The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

Collette was a big woman—at least she seemed that way back then—so the suit is a little loose on me, but just barely. My mom would say I’ll grow into it. I find a pair of white winter boots, wrap a white t-shirt around my lower face and pull the hood up over my red hair. Standing on the white surface of Antarctica, only my sunglasses will show, and if I need to be invisible, I can take them off.

The new gear lifts my spirits. I will be hard to find now as the surface winds carry away my scent and the snowsuit keeps me invisible. I turn to leave, but spot a pen on the desk. I pick it up, click it a few times, and smile.

I return to Mira’s room and open the note.

I check off, ‘? Yes.’





17



After collecting a few more items, a Zippo lighter, some white gloves, a whetstone and—ahem—a comb, I stand beneath the hole in the ceiling and look up. The blue sky greets me. Its brightness makes me feel alive, despite the pain it causes my sunglasses covered eyes. I’m wearing the white snowsuit and boots. A tiny sliver of my forehead is my only exposed skin. Otherwise I look like some kind of modern abominable snowman. Well, except for the fact that I’m wearing my belt, and Whipsnap, on top of the suit. If I need additional stealth, I can fit them inside the suit.

The exit is twenty feet above me. I didn’t get a good look at it before, but I can see now that the hole was punched in from above. I’m not the first person here. Which means I really need to go.

I leap up, hands outstretched and create a burst of wind that carries me up, but isn’t nearly enough to exhaust me. I grasp the edge of the hole with my gloved hands and slip a little. But I dig down tight and hoist myself up. Eighth grade gym class enters my mind. I had already skipped a few grades, but my ten-year-old age didn’t deter Mrs. Edelstein. I was in eighth grade so they would test my physical prowess against the other eighth grade boys. Joey Dimarco did thirty chin ups. I couldn’t manage one. Even Mrs. Edelstein couldn’t hold back a laugh. How things have changed.

I yank myself up with little effort, bounding from the hole and landing on the metal roof. “Eat your heart out, Joey Dimarco.”

I stare out at the view before me. A sliver of ocean cuts across the horizon. I consider heading to the water. Food would be plentiful. Lots of places to hide, especially since I could swim in the ocean and not freeze. But I think about the killer whales and leopard seals. I don’t think either species are traditionally man-eaters, but you never know when one will decide to try something new. Then again, maybe—

The wind shifts.

I smell someone behind me.

Someone new.

I spin around while silently cursing myself for not scanning the area before coming out of the hole. Just because I’m not underground doesn’t mean I shouldn’t live by the same rules!

The mountains behind me come into view. The man standing in front of them is so well camouflaged in white that I almost looked right past him. When I do see him, there isn’t even a single moment I consider whether this is friend or foe, because he’s got an arrow nocked in a bow, pointed directly at my head. Even still, I might normally try to talk someone out of this situation, but he’s already released his grip and sent the arrow flying toward my head.

Before I can even think it, a strong burst of wind shoots up and knocks the arrow off course. I’ve faced this challenge before when I fought Ull and his giant arrows. My body—including the whole of Antarctica—is reacting on instinct.

Snow bursts up between me and the hunter, concealing my actions for a moment. But I don’t move. Ull would have pressed the attack, taken advantage of the snowy distraction. He’s a predator. I prefer to think before I act, and sometimes that includes speaking. I know his arrows can’t reach me, so I take Xin’s advice and try to make friends.

“You don’t have to fight,” I say.

A second arrow shoots my way and passes over my head.

I never was good at making friends.

The man, like me, is covered in white fabric from head to toe. But he’s not wearing sunglasses. His eyes blaze blue between the hood and mask covering his lower face. The sun doesn’t bother him at all. How long has he been topside?

A third arrow is quickly nocked and fired, but I notice he’s no longer aiming at my face. He’s aiming at my knees! In a flash I realize he’s compensating for the vertical wind pushing his arrows above me. The second shot was much closer than the first, and this one might actually strike me!

The bow twangs loudly as he lets the arrow fly.

I shift to my right and throw my hands to the left, physically directing which way the wind should blow. The arrow is just inches from my face when the horizontal wind strikes it. I feel a tug on my hood as it passes.

Now the hunter is confused, circling me slowly.

I stand my ground and say, “What is your name?”

“You know my name,” he replies, his voice tinged with a German accent.

“Actually,” I say, raising an index finger like some college professor postulating a point.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Someone is running through the snow behind me. The hunter has not come alone!

I grasp Whipsnap and pull. The weapon snaps open in my hand and I turn to face my attacker.