Bloodlines

Chapter 16: Healing Wounds

I crept through the woods, each step carefully placed trying to avoid the fallen leaves and remain silent. My bow is held at my side, the smooth wood comfortable in my grip, the arrow between the pointer and middle finger of my right hand. The summer heat beats down, sweat beads beginning to form at my temples as I scour the landscape, looking for prey.

Suddenly I spot it, a large buck grazing nearby on the grass. It hasn't noticed me, and I squat down to avoid being seen. Mum and Dad were out on a hunt, leaving me and Anthony to look after ourselves. Only ten years old, but honing my skills to one day join them in the family business. Although there was food at the house, Anthony insisted on hunting. He was always looking to improve, always looking to become a better marksman. Easy for him, the bow was his speciality, not mine.

Assessing the wind direction and speed, I take aim. My left arm extends out fully, the tip of the arrow pointing where I need it to go. I nestle the thumb of my right hand on the crease of my mouth, a marker Anthony often used and taught me. I stare down the beast, but my nerve wavers.

I'm too far.

I go to take a step forward, lowering my bow as I do so. But I'm not paying attention.

*snap*

I've stepped on a twig. The buck looks up, spotting me instantly. I mutter a curse under my breath as the buck takes off into the woods. I hastily pull my string taught ready to loose when I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. It's Anthony.

"Don't be hasty, you'll ruin the hide," he said. I lower my bow again, as he steps forward and pulls his bow back. The confidence is oozing from him, from the way he stands, his shoulders back and relaxed, his face concentrated by also calm. I watch the buck dancing away, thinking surely not, surely he can't hit it from here.

But then Anthony lets loose.

The arrow flies through the air, seeming to dodge the trees and undergrowth as it whistles past. Despite the deer having it's rear to us, Anthony somehow had predicted it's movement pattern, and the arrow flew past the backside and straight into the neck. The buck fell, still.

"You can't rush these things," Anthony said, jogging over to where the buck lay. I tottered off after him, huffing and claiming next time we use close combat methods only.

"You wouldn't get close," he laughed, turning back to face me. We were so much alike, confident, loud, with similar face structure. His cropped brown hair damp with sweat, his brown eyes wide with the thrill of hunting. But we were also so different. He has a lot more patience than I do, a lot more social skills than me. And lastly, I'm alive and he's not.

***

"Sylvia?" Darian said, drawing her back to the present. The group of three were in a large marketplace, bustling with people and stalls. Sylvia had been staring intently at a large buck carcass for sale for an uncomfortable amount of time, and Darian was tired of making small talk with Aliyah while she zoned out.

"Sorry what?" she replied, blinking rapidly while trying to shake the goosebumps forming on her skin. The group was now far north, and the weather was rapidly changing into a cold, bitter frost. The group has recently purchased heavier gear, one to combat the cold, but two to disguise Aliyah better than just a draped black cloth over his tall structure. However, it wasn't the weather making Sylvia's skin crawl.

"I said I'm gonna go check out the barber over there," Darian replied, pointing over to a shop. The group were currently recuperating from their latest adventure of taking down a large werewolf pack that had started attacking the town. Not wanting to add more scars to her collection, Sylvia was more than happy to let Darian take the lead. Aliyah was more concerned about documenting the hunt, relishing in the new information he had acquired. Sylvia on the other hand was trying to ignore his presence. It was Darian's idea to bring him along, not hers. Or so she told herself.