Echoes of the Forest

Chapter One

Kestra

The early autumn leaves were falling so beautifully as a gentle breeze washed over the forest. For just a second, I let my eyes follow the path of a bright yellow one lilting in the wind. The comforting smell of evergreens filled the late afternoon air as my gaze flitted from the descending leaf out to the expanse of trees before me.

I hadn't been able to complete my ritual of communing with nature in a while. It was a respite from the usual bustle of Imodell and whatever rigorous militia training I was being put through that week. The past month had been hellish with the Kingdom of Bastiral to the south encroaching ever so slowly into the forest; our forest. Neither the Imodell City Guard nor the Elven militia knew what was happening, but everyone knew neither was happy about it.

I let my mind wander, imagining what it was like in those villages and cities in the Human kingdom to the south. It had been centuries since anyone of Elven blood had ventured out that far past the forest's edge; I was never meant to see those villages and cities.

I had been slumped against a bough of a nearly-leafless oak tree, my bow hanging loosely in one hand, when I heard the quick but distinct sound of a twig snapping underfoot - maybe twenty yards away at the most.

Careful to not catch myself on a branch, I slowly reached over my shoulder and drew an arrow from the quiver slung on my back. My eyes darted back and forth as I searched for whatever was moving through the forest. I nocked the arrow onto my bowstring silently.

Another crack rang out through the woods, now ten yards away and moving closer. I could usually see a doe dodging trees or a squirrel scuttling through the brush, but doubt washed over me. I turned my head and searched in all directions but couldn't pinpoint the source of the sounds; were my ears playing tricks on me?

My breathing quickened and my heartbeat roared in my ears as I anticipated the arrival of something much more dangerous than something I would usually eat for dinner.

I leapt between tangled branches, catching leaves on the way down. I landed deftly with my bow fully drawn, the string pressed against my cheek and digging into the leather of the archer's glove protecting my right hand.

When I realized it was a man before me my aim wavered, but I had already begun to loose the arrow. I inhaled sharply and watched as it corkscrewed through the air; only a hair's width separated the point from the man's head. He turned to follow the arrow's trajectory and I had another arrow nocked and my bowstring taut before he whipped around to face me.

"Please," he said as he put blood-stained, calloused palms out in a cautionary manner, almost as if he was trying to soothe an angry animal. "Please."

"Who are you?" I demanded as I looked him up and down, my eyebrows knit together in confusion. I shifted my stance and readjusted my grip on my bow.

"Jack," he breathed laboriously. "My name is Jack."

I could see his jaw clench. Only now did I notice that it seemed exhaustion was about to overtake him. The smell of fire and ash engulfed him. His beige muslin tunic was painted with splotches of dark red blood and his feet were black from negotiating the forest floor without shoes.

I lowered my bow a few inches but kept the string taut, the fibers beginning to cut into my fingers through my archer's glove, while I contemplated my options. It was nothing less than odd that a young man - an injured one, at that - was wandering the forest alone in his disheveled state.

"Jack." His name felt odd in my mouth as I spoke it. "Come with me." I watched him stand in front of me in silence as I released the tension on my bow string and returned the arrow to my quiver.