Tales of the Lost and the Wilds [on hold]

Where We Stand

"Ah, I was wondering if you'd come back after I so deeply offended you."

The human smiled at me. Like he was welcoming back an old friend to his home rather than welcoming a warden to his makeshift prison barn. He had made no attempt to loosen his restraints, as far as I could tell. A pity. I would've liked to point my arrows at his head and use him as a moving practice target.

I bit my tongue. I wasn't in the mood for games, and I certainly didn't have the patience. The human wasn't even worth a glance, so I just threw the blanket and the wicker basket filled with fresh fruit and vegetables down in the hay in front of him with my eyes averted. Then I turned and marched out of the barn.

"Thank you! You're most kind, if not a little curt," the human mockingly called after me.

Again, I didn't bother replying. My mind was elsewhere already. With Rhadoron's bow and what practice targets I would use, if not the human's face. There wasn't much in terms of material I could use out here. I was about to give up on using targets (it's not like my aim was great anyway), but then my eye fell on more wild berry bushes. I could draw marks on the barn's walls. The red berry juice would show clearly on the pale, weathered wood.

Satisfied with my temporary solution, I plucked a few berries and drew a circle at eye height and another at the height of my heart. Elven hunters never trained to wound; they trained to kill with a single arrow. Shooting with Rhadoron's old bow and not going for either the eye, throat, or heart felt disrespectful.

Holding his bow, to be truthful, already felt a little disrespectful. I looked down at the weapon in my hands, silently promising it I'd be worthy soon. Then, took my distance from the barn's wall and clumsily pulled an arrow from the quiver. Drawing the bow was hard. Harder than I'd expected. My muscles trembled with effort as I aimed the arrow at my makeshift target.

Taking a deep breath like I'd seen the hunters do, I released the arrow. The arrow hit the side of the building with a dull sound but didn't embed into the wood; it rebounded off the surface and landed in the grass. I couldn't tell exactly where I'd hit, but at least I'd hit the wall. That was a start and a vast improvement from how I handled a bow as a small child.

I took another arrow out of the quiver and aimed again, the same way as before. It was already becoming more challenging to draw the bow, and I was embarrassed at the way my arms and shoulders ached. As a hunter, I would have to be able to fight all day.

I breathed out as I released again, entirely focused on the target. Unfortunately, focusing didn't help me. The second arrow flew entirely in the wrong direction, towards the barn's door. Right as the arrow split wood, the door opened with a squeak.

A blond mop of hair peeked around the corner first. Then the human's face appeared, and he looked at the arrow with wide eyes. "Whoa, don't shoot!" he called out. His shoulders twitched like he wanted to raise his hands, but they were still tied. Good. I would've shot him immediately if he had made an attempt to free himself now.

"What are you doing outside, human?" I demanded, taking a step closer as I drew another arrow.

The human snorted. "Something hit the barn, and you failed to lock the door behind you. What was I supposed to do? Stay put and wait until an old, rotten beam fell on my head and killed me? And I have a name, you know. It's Malte."

"You're really going to give me ideas now on how to get rid of you and make it look like an accident, human?" I asked through gritted teeth, emphasising the last word.

"Right, my bad," the human replied flippantly. He glanced at the part of the wall where I'd smeared berry juice. It had already started its slow descent down, trickling into the grass. "Is that your target?"