“Keep up, boy! Day’s a-wastin’,” Father grumbled sternly as I hurried to catch up to him after tripping yet again over a large tree root and falling hard on my face. I don't know how many times I had tripped today, having lost count long ago. 

In spite of my aches and painful blisters forming on both of my feet, it was actually a beautiful autumn day in the foothills of the Greenback mountains. The trees were just starting to turn to their beautiful fall colors of yellows, oranges, and just a hint of red. The birds were singing in the trees, with many chirps, squawks and whistles, warning each other of the intruders to their forest haven, most likely. Or, maybe they were just happy.

We had been walking for hours, and I was getting extremely fatigued and hungry. My father had an affinity for Body Forging, making him extremely quick and strong, perfect for his occupation as a hunter. We had never lacked for food, though our homestead wasn’t much compared to the older homes in town. Hunters were appreciated but didn’t make much money. Mostly he traded and bartered for our family needs.

I wanted to be able to provide for my family in the future, just like him, so I had begged him to let me come with him on this hunt, which was my first. But I was seriously regretting that decision for the umteenth time today. His example taught me the importance of being the provider and protector for the family. “You’ll grow up big and strong, just like me,” he would always say, when I was younger. But I hadn’t heard that for several years now. I wasn’t big and strong like him, even though I was only a few years away from adulthood. Mom said I took more after her side of the family.

I had two younger siblings, twins, a boy, Fin, and a girl, Lil. Actually, Finneren and Lilleren, but we never called them by their full name. Well, mom sometimes used our full name when one of us was in trouble and needed disciplining. Thankfully, that didn’t happen often. I loved them as much as my parents did. When they were little, I was their big protector. I had no problem watching over them when dad was gone and mom had to run an errand. Mom was never gone long, but she knew I would take good care of them and not let either of them get hurt.

Father held up his fist and stopped, making me stop as well. He pointed through the trees, but I didn’t see anything at first. Eventually, after squinting a bunch and moving my head, I saw a little bit of the brown fur of a deer.

“Get your bow ready, and nock an arrow,” he said. His voice was quiet and calm.

We each had a bow, since I couldn’t hope to pull his much larger one, but he carried our quiver of arrows. When I had my bow ready he handed me an arrow. I carefully placed it on the string and sighted along the arrow, looking for the deer, but I couldn’t see it anymore.

“Now, move forward very slowly. Be silent, so mind where you place each foot. Wait for a clear shot.”

I had practiced shooting at targets before, but never anything live. This would be my first. I moved very slowly and got to a spot where I could see the deer. Then I pulled the string back, took aim, and released. I don’t know what happened exactly, but the arrow just fell on the ground only a couple strides away.

Looking back up, the deer had moved, I saw more of them and they were all very alert. Luckily, they had not moved far.

“It happens to all of us”, he whispered, but his face showed more disappointment than his voice. Holding another arrow out to me, he said “Don’t move yet. Be patient. When they go back to eating, you can try once more.”

Nocking the second arrow, I waited. Eventually, some of them put their heads down and started grazing on the wild grass and dandelions. So I again moved until I had a better shot lined up. This time I was not going to let the arrow fall short, so I pulled much farther back to my full extension. When I released, the arrow shot out with great force, however I felt the bow buck in my hands. I knew that meant it was a wild shot. The arrow whizzed over the deer I was aiming for and hit a granite boulder, with a loud thwack sound, and I saw a spark where the tip hit stone.

The deer all scattered then bounded out of the field as a group and disappeared.

“Jerik! Those were expensive points.” He was angry now. “I can’t have you ruining all of my arrows.” Then he breathed deeply and shook his head. “Do you know what you did wrong?”

“I let my grip loosen too much.” I held my head in shame, not daring to look at him, as he walked to pick up the two arrows I shot.

“Right. You have to pay attention to both of your hands as well as the target. Now, come on, there is still a little light left. We will head over this knoll and look for more prey. If we don’t find anything, we’ll have to try again another day.”

We continued walking until we had gone up and over the tall hill. At the top he looked around for a while. Making a decision which he didn’t share with me, he headed down the other side and back into the forest. But it wasn’t long before he held up his fist for us to stop again. This time when he pointed I could see the sparse black fur of a boar. It looked like it was searching and digging for something under a bush.

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Getting ready for my next shot seemed easier than with the deer, there being less in the way, and I was closer. So I drew back the string, paused and released, remembering to hold tight to the grip. The arrow zinged but somehow still missed, though only by an inch. It glanced off a branch just behind the boar and shot off at an awkward angle. But the board heard and looked up at me. Barely a second passed, before it let out an ear piercing squeal and charged right towards me, its tusks lowered.

