The forest was more than a collection of trees and wildlife—it was a living symphony, humming with the rhythm of nature. Birds' songs echoed through the dense foliage, creating a melody that filled the air. Each rustle of the leaves, stirred by a gentle breeze, added harmony to the symphony, while the distant call of a stag served as a poignant reminder of the raw, untamed beauty of the world. There was a world untouched by man, thriving in a rhythm as old as time itself.

In the heart of this forest lay a small, serene village, nestled in a clearing by a babbling brook. The village, a collection of wooden cottages and farmhouses, was a testament to mankind's ability to coexist with nature. It was here that the hunter Dras had grown up, raised on stories of brave warriors and mythical creatures by the elders. The fields around the village were filled with crops, the result of hard work and a deep understanding of the land.

The villagers lived in harmony with the forest, taking only what they needed and always giving back. They hunted deer and gathered fruits, but they also planted trees and cared for the wildlife. It was a balance, mutual respect between man and nature. The village was Dras's home, a place he knew as well as the back of his hand. He knew every tree, every path, and every stream in the forest.

The people of the village were like family to Dras. He had grown up playing with the other children, learning to hunt with the men, and listening to the wisdom of the elders. His own family was a central part of the community. His father, a strong and silent man, was respected for his wisdom. His mother, with her kind heart and gentle spirit, was loved by all. And his sister Danu, with her laughter and endless curiosity, brought joy to everyone she met.

Life in the village was simple but fulfilling. The people worked together, cared for one another, and shared in the joys and hardships of life. They celebrated the changing of the seasons with festivals, shared stories around bonfires, and helped each other in times of need. Despite the dangers that sometimes came from the forest—wild animals, harsh winters, or scarce food—the village was a sanctuary, a beacon of light in the heart of the forest.

Amid this symphony, a lone figure moved with sure-footed grace. A young hunter, Dras, navigated the familiar terrain with ease, his sharp eyes scanning every detail of his surroundings. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his knife, ready to draw at a moment's notice. He wasn't merely a spectator in this world but an integral part of its symphony. His presence was as natural as the rustling leaves or the chirping birds.

He moved with a purpose, his destination a small clearing where he had spotted a deer earlier. As he neared the clearing, he slowed his pace, his movements becoming even more deliberate. He crouched low, blending into the undergrowth as he carefully approached the unsuspecting deer. His heart pounded in his chest, the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins.

As he prepared to make his move, an unfamiliar scent wafted towards him. It was faint, barely discernible against the earthy smell of the forest, but it quickly grew stronger and more distinct—smoke. His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest, and he abandoned his hunt. Rising to his feet, he scanned the horizon through the dense foliage. A plume of black smoke, stark against the verdant green of the forest, rose high into the sky from the direction of his village. Ice-cold dread washed over Dras. The world as he knew it was under threat.

"No...no, no, no!" Dras muttered to himself, his mind racing. He grabbed his bow and knife and sprinted towards his home, his heart pounding in his chest. "Please, let them be safe," he prayed as he ran, the image of his family flashing in his mind.

As he reached the edge of the forest, he found himself on a hill overlooking his village. The sight that greeted him was one of devastation. His home, his village, was ablaze. His heart sank as he sprinted down the hill, his mind filled with thoughts of his family.

"Mother...Father...Danu," he whispered, his voice choked with fear.

The village was a scene of carnage. Bodies littered the ground, a grim testament to the brutality of the raiders. Dras' heart pounded in his chest as he ran towards his home, praying that his family had managed to escape. But as he neared his home, now nothing more than a raging inferno, he fell to his knees, his eyes stinging with tears.

"No...no...this can't be happening," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames. He felt a cold drop of rain hit his face. He looked up to see dark clouds gathering overhead, and soon, a downpour began. The rain hissed as it hit the burning houses, gradually extinguishing the flames. Smoke billowed into the air, further darkening the already gloomy sky.

Dras sought shelter under a large Oak tree, its thick foliage providing some protection from the rain. He sat there, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He wondered about his mother and sister - had they been taken by the raiders? The thought filled him with dread.

When the rain finally stopped, Dras decided to return to his home to see if he could find any clues. The house was now a smouldering ruin, the roof completely collapsed. He walked through the front door, his heart heavy as he saw the charred remains of his parents. His father's sword was still clutched in his hand, a clear sign that he had tried to protect his mother. But there was no sign of his sister.

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A glint of metal caught his eye from a corner of the room. He walked over to find a part of the floorboards that had been burnt away, revealing a bundle of cloth. He pulled the cloth away to reveal a breastplate. As he opened the rest of the bundle, he found a full set of armour. He was puzzled - his father had never mentioned being a warrior or serving in the army.

