“Mom, do I have to hunt alone? I thought Lillian and Eliana would come to.” A boy, barely of age; his low masculine voice pitched into a whine as he tried to plead with his mother. His mother barely looked at him as she dipped the cloth she held in her hands into the small basin resting at her feet, wrung out the water and placed it back on one of the twins’ forehead.

“No, Lillian and Eliana cannot go with you. They caught that blasted cold that’s been hanging around the village children. They’re too sick and need a good hearty soup. I need those rabbits.” She finally swung her face towards her son and smiled wearily at him. Her once smooth skin was wrinkled and looked faded. Worry lines creased her forehead and her eyes that once shone like a pair of unblemished sapphires; were dull. Her hair was falling from her neat bun and she finally looked her age. Old, tired and worried for her children; the Lady Hélène wore her fears and the truth of those fears openly on her face for her son to see.

His sisters, the twins who were so much like their mother; were dying. One could not survive without the other and should one perish the other will not be left behind. It was a spell they had created when they had learned how to talk. Lady Hélène could do nothing for her daughters because she was the one who had made the spell binding which effectively tied her hands. She had tried every cure for them to rid the sickness but it refused to budge and every day the twins got sicker. She gave her son instructions to leave under the pretense of hunting and sadly allowed him to open the chest that he had been so curious about since he could walk. Within the chest was her husband’s old hunting weapons but he had been a different sort of hunter. A hunter of men and a savior of rare beasts and Lady Hélène only hoped that her fatherless child could be half the man she had loved and married. Lady Hélène turned back to the twins without a word. The boy said nothing more as he packed. His sack was filled for at least a week or more if he rationed carefully before he had to truly live up to his reason of leaving. He gazed into the chest and a part of him wished that it had never been opened for it had still been closed; his sisters would be happy and healthy. His heart heavy, he reached into the chest and pulled out various weapons with their sheaths.

Daggers of small sizes to be hidden within the bulk of his clothes, a medium sized ivory tipped spear that had a comforting weight in his small hands, and then he pulled out two swords as well as a bow. Each sword was unique and did not have an equal size. One was short, broad and had a plain hilt with faded brown leather wrapped around the grip. The other was more elaborate, finely crafted and still sharp despite being left in the chest for so long. The longer blade was slightly curved at the tip and the metal glowed; as though it wasn’t steel. Etchings of vines travelled gracefully along the blade while the guard was carefully created into the image of a young buck’s antlers. The hilt itself was plain but black leather gleamed as if freshly washed and curled around the grip. He strapped the smaller short sword to his hip and tucked the scimitar in his already overfilled pack. He grabbed the bow and the owl-fletched arrows and headed out the door. As he held the door open; he hesitated.

“Mother,” He called out softly into the eerie silence. “I’ll come back.” He never turned around as he spoke those soft words and he left the house he once called home. He never heard the whispered words of his mother as she watched his disappearing back. He began his journey, one that he never wanted to go on or even begin; alone.

~♥~

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It was a quiet morning as the forest began to awaken with the first rays of the soft dawn light. Aeron yawned widely as he stretched out his cramped muscles while glancing towards the rising sun and scanning the horizon. Watch duty was boring for the last watch but Aeron didn’t mind it. He enjoyed watching the sky slowly change colors with the morning sun.

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The last watch also came as a double duty though as he slyly watched the heaps of bodies lying unconscious beneath the tree he had been perched in. As nimbly as a squirrel he clambered out of the tree and made his way to the cook’s tent and took a washed pot and a spoon from his wares. As he held the utensils in his hands a wicked smile spread across his face before he began clanging the pot with the spoon.

The chaos that erupted from the camp was beautiful to him. Shouts of startled hunters rose to an almost unbearable pitch as the men began fighting with each other. The cook came charging out of his tent like an angry bull, his face beat red and his breathes coming out in puffs. Aeron couldn’t hold it back anymore as he doubled over, laughing.

“Aeron, you’ve got some nerve! I know you’re new to the company but really, banging pots around is liable to scare someone.” The voice startled Aeron into a state of calm as he realized the voice was new and had come from behind him.

He spun to face the source and found himself staring at an unknown woman glaring at him sternly. Her brown hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail and her eyes glinted like a pair of silver pools. Silence had settled quickly over the camp and he glanced around to see every hunter kneeling on the ground with their hands on their hearts and heads bowed low to the woman. He heard her sigh before stiffly striding past him and raising her voice to a half shout.

“No need for formalities. Rise and give me your report, Gavin.” She snapped and guided herself towards the largest hunter. Gruff and ruthless, Gavin had the scariest reputation that one could acquire. He had been a hunter for as long as anyone could remember.

He was the current leader that allowed Aeron to join the company after he had rescued a rare beast from the cages that the Forsaken used. Gavin was large but not fat, his muscles bulged with every movement and though he could crush a skull with his bare hands; he was actually extremely cautious around his comrades. Spiky black hair was cropped on top of his head which gave his face more of a square look; he had hazel eyes that felt like they could see right through any lie. His preferred weapon was a halberd that he swung around like a toy. The thing had a cruel curve to its blade and a small sharpened point on the top that allowed Gavin to reach even the quickest of opponents. He towered over the woman but he knelt beside her as to look her in the eyes rather than make her look up.

“Aeron!” bellowed a voice which made him wince at the loudness of it. “Boy don’t ye dare make me look for ye! Bring me back my pot!” Aeron rolled his eyes before sheepishly taking back the stolen pot and spoon to the cook. As he entered the tent; he was immediately smacked on the back of his head. Rubbing the back of his head, Aeron frowned at the old cook.

“What was that for, you old coot?”

The cook closed one eye and pointed a pudgy finger in Aeron’s face as he spat at the ground.

“Don’t ye be givin’ me any neve’mind. What am I to cook with when ye be dragging my pots n pans about like they were shiny new toys!?” Aeron wasn’t given a chance to answer the question as a hand grabbed his upper arm and pulled him from the tent.

“Cook, the men are hungry. I’ll deal with this one.” The hard edged yet soft voice had an immediate effect on the old cook as he attempted a salute while still holding his pot. Clumsily he began clattering around in his tent; the smell of food beginning to float around him. Aeron allowed himself to be dragged for a few minutes longer before wrenching his arm away from the person who held onto him like an unwanted leech.

He could only assume the new woman was the one who had apprehended him from the cook and as he turned to face the person, he found her staring at him. Her silver eyes watching his every move as if he fascinated her or as if he was nothing more than a mouse beneath the gaze of a hunter.

“Look, I don’t know who you are but I don’t plan on giving you any respect just because the others seem to worship you like some queen.” Aeron blurted out as he brushed off his clothes.

“Are you the son of the late Lady Hélène?” Was all she replied to his outburst, as she crossed her arms and puckered her lips as though what she said made a sour taste in her mouth. He frowned slightly as he tried to control his emotions tightly. He knew that she had tied her life force to the twins when he left that day but he had hoped they had survived miraculously; that he could really go back to them. He only nodded in response and she clucked her tongue in disapproval.