The forest held its breath, the air thick with the scent of pine needles and freshly fallen snow. As dusk slowly slipped into night, a hunter stalked through the woods, his bow strapped around his shoulder, his quiver of arrows nearly empty. He had with him three rabbits, two of which his son carried. His son was twelve years old, though he looked older. The oldest of eight children, he was already a seasoned hunter, his small frame surprisingly strong.
"Father," the boy began, pausing, a furrow appearing on his brow. He turned his head, his sharp eyes scanning the dense undergrowth. "Did you hear that?"
The hunter, stopped in his tracks, listening intently. Nothing reached his ears. "No," he replied, his voice low and gruff.
"It came from that direction," the boy said, pointing towards a cluster of ancient oak trees. "May I go check?"
The hunter listened closely for moment, then nodded briefly. "Don't be too long."
"I won't!" He dropped the rabbits and moved quickly until he reached the heart of the grove. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. There, nestled amidst the cold, stark snow, lay a tiny human form, wrapped in a threadbare cloak. A girl, looked about two or three years old, her eyes wide with fear, her tiny chest heaving with every desperate cry as she leaned against a trunk.
"Father!" He shouted. "Come quickly!"
"What is it?" His father was at his side in a few seconds.
"Look," he pointed to the bundle.
"A baby...?" Fresh tracks, barely concealed by a thin layer of snow, led away from the abandoned child. The tracks were large, unmistakable. This was no animal. A shiver of disgust ran through the hunter. Someone had deliberately left the child to die in the unforgiving embrace of the winter.
Without a word, he scooped the tiny girl into his arms. The young one clung to him, her whimpering lessening to a quiet, shaky sigh as she burrowed into his rough woolen cloak.
"Let's go home, Kael," he said, his voice heavy.
The journey back to their small cabin, nestled in a clearing, felt longer than usual. the hunter's wife, Beatrice, a woman whose kindness rivaled the harshness of their life, was at the door waiting, her face etched with worry. As he walked in, the scent of baking bread and the warm glow of the hearth greeted them.
"John, what's going on?" Beatrice asked, her eyes widening as she saw the little girl nestled in his arms.
"They left her. Alone. To die." Kael answered for him.
"That's awful," Beatrice gasped, covering her mouth. "She's so small, so fragile..."
They had seven children already, their lives a constant struggle to make ends meet. Yet, the thought of this little one, left alone to die, was unbearable.
They bathed the baby girl in warm water, fed her with a spoonful of porridge, and tucked her safely into a cradle made of woven reeds, the warmth of their hearth chasing away the coldness of the abandonment.
That night they huddled around the fire, their children gathered close–the little girl sleeping–the Levine family could have a chance of change–for the better.
So... idk. I've got major writer's block for all my books besides this one—and a rewrite that I might publish in 4000 years or so... anywho, I still don't know what I'm doing, and hopefully I won't discontinue this book, like most of my other books 😅
AnYwAySs lol :P
