The Great Bow in its entirety creaked, strained and moaned in the onslaught of the cold winter wind. The gusts came down in waves from the tall peaks on the north-western edge of the Bow, carrying the freezing cold of its icy caps with them. The forest arced its way down from the north all the way down the centre of the kingdom, making the shape which earned it its name. It was one of the oldest and largest forests in Alürnia, home to the wild and the wild alone. It had a habit of swallowing people and not letting them back out again, which led to people staying well away from it – for the most part.
The Great Bow was a source for many tales, often telling of magic and magical beasts. It was also the inspiration for many lies, often telling of the supposed adventures and bravery of the person speaking them. The Bow was mysterious from afar, but when you come up close, it makes you just as wary of it as everyone else. If you ever heard people talking about it you can bet that the person who started the conversation lived far, far away from the north-western edge of the kingdom.
Which is why the good people of the village Norondi never hunted wild game. The town sat right in the lap of the upper region of the Bow. The only wild game to be hunted was in the Bow itself. Nobody was brave nor foolish enough to venture there. Certainly, not alone.
Zeff silently cursed as he bit his tongue. Chewing on Maru sticks may keep you awake and attentive but its side effects weren’t to be ignored. As slowly as he could, he shifted his weight to his left leg. He did not want to break the – less stable than he would have liked – branch he was on but the pins and needles building up in his right leg was getting unbearable. He would have moved to another branch but it was too late for that.
The Wolf crept slowly towards its prey, negotiating the bushes soundlessly, any time now it would go for the kill. It would not be so close to its target if it was not time to strike.
A lone Wolf in the winter was not unheard of. Wolves are by nature pack animals but the unforgiving cold of the north was known to splinter many a pack. However, there was something strange about this one. The snow on its coat made it look more white than brown. It reminded Zeff of stories his mom used to tell him about Malaki, the Spirit of Mischief who would come down to Earth from time to time in the shape of a Wolf and kidnap naughty children.
Zeff would always argue, “Wouldn’t Malaki reward the children for their mischief? He is the Spirit of Mischief after all!” To which his mother, Melena, would reply, “Aye, but he was a prideful Spirit. He couldn’t have little brats like you pulling off a better prank than him now could he?”
It was a large, vicious creature. In a warmer season only a fool would be within two miles of it. However, it was winter, a time of desperation. The Wolf itself was doing something uncharacteristically desperate. Rather than stalking a smaller animal it was sure to kill, it was pursuing a full grown buck.
Perhaps it was starving and went after the first animal it saw. Then an even cheerier though came to him: Maybe it was weak because of the hunger!
Zeff had come upon the Wolf entirely by accident. He had been jumping from tree to tree, navigating through the dense forest looking for good game. A full grown – but gravely injured – bear would have been lovely, but that was wishful thinking.
Normally no one would hunt in this weather, especially not in the Great Bow. In fact, people did not hunt in the Bow even on the nicest of spring days. But he was desperate.
His larder had been empty for days already and the copper he reserved for emergencies was all he had had left – that would have lasted for a week at best. If he had not come up with a way to get some food or at least some coin he would have been forced to ask his stepsister for help. He would never do that, neither would he accept charity from someone else.
He figured The Great Bow was his best bet. He could either hunt himself some food or perhaps find something worth selling to the traders coming in the following day. Over the years he had found a lot of odd things, including his hunting bag, bow and a handy rake – all which came in great use to him.
Ever since his mother died all he had was himself. His mother had raised his stepsister and him herself. He never knew his father. She had said he was some rich gentleman she met when she was working in the city, said he was handsome and charming and kind. Zeff however, was sure she had just said that to make him feel better. Lisa – his stepsister on the other hand spent majority of her time insulting the man despite never having seen him.
Zeff shook away the customary anger that came whenever his thoughts drifted to his stepsister and brought his attention back to the beast.
The Wolf followed the buck as it entered a small glade. Still hidden in the bushes, it was getting ready to pounce. Keeping an eye on the Wolf, Zeff made his way silently to a tree on the edge of the clearing, being careful not alert either animal.
When he had first seen the Wolf and realised what it was trying to do, he was overcome with joy. It was an answer to all his prayers. A solution to all his problems. He had made the reckless decision of abandoning the doe he was struggling to track and followed the Wolf without a second thought.
This was the closest he had ever been to a creature so dangerous. The new vantage point showed him just how much he had underestimated the Wolf’s size. It was enormous, like a Direwolf out of a storybook. Any delusion that the Wolf might be in a weakened state dissolved in an instant. It became clear to him that it could take down the Buck with no trouble at all.
That would not do. For his plan to work the Wolf would have to be injured. Severely.
