Enchantment of the Bow

Chapter Five

Syl had me drag my saddle near hers on the ground to rest my head on, and I lay Lasreal's blanket down in front of it to use as a pull over later on.

I turn to look at her. "I can help you hunt if you want. I'm quite good at it." I offer. It isn't so much that i feel that I owe this to her for intruding, but more that I need to get something for Lasreal so that he doesn't eat anyone.

She gives me a skeptical look as I pick up my bow and quiver from where it lay near my saddle. She pushes a lock of unruly red hair away from her face. "Alright. It's the least you can do for causing me trouble anyway, you stupid arse."

I give her a foul look, and brush past her to where we rode into the wooden-hidden grove with my pack slung over my good shoulder.

Adolin falls in step next to me. "So, you're Navani, right?"

I nod in response, my faked man's voice sounding strange in comparison to his deeper one.

He nods as well. "Going to help hunt with my sister?"

"Yes." I respond, still walking.

"Well," He says, getting closer like he has a secret to tell me. "So long as you don't hunt her, short arse." And with this, he turns and falls back to the campsite.

I suppose Short arse fits me rather well, since I stand at least three inches shorter than Syl, let alone the others. Like I would hit on her, even if I was a man. She has the temper of a wolf. No, no one would have to worry about me wanting after her.

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I crouch near a pair of deer tracks, and stand, looking ahead to find more. There is also a pile of droppings to the side of one set, still rather recent.

Syl had been watching me for the past fifteen minutes, intrigued at how well I was tracking this herd.

"So, how does a princess learn how to hunt so well?" She asks eventually, kicking up leaves behind me once we had started off again.

I don't spare a glance at her, my eyes on the tracks. "My brother taught me."

She thinks for a minute. "You're  an only child."

I nod. "Yes. But this man was a brother to me, not by blood, but by loyalty. He was more of a father to me than anyone."

She grunts. "And he taught you to fight as well?"

"Yes."

She's quiet for another few beats. "He taught you well." This was more of a compliment to me than she knew. But I don't tell her that.

I stop after a few paces, making a motion with my hand that she should do the same, and I creep forward slowly at a half crouch.

A small herd of stag graze in a field a few yards away, and I lower myself farther into the brush silently. One buck, the leader, I'd guess, raises his head, his big ears flicked towards us. After a minute of finding nothing threatening, he finds it safe enough to lower his head again.

I lift my bow up and attempt to pull the string back, but wince at the strain on my shoulder, the wound threatening to rip open again. I shouldn't have come with her. I loosen it, close my eyes and take a breath, then in a swift movement, raise it again, pull back, aim and release. I stifle my cry of pain to avoid scaring off the stag.

I hit right in the skull beneath his ear, and he drops like a sac of potatoes. The other stag flee in a flash of white tails in the opposite direction.