Screaming into utter emptiness, the glistening, chrome finished arrow shoots into the sky - sharp and swift, yet graceful and smooth - as my fingers slip from the thread that tugged it backwards. Fixated, I watch as it pierces slowly through the raven's feathers as it lets out a croaky screech, falling at the land's edge right by my feet, salty waves quick at their attempts to swallow it into its moving, rushing spell. Cautiously stepping forward, I feel my bare toes curl around the very edge of the hard rock; I bend down and pick up the bird. It is cold, bony... Its stiff wings stick out from its body as if they've been stuck on with glue - I can feel its soul rising up and leaving its dead, lifeless body. Tracing its black silhouette, my fingers find something sticky and strangely warm, seeming as it came from its frozen body - I pull the arrow out rapidly and take the now blood-stained bird in my fist's firm grasp. Hiking up the harsh, jagged rocks whose features are as icy as the frost that coats the winter ground, I clench my teeth to stop from crying out in joy.
Whenever any meat passes by, I can receive it with only one pull of the string that cradles one of the three arrows I have. But no meat passes by any more. Only every so often - when we're lucky. Fortunately, we were lucky today.
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One Shot
Teen FictionRobyn Silke. The only source of food any of her family have on the island that's supplies are rapidly decreasing. She's the only one who can get them out of this mess. The woods. Behind them they stretch out like wildfire, mysterious and haunting. ...
