“BOW TO CHAOS AND YOUR HEAD WILL BE CUT OFF”
ARC 1
IN A GRAND FOREST, SNOW ALL AROUND
“Strike!” In quick succession, unrelenting metallic bolts shot out.
The pointed projectiles reached their targets, the air’s whistles being replaced by wet thuds as the platters of claws on snow faded. Four wolves met their end on the cold ground with pointed, equally cold gazes watching over them, listing them off as nothing more than food.
One remarkable feature among all of the hunters was their hair. All of which were light colored with slight tints or simply pure white. It was quite odd to see such a color on the heads of adults rather than the elderly but then again, that’s only the second most remarkable feature.
If you don't ignore their pointed ears that is.
As the hunters that were delegated to drag along their food walked alongside their comrades, one of them stepped on a branch accidentally. The audible snap echoed through the forest, turning every head that heard it.
The Elven hunter next to the guy elbowed him in the chest, scowling.
The guy in turn apologized hastily. “I didn’t mean it!” He shouts, wincing a bit.
After a few seconds of staring, they eventually continued their journey. The Elf that elbowed him gave him a side-eye for minutes before eventually sighing and looking straight ahead.
“I said I was sorry…” Muttered the guy. The one he was talking to looked at the guy’s hand over his pained rib, before shaking his head and taking the rope that was helping them drag one of the wolves.
“Whatever, it’s not like it was still attached to the tree anyway.” He replied, pulling the rope with one hand. “Can’t believe we’re supposed to hunt and deliver all this.” He says, frowning deep. “Stupid folks, can’t hunt for themselves.” He grumbles.
“Agreed.”
Unbeknownst to the group of hunters, up on one of the trees sat a boy with dark hair. Pupils that seemed to have been cut from the void itself gazed below with interest. Given that the entire forest was made of towering, tall trees with black, shiny trunks yet rough surfaces, it was no wonder that none of them even fathomed a single presence up on the trees.
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Yet, the boy didn’t dare to make a sound. ‘With a pinch of arrogance, I like to think I’m smarter than that.’ He thinks to himself, as he is no ordinary boy.
‘Now, how do I get down?’ He places his arms around the tree trunk, almost like he was hugging it, before leaning to the side. Doing it like this, he could look at the ground better while also being less likely to fall off and die.
He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of crunching snow. Shifting his eyes without turning his head, his gaze locks onto a lone wolf. A grin began to crawl up to his face. Anticipation kickstarted pressure to form in his veins, a certain heat that would boil his blood into a mix of savagery and amusement– Into a boil of bloodlust.
Perhaps sensing something in the air, or an in-built instinct within, the wolf fled the area. Trails of paw-prints on the snow being its only evidence of existence.
The boy was disappointed, but he supposed that he would die if he tried to fight it, realistically.
Getting back to his task of getting down, he looks around a little more before noticing a lump of snow on the ground. Several ideas flashed and gone in his mind, and he got into action immediately, excitement lacing his movements.
The branch he was on was higher up on the tree and he was currently near the trunk but still on the same branch. Slowly and carefully treading the branch, which was as thick as an entire car, nervousness began creeping up as he advanced, finding his path becoming thinner.
The boy steps forward, causing the branch to let out a sound of creaking. His mind and instincts blared as he got ready to hop back, but nothing happened. By now, the branch was as thin as a window.
Calming his nerves, he crunches down and plucks another thin branch attached to the one he’s standing on. With his left arm folded to his chest, he adds another twig onto the overflowing pile near his chest. Some of the twigs poked his torso a bit and his legs were beginning to shake in strain, but he had enough to do what he needed to.
Venturing back, it took a little longer because of the added weight but now he could rest easy and sit down at the base of the branch. The boy looks at his progress manifested in the real world and places a hand on chin. “Hm…”
He picks up a small branch and places a grip over one of the other branches that diverges from the one he was holding. Snapping it off, he did the same for the other ones. His pile of sticks and twigs was now larger and he could begin the next step.
Taking one to his hand, he widened his stance, feet a little farther apart. He threw the stick as though it was a spear, hitting the neighboring tree. The result was several layers of snow falling off from the leaves, creating a mini dust-cloud made of snow on the ground. He repeated this process until he completely ran out of sticks to throw.
Wrapping his arms around the tree trunk and looking down again, he was able to see the snowy ground. There was already snow before but now there were also lumps and piles of snow, one of them even resembling a small hill. It was also pretty near, so that became his target.
There were a few branches below the one he was standing on, but they were much thinner, making it likely for him to just slip and fall off because of the roundish platform. With a deep breath and a set mind, the boy crouched down.
And he leapt.
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