"Careful Bell." An old man softly said. "Remember what I taught you. Keep your breathing steady, don't pull back until you're ready, and when you're ready, fire."
A boy no older than seven waited behind a bush with his Grandfather. A bow in his hands with an arrow knocked into the drawstring. In front of the two was a small doe nibbling on a patch of grass, unaware of the two's presence.
The older man's hand rested on the boy's shoulder as he drew the drawstring back. His red eyes were hard and laser-focused, and his breathing slowed to a crawl. The world around him seemed to slow, as there was nothing but him and the doe. With a small breath, the boy loosed the arrow and watched as it soared through the air before sinking into the doe's skin.
It pierced its heart causing the doe to thud to the ground. Not a single sound or shriek left its lips as it was dead before it hit the ground. Cold black eyes stared at nothing as the boy lowered the bow.
The older man smiled and patted the boy's shoulder. "Good job Bell, that was an excellent shot."
The boy now named Bell smiled and looked over to the dead doe. It's still, unmoving body and blank eyes scaring him a little. "Do they always...do they always just drop like that?"
The old man nodded. "Aye they do, but that just means you're a good shot. It's better to give the animal a quick death than a long drawn-out one."
Bell frowned and looked to the ground. "Does the animal feel any pain when we kill them?"
The old man was quiet for a second. As if contemplating an answer suitable for the boy. "Only for a second, and even then it's more like a sharp pin prick than anything else. They're dead before they even realize what's happening."
Bell was quiet as his Grandpa stood from the brush they were hiding behind. A dagger was already in his hand and a rope was around his shoulder. "Come on Bell, time to teach you how to skin and clean it."
The boy gulped and his face turned slightly green as he followed after his Grandpa. The old man knelt beside the doe and gestured Bell forward. Tentatively Bell inched forward until the old man sighed and shook his head.
"Alright, first start with an incision right about here."
The old man cut into the doe and the smell of guts hit Bell's nose like a speeding cart to the face. He dry heaved and stumbled away as bile rose to his throat. The old man just sighed and shook his head again as Bell ducked behind a tree and emptied his guts.
"You're going to have to learn to do this someday Bell." His Grandpa called out.
But Bell was too busy throwing up behind a tree to register what he was saying. Eggs and bacon expelled themselves from his gut as his Grandpa continued to skin the doe.
Bell groaned and wiped his lips, feeling his throat burn and an awful taste was resting on his tongue. He spit but the taste was still there and wouldn't be going away anytime soon.
Bell looked up and saw an elf, with beautiful golden honey-colored hair and hazel eyes. She was a few years older than Bell. By how many years he didn't know, and she looked at him apprehensively before smiling.
"Hello, I'm Alicia. What's your name?"
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.
.
"Show me your magic." A nine-year-old Bell demanded.
Alicia, who was now sixteen smiled and patted Bell on the head. "I tell you about it once and now you're jumping to see it."
"Well duh! It's magic, magic's cool."
"You've never seen magic, so how do you know it's cool?"
Bell frowned. "Because my books told me so! Now come in I wanna see your magic!"
