I continued walking for another half of an hour before I saw it.
A stag. He was maybe fifty feet away from me, oblivious to my presence. His muscles rippled beneath his winter coat as he stepped onto the birch tree in front of him, stretching his neck to reach the bark higher up the tree. His teeth pulled down the leathery tree skin, his jaw working to chew through it. He stepped down from the trunk, his front hooves breaking the ice; giving me the perfect target. I knew that I had to fire now if I wanted anything to eat for the rest of winter.
Gut twisting, I notched my arrow, drew back, fingers tickling my face. I closed my left eye, aiming for his heart. I hesitated. No, I couldn't. Don't think! Don't think! Just fire! But he was such a magnificent creature, and to take his life to satisfy my needs didn't seem right.
Then the image of Cherina clutching her stomach from hunger loosened my fingers from the bowstring. My fingers unfurled, almost in slow motion, my arrow flying. No sooner had my arrow left my bow when a second arrow flew past my face, its feathers narrowly missing my cheek.
YOU ARE READING
The Healer
FantasyMagic and all fantastical creatures, anybody with magic flowing through their veins have been outlawed by the King. Those who didn't flee to the South of Atroce were executed, and thus any trace of Magic was wiped from the North. Except Arielle. T...
