As Altan knelt to examine the animal tracks, he could tell that they belonged to a deer. He pointed to his companions in the direction of the tracks and signaled for them to keep silent.
After a while, they arrived at a small stream. Its banks were covered with dry autumn leaves. The soothing sound of running water and the small crunchy noises of the leaves comforted their weary bodies, briefly alleviating their concerns.
Such comfort did not last, however. Aware that his siblings would starve if he failed to catch this deer, Joshua ordered them not to approach further. He was concerned that stepping on the dry leaves would alert the deer to their presence and spook it away.
Being the only one holding a bow, he resolved to shoot it from a distance. The boy had only two arrows in his quiver. He knew there was no room for error.
As he nocked his arrow, he recalled the director's instructions. He had taught him how to control his breathing and aim for the vital points. Joshua remembered the scolding he received for letting an animal suffer after missing his shot once. This memory weighed heavy on his heart, fueling his determination to honor the director's teachings.
As soon as the deer finished drinking from the stream and lowered its head, Joshua loosed his arrow... Thwump!
The arrow found its mark. The deer fell into the stream, thrashing around briefly. Eventually, the grunting sounds stopped as it breathed its last, and soon all that remained was the sound of the stream and the crackling of leaves as a few rabbits darted away, startled.
Reynard was dissuaded from chasing after them. They needed to save their energy, especially now that the situation was still unclear.
Joshua and Reynard carried the deer’s corpse while Altan guarded them on the way back. Reynard grumbled about having to hold the head of the deer, its blood slowly dripping onto his clothes, but he was quickly silenced by a concerned Altan.
Altan knew that the smell of blood in the forest could spell trouble, and soon his fears were confirmed when a growling noise was heard from a distance, accompanied by the sound of hooves rustling through the leaves!
Alarmed, the group quickened its pace. Recognizing the distinct growling of a boar and not wanting to be caught out in the open, they frantically searched their surroundings for a safe area.
Soon, they spotted a grove where trees grew too close together and decided to make their stand there. They laid the deer’s corpse down behind them and gripped their weapons.
Joshua, displaying his usual tactical genius, quickly hatched a plan. Altan, recognized as the most physically gifted, exchanged his short knife for Reynard's spear. Joshua would fire his last arrow and draw the boar toward him. Altan would then raise the spear at the last moment to skewer the boar as Joshua jumped aside. Reynard and Joshua would use their short knives to finish off the impaled beast.
Soon, the stampeding beast became visible, and everyone took their positions. Joshua began taunting the boar, trying to force it through the narrowest tree spacing. He loosed his arrow, but it failed to penetrate the boar's skull. The animal's eyes glinted with rage, and it began charging toward its target, foaming at the mouth. It had become a rabid beast, bent on lodging its sharp tusks into the man who had dared anger it.
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Joshua understood that the beast was blinded by fury and bided his time, waiting until it was only a couple of feet away as he struggled to quell his anxiety. As the boar passed through the clearing, he shouted, "Now, to the right!" and jumped to the side. Altan let out a battle cry and surged forward from his prone position with the spear, piercing the boar's belly as it tried to follow Joshua’s movements.
As Altan struggled to hold back the momentum of the boar, it continued to squirm and grunt heavily. Reynard swiftly pounced forward, repeatedly stabbing the back of its neck in a frenzy, blood gushing from the wound and splattering over his face.
Meanwhile, Joshua rummaged for his knife, nearly dropping it due to the excessive sweat on his hands. Finally, he got a good grip and thrust it upward into the boar's skull, ending its struggle.
As the exhausted trio lay on the ground and breathed easily, Altan let out a celebratory cry. He shared Dirrar's free spirit and always participated in his post-hunt ceremony, covering his face with the prey's blood, but for now, he was too exhausted to move and simply wanted to savor the rush of victory a little longer...
--
The situation back at the orphanage looked grim. The director’s body was covered in stab wounds, and an arrow was wedged in his left shoulder, rendering that arm unusable. He panted from exhaustion due to the prolonged confrontation.
He had managed to get rid of yet another opponent, prompting Godwin to order more bandits to join the battle, promising them additional gold. The cowardly bandits tried to riddle the director with arrows and knives from a distance, and he was on his last legs.
Seeing him starting to reel from side to side, the bandits moved in like hyenas, coveting his sword and armor. One of them sprang forth from behind while the rest kept him distracted with arrows and knives. A few found their mark, and the attacker stabbed him in the back.
The general let out a muffled grunt from the pain and swung his body around, leading with his sword and cleaving the chest of his backstabber in two. Struggling to regain his balance, Godwin quickly rushed forward, shoving aside the rest of the bandits itching to strike the final blow.
His blade struck true, piercing the director’s stomach. His eyes beamed with excitement. As the director’s arms slumped to the side and his sword dropped from his hands, it seemed all was over. But at that moment, the director swung his right arm around, removed the blade lodged in his back, and, using every ounce of strength, slashed upwards.
The knife ran across Godwin’s face from the bottom of his jaw toward his left eye, connecting with his existing scar to form an upside-down V shape, finally reaching his left eye.
Godwin stumbled backward, and his last remaining knight dragged him away to tend to his wounds as the director’s body fell to the ground, blood rushing from his pierced stomach.
In his final moments, many thoughts surged through the director’s mind: longing for a final meeting with his spouse, regret over parting with the children so suddenly without a farewell, and worry for their safety.
Then he began to remember his past—the countless battles he led and the struggles he faced. Guilt weighed on his chest as he wondered if he had come any closer to redemption for his grave sins, as Saint Scianeus had.
His thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps approaching. It seemed he couldn’t even watch his life flash before his eyes in peace.
He chuckled, thinking his enemies couldn’t even trust him to die properly and had come to finish the job.
The footsteps stopped a short distance away, and after a few moments of anticipation, the director grew annoyed. As he started to open his eyes, ready to urge them to get it over with, he did not see the metal boots of knights, but the feet of a small child. In shock, he looked up and found that it was Arlen, the small, timid boy.
Crestfallen, the director tried to gesture for him to run, but he couldn't move his limbs, and his voice betrayed him. Arlen stared with a blank expression as the only man who had ever extended his arm to him and loved him unconditionally lay in a pool of his blood.
After a short daze, the boy dropped to his knees in the blood and started patting the director’s head. Tears trickled from his gray eyes, though his expression remained unchanged. He did not utter a sound as he witnessed the director draw his final breath.