ON HOLD WHILE I TRY NOT TO FAIL MY AP EXAM
𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦...
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵, 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘺, 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩, 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 �...
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Just as I thought all my problems were solved, I hear a thunderous crashing from the trees behind me. "Oh, mother of-" I turn to start running (again), when I crash into someone and go flying.
"Rheid!" One of my fellow hunters, Brian, holds out a hand to help me off the ground. "What are you doing out here all alone?"
"Hunting," I deadpan. Brian shakes his head with a sigh.
"No crap, R. Why are you so far from the main group?"
"Um...a bear? And a really unfortunate detour through the woods?" My answers come out like questions, even though I am telling the truth.
"A bear," another hunter chimes in - I think his name is Alfred? - with a sneer. "You ran from a bear like a little baby?" he mocks.
I restrain myself from punching him. "It was a mother bear. Chased me clear across the woods and over the river."
Brian claps me on the shoulder, "Well, at least she didn't get you."
"Yeah," I say, glaring at Alfred, "at least..."
I join up with Brian's hunting group as they meander back through the woods, shooting any unfortunate animal that comes near us with the silver-shafted arrows provided to the king's ceremonial party. We've only been walking for a bit when one of the young men pales and points at Alfred's belt.
"S-s-sir?" he whispers.
"What?" Alfred snaps.
"T-the vial's gone," the guy says.
"WHAT?" Alfred yells. We all wheel around, spreading out as we search for the vial. Without it, we are vulnerable. Without it, we will be killed. The king will punish us brutally for losing it - if we don't all die right now.
"Let's retrace our steps," Brian says. "It's no use trying to continue onwards without it."
But the 'it' in question is small, and there's no trace of it anywhere. "Maybe it broke?" I suggest.
The rest of the hunters turn on me. "If it's broken, then we're all done for!" cries one of the older men.
I hold up my hands, hoping for mercy from the hostile gazes of the hunting party. Wow, I think to myself, remember to be way more careful about flippant thoughts in the future.
By the time we've reached the river again, everyone is giving up but pretending to keep looking. Many of them have clearly resigned themselves to the brutal fate that awaits us - either death while attempting to get out of the woods, or torture at the hands of the king after we tell him we lost his most prized possession. Even Alfred isn't looking with the same gusto he had before.
Brian sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Well, it was nice knowing you guys," he quips. No one even bothers to glare at him (highly unfair, in my opinion).
"If it fell in the river we're never getting it back," the veteran of our party, a grizzled old man who had been on the hunt six times already, groused.
"Don't say that," Alfred reprimanded. "We keep looking until we find it." Or until we die. His unspoken words are just as loud, filled in by everyone else's minds.
But hours later, as the dawn is beginning to break, he accepts defeat like the rest of us, sinking to his knees and praying.
