them as a gang of homeless people who got too Omegaverse — whatever that is.

"Clara," the Man drawled, leaning against the counter. His voice was smooth but laced with menace. "Got any of that coffee cake today? My boys and I could use a little... pick-me-up."

Clara stepped out from the kitchen, her face a practiced mask of calm. "Sure, Kurt," she said evenly. "I'll get it for you." She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the Hunter. "Kid, keep an eye on things."

The Hunter gave a slight nod, their eyes never leaving Kurt and his companions. The leader's gaze was fixed on them, his smirk widening.

"So," Kurt said, his tone mock-casual. "You're new around here, huh? Got yourself a nice little job, helping Clara keep this place running."

The Hunter met his gaze, unflinching. "Just here to work," they replied evenly, echoing their earlier words.

Kurt chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You smell... interesting. Not quite like the others."

The Hunter said nothing, his gaze steady and unyielding. The apparition at his side—visible only to him—muttered under its breath, "This is folly. Let me deal with them, my good Consort."

The Hunter ignored it.

Clara returned, placing a neatly wrapped coffee cake on the counter. "Here you go," she said briskly. "That'll be fifteen bucks."

Kurt didn't move, his eyes still locked on the Hunter. "You know, Clara," he said, his tone turning almost conversational, "I've been hearing some strange things lately. New folks passing through town. Unnatural things."

Clara's expression tightened. "I don't know anything about that," she said firmly. "Just running my bakery."

"Of course," Kurt said, finally pulling out a crumpled bill and tossing it onto the counter. He grabbed the coffee cake and straightened up, his gaze flicking back to the Hunter. "Be seeing you, kid."

The bell jingled again as the three wolves left, their laughter fading into the distance.

Clara let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Kid," she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't know what you're wrapped up in, but I've got a bad feeling about those guys."

The Hunter said nothing, their gaze lingering on the door.

Because they could feel it, too. The wolves weren't just sniffing around—they were circling, waiting for something.

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DGW: Thank you all for reading. If you have any suggestions about this story feel free to share them with me. Doesn't matter what it is I will think it over. If you'd like a love interest just suggest one, I have two currently suggested.

Tools used: Grammarly Spell Check, Male name generator, and the FANDOM app.

Suggested Love Interest's: Thalia and Reyna

Love Interest's I won't do: Artemis (reason's that will be known in time), Hestia (reason's that will be known in time), and Zeus(reason's that will be known in time)

Word Count: 1468