From his hunting bag he pulled out one of the pebbles he was going to use to lure whatever animal he found into the trap he had set. Keeping his bow ready with an arrow already knocked in his left hand, he used his dominant arm to take aim with the pebble. Focusing all his senses on the Wolf, he waited. Patience is the first thing you acquire when hunting in the wild.
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As he watched the wolf, he felt something change in the air. The air got denser, it began to weigh upon him. The beasts killing intent was overwhelming. He wondered how that alone did not alarm the buck.
Instinctively, he shot the pebble aimed straight at the buck’s rear. Not a second later, the Wolf was flying at the startled animal.
Unfortunately for the Wolf, the buck was on full alert. Spotting the Wolf flying at it, it struck out with its hind legs with all its strength and hit the Wolf squarely on its muzzle. The Wolf crumpled backwards as it howled in pain but recovered in an instant. It leapt onto the fleeing buck and caught it by the neck within its jaws, barely needing to use its claws at all. It snapped its jaws shut, mixing its own blood with the buck’s, killing it without a sound.
Holy spirits! Wolves aren’t supposed to be that strong.
The Wolf let the buck fall to the ground, but as it did the Wolf fell too. As if the damage from the kick to the face just caught up with it, it was having difficulty getting back up. It was then that Zeff shot his arrow straight into its heart. But it did not die like he expected it to.
Startled, it hurriedly got back to its feet, the arrow still sticking out of its side. Darn that thing is tough.
It made its way to one of the two clear ways out of the glad at a snail’s pace, clearly in a lot of pain. It was too weak to jump out through the thick foliage.
Zeff did not want to put another arrow in its hide – the less damage to it, the better it would sell – but pursuing it on foot would be too reckless, even for him. The Wolf was almost out of the clearing when he realised he did not need to fight it.
Swiftly, he launched his body off from the branch he was standing on, simultaneously knocking another arrow. He ran straight into the path of the Wolf and squared off against it.
Standing so close to it he realised that it was not the snow that made it look white. Its hide – under all the dirt and grime was naturally a pure, beautiful porcelain. Its eyes were a startling blue. They were so intelligent, so cognisant, they did not show any pain at all – nor did they show any fear. They gave Zeff second thoughts about the little plan he had concocted.
He trembled nervously but he did not back down. He could not back down, he had already committed. He looked at it straight in the eyes and drew back the bowstring. This was his last chance.
The Wolf let out a low threatening growl as it stopped a few metres ahead of him. With grim determination, Zeff stared right back.
It must have realised that it did not stand a chance if Zeff decided to put another arrow in it, not at that range. In what must have been a final burst of strength, it turned around and bolted out the other exit leaving a trail of dark red blood in the fresh snow.
If Zeff was not so terrified he would have admired the contrast longer.
He watched the beast lumber away but did not follow it. A few seconds later he heard a satisfying snap and a loud whimper.
As if a damn broke inside of him, he let out the air he did not know he was holding. Knees crumpling, he fell straight into the snow. All that fear gave him a delayed reaction of uncontrollable shivering and his thoughts caught up to him.
Wow. I cannot believe that worked. Felark would be proud.
Felark, a hunter who travelled with the traders every year was one of the many people in their motley crowd who more than welcomed an additional hand in running their stall. In return these people, all masters at their individual trade, would teach Zeff their arts and Zeff like a parched sponge, would absorb it all.
Zeff, through the years had made sure to absorb every skill and master it as fast as he could. Because he knew that if someday he was worth something, someone would take him away. One day, if he worked hard enough someone would ferry him south across the Scourged Plains. He’d be a real apprentice – one that can inherent his masters practice and clients. So he kept bothering every Smith, every Soldier, every Herbalist, every Cook, and every Bard until they taught him what he wanted to learn. And then he practiced. Day and night he practiced, because that was his only way out and well – he enjoyed it.
And now all those hours of crafting and fletching arrows just to shatter them on wooden targets was coming to something. He was about to hunt down a white Wolf! Maybe Jed will even write a bard’s tale about it!
Excitedly he hurried to where he knew the Wolf would be trapped, stepping over the dead buck. And then…everything faded to black.
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This is my first attempt at actually writing something of my own. I hope to write a lot in the future, not professionally but as a hobby. I'm using this story to build my confidence and speed. I read a lot of fantasy so most of the story will probably feel like a mash of many other stories. I'd appreciate any and all feedback so please spare some time to leave a comment or two. I don't really care for reviews at this point so don't bother. I'd really appreciate some critique though, so here's a link to a discussion I started on my story - http://royalroadl.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=40498 please feel free to write whatever you think about the story.