Despite the armour being slightly too big for him, Dras decided to take it with him. He tightened the straps of the breastplate as much as he could to keep it secure. As the rain started to fall again, he took shelter under the fallen roof of his home, lost in thought. He wondered why this had happened and where his sister could be.

The next day, Dras left the ruins of his village behind. He decided to head east, towards the forest that overlooked the village. He knew that the nearest settlement, New Haven, was far away, but it was his best chance of survival. He planned to join the Legion, a group renowned for their strength and courage. And then, he would find his sister, Danu, and exact his revenge.

As he entered the forest, he found the deer he had been skinning the day before. He cut off a few sizable pieces of meat and stored them in his bag before continuing his journey. The scent of blood still clung to the venison, despite his efforts to drain it. The forest grew quieter as he ventured deeper, the usual sounds of wildlife replaced by an eerie silence.

He was about a league away from his usual hunting spot when he heard a distant howl. Dras froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked around, trying to spot the source of the sound. He slowly drew his bow, knowing he would likely only have one shot at the wolf.

He had barely moved fifty paces when he heard another howl, this one coming from behind him. Panic surged through him as he realised he was being surrounded. He scanned the trees, looking for a way to climb up and out of reach, but the old oak trees were too large to scale. He would have to face the wolves head-on.

He spotted the first wolf about a hundred paces away. It was a large creature, standing about five feet high with a coat of grey and white fur. It was still for a moment, just watching him. Dras looked around for the second wolf, but when he turned back, the first wolf had disappeared. He cursed under his breath and slowly made his way towards a large stream nearby.

He figured that if he kept the stream to his back, he would have a better chance of seeing the wolves approach. He pulled back his bowstring, ready to shoot at the first sight of a wolf. Suddenly, he heard a noise to his left. The second wolf was charging at him. Dras dropped to one knee and let his arrow fly.

The arrow found its mark, piercing the wolf's chest. The impact knocked Dras back, and he barely had time to draw his hunting knife before the first wolf was upon him. He sidestepped the leaping wolf, slashing at its side. The cut wasn't deep enough to be fatal, but it was enough to slow the wolf down.

Dras knew he was in a dangerous situation. The wolf was growling fiercely, its teeth bared as it circled him. He reversed his grip on his hunting knife, preparing to stab the wolf in the leg and make a run for it.

As the wolf lunged at him, Dras sidestepped and stabbed his knife into its hind leg. He then turned and ran, leaving his knife embedded in the wolf's leg. He sprinted through the forest, vaulting over fallen trees and leaping over streams. After running for what felt like an eternity, he glanced back to see the wolf still where he had left it, unable to pursue him with the knife in its leg.

Dras notched another arrow into his bow and let it fly, hitting his target and killing the first wolf. He collapsed to the ground, his body shaking from the adrenaline and relief. He was a skilled hunter, but he had never had to face two fully grown wolves before.

After catching his breath, Dras stood up and walked back to retrieve his arrows and hunting knife. He felt a pang of guilt for killing the wolves - he had always admired the creatures - but he knew it was either them or him.

With the day's excitement behind him, Dras continued his journey east, hoping for a quieter rest of the day. As he walked, he couldn't help but replay the events of the past few days in his mind. His village was destroyed, his family gone, and now he was alone in the forest, with only his father's armour and his own survival skills to rely on.

"I'll find you, Danu," he whispered to the wind, his voice filled with determination. "I promise."

As the sun began to set, Dras found a small clearing in the forest to set up camp. He gathered some dry wood and started a fire, the warm glow providing some comfort in the cold night. He sat by the fire, his father's armour next to him, and stared into the flames.

He thought about his father, a man he had always seen as a simple farmer. But the armour told a different story. His father had been a warrior, a fact he had kept hidden from his family. Dras wondered why his father had chosen to hide this part of his life. Was it to protect them? Or was it because he was running from something?

As he sat there, lost in thought, Dras felt a strange sense of calm. Despite the tragedy that had befallen him, he felt a sense of purpose. He would find his sister and avenge his family. He would survive, not just for himself, but for his family as well.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Dras put on his father's armour. It was a little big for him, but he managed to adjust the straps to make it fit. He looked at his reflection in the blade of his father's sword, seeing a young man hardened by the harsh realities of life.

"I am Dras, son of a warrior," he said to his reflection. "And I will survive."

With that, Dras picked up his bow and quiver and ventured deeper into the forest, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The forest was no longer a place of fear, but a place of survival. And survive, he would.