Fallow

O N E

I kept my breathing low as I felt the prick of a thorn caressing my face. With eyes trained beyond the brambles I was hiding in, my prize stood under the rays of the brilliant sun. A rounded buck, well fed and obviously a long ways from his home, stood grazing not even a hundred feet before me.

My arms were tired from holding the bow up, but I had to move slowly only every few moments in order not to lose the prey. Now that winter had gone and Spring was in full bloom, I needed to provide for my family and restore my dignity as a worthy daughter in our town.

Marking my target, I let the arrow fly from my hideout. The buck looked up, but didn't react fast enough; the arrow was embedded in it's chest and I quickly sent another one to ensure the buck's death. When the buck stumbled and fell, I quickly emerged from my hideout and pulled out my knife.

Nearing the dying animal, I sent a prayer to the gods to thank them for blessing me with a good kill and wish the spirit a safe journey. Then, I plunged my knife into the chest and twisted, pulling back with what little life the buck had. That was when I began gutting it, leaving small amounts of the organs out that my father's wife would have no use for.

When I carried the buck back to the village, I barely felt the weight of it bear me down. Instead, I felt light and proud, but made sure I kept a dignified expression on my face. This kill was beyond me. This kill was for my family. Not for bragging rights.

My return was spotted almost instantly. The little girl, Taryn, from one of the blacksmith's many wives, pointed excitedly at me and ran up to my side. She said no words, as it was against custom to speak to a hunter after they return from an expedition. But, she did attract the other children of the village. Two of her brothers, both older, flanked me and even tried mimicking my expression.

I, of course, found it humorous on the inside. Once upon a time, I had done the same thing, walking up to our greatest hunter, Arrow, and hoping he would give me the Hunter's Blessing if I could mimic him well enough. Sadly, it had been Clea, an unmarried woman who had saw potential in me from the very start.

Arrow, of course, continued to ignore me, even through my training. Maybe my game would bring his attention to me, especially since he had yet to bring any game back from his expeditions.

When I neared the butcher shop, I knew that the elders and adults were watching. I caught the gaze of Clea, washing her children's clothes in a bucket in her doorway, who nodded but said nothing. Resisting the urge to nod back, I kept my gaze straight and walked with a purpose.

Not even the five children besides me could slow me down.

I walked straight up to the butcher, who was waiting with his beefy arms crossed. A look of something I couldn't recognize passed over his face, and I soon realized it was pity. That was when I noticed that his beefy arms had fresh blood over them, and that his butchering apron was on.

Faltering, my lips turned down at the corner. I didn't have to wonder who had brought game before me, only one other hunter had gone out that day. Instead, I stood tall and waited for Arrow to exit the butcher's shop.

He did, although his face remained impassive.

With his hundreds of tiny golden braids catching the light of the sun, I was reminded of his status by the many wooden beads carved with symbols adorning his tips. With his Hunter's Paint still on, I was mildly thrown back by the blueness of his eyes compared to the dark colors painted onto his bronze skin. But what disappointed me the most was the knife he had attached to his hip.

It was a knife that the blacksmith's youngest wife had begged to be made for him. Everyone in the village knew that Durra held Arrow in a light of fascination, and that the blacksmith might express her as a gift to Arrow in order to be placed in his high graces. When winter comes back around, I would not be surprised if the offer arises so Arrow would share his game with the blacksmith's large family.