The morning sun peaked over a quaint farming village. Men and women worked the fields while a few children ran about one of the few streets. The kids played a game of tag, often scurrying around houses to try and hide from who was 'it'. Two of those children had long forgotten the game though, as they tried to peek through the window of one of the bigger homes. From inside they heard the wailing and screaming of women.

"Push!" Encouraged the village priestess, Ellen. She laid a healing hand upon the stomach of the labored mother, while her other helped lessen the pain in the area the newborn was appearing. As a priestess, it was her job to heal and make the birthing process safer and easier, but by now she was beyond worn out.

Silvia; however was too focused on trying to breathe than listen to the words of Ellen. She could feel the intense pain shooting through her nerves, regardless of the priestess's attempts to negate it. She returned that pain through the grip of a hand inside her own. John, her husband, had mistakenly offered it a few hours prior. Silvia could tell she was crushing John's hand, and could see the pain flicker in his eyes. He didn't let it show for long though, as he dipped a rag in cold water with his free hand and dabbed it across her forehead. Something he had been doing for ten hours straight now. Gods did she love him, even if the irrational anger deep inside of her made Silvia want to crush his balls for the pain he put her in. It was his fault she was pregnant after all.

"There! Right there!" Ellen said suddenly. "I can see his head now! Just a little longer."

Silvia gave her all on the last pushes, tiring her out more than this entire experience had combined. She heard Ellen's and John's cries of joy and a baby's wailing, but she could no longer hold on. She was sapped and gave in to a short closure of her eyes. It didn't last long as a cute baby boy was presented in her arms.

"Sylvian." She heard John say. "A beautiful boy named after his gorgeous mother."

* * *

John bent down and ripped up a bundle of wheat from the ground and tossed it into the wooden cart off to the side. He was soaking wet from the wheat patties. The water on each step of the field often reached his ankles. Farming wheat was simply working in a stream, and it did wonders to keep the heat at bay.

Taking a moment to cool off, John looked over to Sylvian a few meters away. Sylvian was playing in the field, sitting in an area he had already culled of wheat. Around him swam little kumai. Small, glowing fish that made the wheat patties their homes. They often avoided people, but for some reason they always stuck around Sylvian, casting the boy in a rainbow of colors.

John let out a small sigh. ‘They grow up so fast.’ He thought to himself. Sylvian was already 5 moons of age, and though John knew that he would grow, Sylvian always seemed older. Even now John watched as his boy made a cave out of dried wheat stalks for the fish. He used mud to hold twigs together and would blow on them to help dry the joints into place. John didn’t have much experience with kids, but he thought that for a 5 moon old boy Sylvian was more advanced than others.

The cave Sylvian was building suddenly collapsed in on itself and the boy let out a tantrum of cries. John sighed again and shook his head from his previous thoughts. “What happened buddy?” John said as he made his way over to the outbursting child. He was going to need to console Sylvian over the loss of his creation it seemed.

* * *

Sylvian hopped over a small log blocking his path. His feet crunching some of the forest leaves below. "Are we there yet?" He asked his mother, who was currently crouching up ahead and running a hand along the ground. She moved a few dried leaves and pointed to some mud-imprinted animal tracks.

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"Yes, sweetheart." She whispered and raised a finger to her lips, reminding the boy to be quiet. "Look at these tracks here." Sylvian replied with a hurried nod and stayed silent as he moved over to his mother. As he walked closer a ray of light broke through the trees, gleaming off of his mother's golden blond hair. It reminded him of a fond memory. One he knew was there but could not recall.

He was 9 moons old now. A phrase he for some reason found odd. Age was counted by how many red moons you have been under in your lifetime, but he felt as if that wasn't always the case. He didn't fully understand it, but Sylvian knew things he shouldn't know. Like the time his father tried to teach him how to count and do basic math. He picked it up immediately and instead often corrected his father's mistakes. The same thing happened with writing. While he had to learn the symbols of their language, Sylvian was instantly able to steady out his hand and actually write. Though that had caused his wrist to be sore when he did it. Sylvian also thought back to some of the other kids in their village, Hasita. They seemed so...childish. He couldn't come up with a better term for it. Those kids also were not able to pick up on things like he could. It all gave Sylvian a headache whenever he thought about it too much.

Pushing those thoughts from his head, he squatted down next to his mother and looked at the tracks she pointed out. Deer.He knew it immediately. His mother's voice confirming his thoughts not a second later. "These are deer tracks. Remember what I told you about them? It looks like this one might be alone though, I haven't seen any other tracks around." Silvia took a quick glance around herself and then stood up in the direction of the tracks. Sylvian followed right behind her.

She stayed low as she moved through the forest brush. Avoiding the low-hanging poisonous fruits from the willow sap trees surrounding them. Sylvian did his best to follow her movements. He couldn't really understand how his mother was so good at traversing the forest floor. Vines that seems to move out of the way for her had a habit of reaching out to grab him instead. He managed not to trip or make any sudden noise, but he began to fall a few paces behind. Luckily for him, his mother stopped short of the clearing just up ahead. Sylvian watched from a distance as she pulled the wooden bow from her back and notched an arrow. Before drawing the string back, she waited for Sylvian to get into his position next to her.

Sylvian joined in and drew his bow as well. It was a dark wood bow like his mother's, made from the willow sap trees in this very forest. His father had made it for him as a birthday present for his ninth moon. Though Sylvian knew his mother had been dying to teach him the bow soon. His mother's words put him back on task, "Notch your arrow, and when you are ready, take your shot like we practiced." She instructed. "I'll cover you if you miss."

Sylvian slowed and breathing and nodded so his mother knew that he heard her. The crisp air blew by overhead, rustling the leaves of the tree above. He listened carefully as his heartbeat steadied, almost as if his heart had matched the pace of the forest around them. Once ready, he stood straight and drew back the bow string. The wind swept through the grassy plain before him, and Sylvian could feel the tension. It was his first hunt. He could do this.

As the arrow was about to be let loose, the deer turned and met his gaze. At that moment Sylvian felt a new sensation, one of curiosity. Where did it come from? From himself? No, it felt foreign. Was he simply hesitating? No, Sylvian was not afraid of taking the animal's life. It was the cycle of life, and his family needed food on the table. What was the hesitation he felt and why the blank form of curiosity?

Is it the deer?

Sylvian's pull on the bow softened, and the arrow tip began to sink toward the forest floor. The air buzzed as his mother let loose her notched arrow in a quick and graceful movement. The deer didn't have time to react and was struck in the side. As the deer's eyes widened, Sylvian felt its fear. But it was only a flicker as the deer collapsed, dead from the accurate and piercing shot.

"Are you ok?" His mother asked.

Concern surrounded her words. But Sylvian could not bring himself to look at her gaze, instead his own was still trained on the fallen animal. "I'm ok." He responded. "I just...choked. I'm sorry." He shook himself out of his stupor and met his mother's eyes. "Next time I got this though! I was just afraid I would miss."

It was not a lie. Next time he wouldn't choke. Sylvian looked at the deer's carcass. Whatever that feeling was, he would not let it stop him a second time.