Journey of the Horn

Chapter 4

The next morning I woke up and the snow now came up to my ankle. Which on a satyr is higher than you'd think. The joint in our legs that many believe to be our knees are actually our ankles. We usually just are to tired of correcting people that we don't do so. I got out of bed and the stone floor of the castle was still as cold as ice. My room was made fully of stone, and had a balcony looking over the forest. The windows were made of pained glass that was now frosted over in the corners next to the wood design. And all that was in there was my bed, a chest for belongings, a fireplace with a rug in front of it and the spokes, and a rack for my weapons and shield. I know it's not the type of room you would expect a prince to have, but I liked it that way. It made things easier to find and if anything got stolen by my siblings I will very quickly know about it.

I got out of bed and the floor was cold on my sole. But I got up and started for the stairs. I headed for the kitchen to grab a bite to eat. When I entered our head chef Levimore (Lev-i-more) was ordering people around making breakfast for all of the little kids and my parents. Us older kids usually will get our own food, we really only eat what we could make or scavenge at dinner. I grabbed a few Oatcakes and headed out the back door with my bow and quiver on my back and my sword at my side. I needed to get the trial out of my head and hunting always seemed to calm me. It was something about being among the trees and being able to just sit in the snow without anyone to drown out the beauty of nature. I also wore a red scarf around my neck to fight at least a little against the cold. Satyrs have higher body temperatures than many, that is one of the reasons we are able to live up here where many would consider it to be too cold to even venture.

I went deep into the forest that spread all across the mountain range. Many of my people even believe it is to dangerous where I usually go, but it is also where the game knows it can hide. They say it is way to full of rocks and cliffs. I think that is what makes it fun. For me it is more about the tracking than it is about the kill, and when I do manage to kill something I not only use every part of it but I also show it as much respect as I can. I came to a ravine with a taller wall of rock on one side covered in snow. Unlucky for me I was on top of the shorter wall. I put my bow on my back with the string going diagonally across my chest. I backed away from the cliff about 20-30 feet. I took a deep breath with one foot forward and the other back further. I placed my hands in the snow as if waiting for my mark, and after a moment of staring and calculating the distance and velocity. I took off in a sprint then into a jump slamming into the cliff on the other side and took a moment to catch my breath before climbing up the almost vertical wall of rock. With my hands and hooves occasionally slipping on the snow and ice. I loved the challenge these mountains brought along with their majestic beauty.

I flopped on top of the rock wall not even breathing hard. Us satyrs used our hooves to our advantage, or at least I did. Our hooves are about the same size and shape of a horse's but had a split down the middle like a goats. That split made it easier for us to grip rocks, therefore making us great climbers. Although some didn't utilize this, I sure did alongside my brothers and friends. I got up leaving an impression in the snow, not only of myself but also of my quiver, arrows, and weapons. I was almost to Mt. Sneachd, the largest mountain in Endalashia. That is where all the big game is. I started to walk again but I was only a few steps in when I heard a low growl.

I whipped my bow off my back and loaded it, pointing it in the direction of the growl. I aim my bow and at the tip of my arrow was pointed at a large black figure with white spots that shimmered in the light of the sun. I knew exactly what it was. It was a Ursa Major, my only hopes were either to kill it with a blow to the eye and heart or to hide and pray it doesn't find me. Both very unlikely of success. I dropped down into the snow behind some bushes and hoped I was up wind from it, and of course I checked the direction of the frosted wind. It blew towards the Ursa as if it hated me and the Ursa was its minion. It sniffed the air. It looked like a Black Bear but with a longer tail and white spots that shimmered like stars. I prayed and prayed it wasn't hungry. But sure enough it roars and starts to sprint for me.

I drew my bow and shot it, just barely missing its eye. I quickly drew another arrow and shot again, this time not missing my target. It roared in pain when my arrow punctured its eye and it bled silver blood. But no matter its pain it continued to run toward me. I went to draw another arrow but all the arrows fell out of my quiver. I dropped to the ground in a panic and searched the snow for my arrows. Right before the Ursa lunged at me I managed to locate a arrow and whip around stabbing it in the heart with the arrow. But not without a small price. I let out a small yell of pain, I hefted the Ursa off of me flopping it in the snow. Sure enough I had a giant claw mark going diagonally across my left pectoral muscle. Blood streamed down my chest, the only way I could tell the difference between mine and the Ursa's was the fact that its was a shining silver and mine a bold, bright red.