Now what do I do?

Dad didn’t hesitate. He pulled his hunting knife from its sheath, jumped between me and the boar and quickly dispatched it. It happened so fast I almost didn’t see it. For a few stunned seconds I felt light-headed and nearly blacked out. I had simply stood there, too frozen to move. I had no idea how to handle a crazed, wild animal. But I was very thankful to have my father there as my backup. 

“Go find the arrow while I take care of this,” Father ordered.

I honestly looked for it, really I did. But it was nowhere to be found. I had no idea where it landed. Maybe it was in a tree? After we both looked for it, it was getting too late so we had to abandon another arrow. 

“You are going to be the death of me and this family!” He exclaimed, after we both couldn’t find the arrow and had to return home.

Dad didn’t say much on the way back. He didn’t have to. I was so ashamed of my performance. I wasn’t a hunter and never would be. I knew it. Dad knew it.

How am I going to provide for my future family?

What I dreamed of, what I really wanted to do, I knew now would never happen for me. I was already past the age where my affinity should have manifested, if I even had one. Only 1 in 10 people had any affinity for magic. And of those most were never going to be very powerful.

Magic affinities tended to run in families. Ever since I was little, I had fantasized about becoming a great mage, powerful enough that I could protect my family, and even my town when needed. People would come from all over the kingdom so I could bless them with my great power and wisdom. Maybe I would even serve the king directly or help him win battles to keep the country safe? After all, both of my parents had magic, so I knew I would too. My mother had two affinities, nature and flow (able to control both air and water). The people in town said that having more than one affinity was extremely rare.

But then I learned that affinities most often manifested just before puberty started, but I had already passed that several years ago. That’s one reason I had asked dad if I could go hunting with him today. Maybe I could become a great hunter instead of a mage? But even that hope was now dashed.

As we came into view of our home in the distance, however, dad stopped me, still carrying the large boar under one arm.

“I need to apologize, Jer. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It was only your first hunt. No one does well the first time.”

I had heard the story of his first hunt many times, about how he was able to bring down two deer (with only one arrow, he’d boast sometimes with a wink), so I knew he expected me to do well. But he was trying hard to help me feel better, so I didn’t say anything, but I gave him a small smile in thanks.

I still felt horrible inside, though.

When we came home mom came out in greeting and congratulated me on my first kill, with a huge hug, pulling me off my feet, an impressive feat, since I was almost as tall as her. I looked at dad over mom’s shoulder, but he didn’t say anything.

“Now, get washed up and come in for your supper,” she said. “We only just started eating.” 

During supper I was mostly quiet. Dad, however, regaled the family with a story of how we hunted the herd of deer which had somehow gotten spooked just as I was going in for the kill, as well as how we came upon the surprised boar on our way back. He steered clear of how much I had messed up, but even I was smiling as he talked about the ferocious boar with huge tusks, becoming enraged trying its best to gore both of us. He didn’t say who actually made the kill, for which I was thankful, even though my face was hot with shame.

Mom gave me a big smile, but I think she knew.

After supper that night, in our shared bedroom, Fin and Lil wanted me to tell them my side of the story. At first I didn’t want to say much. But then I remember reading to them from their fairytale books some pretty tall tales which could not be the complete truth. So I decided to tell them my own story, with a few extra parts thrown in to make it more interesting.

I started with telling them how beautiful the trees were with all of the birds singing in the branches and how exciting it was to be out in the forest alone with dad on my first hunt. I talked about stalking quietly through the trees with my bow and arrow ready. I confessed that I missed with several arrows, But as for what spooked the deer away, it was a loud sound which might have been a massive bear roaring on the mountain. I did talk about how scared I was of the boar, but that dad helped me to kill it. Lastly, I complained about my feet and even showed them the nasty blisters I had earned, proving that we had walked for many miles. 

“I’m going to be a mighty hunter like Dad, someday,” Fin declared, after I had finished with my story.

“I hope so, too,” I told him. “Make sure you practice with your bow, so you don’t miss like I did the first time.”

“I think I want to be a hunter, too,” Lil decided. “I really like shooting arrows, but I’m not strong enough to hunt yet. And I’m not sure about wild boars either.”

“You can be whatever you want,” I said. “You just need to practice while you are young, so you will be good when you get older.”

After stories, we settled down for the night. They were probably thinking about the exciting hunting trip we had.

But I knew what really happened.