A sense of adventure is what I most longed for growing up, and waking up to daily chores and responsibilities sure as hell can't be anyone's idea of it. I was facing an arranged marriage to make matters worse, but I won't be getting into the details of that particular eyesore at this time. Long story short, I ran away. Now here I am, about to reach the next town, I hope, because I have since devoured the meager supply of food and water I'd thought to bring along. And while there have been plenty of berry bushes along the way, I am not sure which are edible if any, so I trudge on.
"May I ask what a lone girl is doing out in the forest?" The voice coming from my right belonged to a bowman dressed in a thick, blood red robe, essential for keeping warm during nights in this part of Pollyannterra. "I intend to visit family in a neighboring town," I lied. He didn't look convinced. "You look pale," he examined. I shrugged. "How about something to eat?" Even though I knew better than talking to a stranger, I accepted the invitation because I seriously needed sustenance. Besides, I'd began thinking I'd been wandering in a wide circle, and it appeared as if the bowman knew his way around. He handed me his jug and a small pouch containing cherries for which I thanked him before proceeding to down the water immediately. Then, he started walking back the way I think he'd come, and I couldn't help wondering what errand I'd distracted him from. I spat cherry seeds out while we walked and learned that he was prone to singing. He sang softly about the joys of living a simple life and truly did have an amazing singing voice. As evening arrived, I watched from various meeters away as he aimed his bow at a wandering rabbit and released. The ordeal was over in seconds. I had never seen anyone kill an animal before. A short walk later, we finally reached his quarters where I settled on a nice-sized rock and decided to put my journal to good use. The bowman placed the fresh game on a makeshift table and got to working methodically on cleaning and skinning it after having started up a fire. Thankfully I don't have a weak stomach. Soon, the meat cooked and we enjoyed an equal portion. When we were through, he suggested we go around collecting berries. He was taking it upon himself to teach me edible versus poisonous out of pity I imagined. I asked if he was certain the berries he instructed me to pick wouldn't harm us to which he replied matter-of-factly, "None of the berries in this forest could kill a man." Upon hearing that I exclaimed, "You mean to tell me I could have eaten something earlier? I went hours without!" He gave a chuckle and nodded. "Well, I guess it's comforting to know I wouldn't have died," I added as I plucked a blackberry from its stem and popped it into my mouth. The sun was setting by the time we returned, so the bowman suggested I stay. He allowed me the hammock he'd previously tied to a twisted tree and took the floor for himself. The thing is I couldn't fall asleep straight away because I felt bad about taking his bed, and I couldn't count stars because of the tarp overhead. In the end, I cannot say I hadn't gotten lucky enough to have met a person of such kind nature along my journey, wherever it was leading, and whatever his name was.
The next morning, I woke up to the faint beating of a drum. "I didn't mean to wake you there," he apologized when I sat up and proceeded to stretch. I swung my legs out of the hammock's embrace and stood up with a small jump. "No worries," I began, "my body is incapable of sleeping in." Later I would learn he often had trouble sleeping. "What were you writing about yesterday?" he took me aback by having asked what I consider to be a personal question. "I, uh, I am a poetess. An amateur, I'm afraid." He considered for a moment before thoughtfully saying, "Well, that would be open to interpretation." Encouraged, I took my journal out of my shoulder bag, turned a few pages before settling on one of my silly poems, and then handed it to him.
Green Eyes
The girl in the yellow house,
Treats me to delicious mouse.
The girl with long, dark brown hair,
Seems to worry how I fair.
The girl gives a gentle touch,
This stray cat yearns for so much.
Now only night brings the worst,
'Cause I miss her and it hurts.
I'd read the excerpt aloud as his dark brown eyes had criticized my lines. No, I realized when I looked at him for a bit longer than necessary. His right eye was dark brown while his left was a deep green. "That's not bad," he surmised, holding the journal back out to me, unfazed by my staring. "It was one of my first," I told him as I put it away. "I'm sure you've written other wonderful things," he praised gently. "I try to," I replied. "Now how about something to eat?" he asked in what would become a familiar way. We spent that afternoon nibbling on salmon he'd collected from a handmade trap in the nearby river and gorging on yet more berries as we made our way to town. I recall vaguely wondering when I would tire of berries. When we made it to town, everyone, and I mean everyone, greeted him. This meant I was greeted in turn, and I desperately hoped none of the traveling merchants would remember my face. "Good day, Kasiro," called out a woman in a long, emerald green dress. She was carrying a woven basket full of bread. "To you, too, Almana," he replied. The woman winked at me and handed me a roll before proceeding to hold the basket out to him once we were within arm's length. Kasiro placed the bucket of salmon he had brought along on the ground next to her and received the offering. She leaned in close and kissed him on the cheek. "It's nothing now," he told her assuringly. Almana smiled with her eyes and bid us farewell. I looked over my shoulder as we continued and saw that a young man, presumably her son, had volunteered to carry the bucket for her. Suddenly, Kasiro stopped shuffling, so I looked toward the direction he was facing. "Home sweet home," he said, taking a soft, warm roll out of the basket and biting into it.
