The Prophecy of The Stars

Chapter 1

"Mom, I'm going hunting."

"With who?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oscar," I replied.

"Take this." My mother grabbed a basket and filled it with sandwiches and fruits.

"I don't need it," I grumbled.

"Yes, you will." My mother's hazel eyes glanced at me, pausing to give me a look before she resumed filling the basket. "You two always go out hunting for hours. Your father worries you know?"

I watched her slender hands grab goods and place them in the basket. They were long and slender, callussed and smooth. They were not hands of a worker, but of a musician. When my mother finished she glanced up. Her smaller eyes were not small enough to hide the hazel that swam within golden brown and green. Every time I take a look at myself in the mirror, I wish I had more of her features.

"Thanks." I went over and grabbed the basket.

"Hey hey hey." My mother stopped me even as my foot was already turning towards the door. "You forgot something." She points to her cheek.

I hid my grimace and leaned over the counter to kiss my mother on the cheek.

"Bye mom."

"Bye Kiki."

I walked out the door. Oscar was standing by the doorframe, his stance protective and he was leering at my mother. His blue eyes flashing at my mother who stared right back at him, challenging him to say something. I grabbed his sleeve, meeting his icy stare and urged him away from my mother. I grabbed my bow and arrows from the shack behind the house. It was dirty, apart from the shiny arrows and polished bows that were shoved to the side of the shack.

Oscar grumbled under his breath. I could guess why.

"I'm sorry you have to accompany me," I sighed as I organized my bow and arrows. I had a total of five bows, three that I had won from a few competitions that my father had made my compete in. None of those were bows that I regularly used. They were too well made for my rough hands. The other two were more important to me.

One is the bow that I use most often when out hunting. It's the bow that I use to the most. The other is a bow that I refuse to use, and I refused my father to use it as well. The bow is a weapon that my grandmother had made. She was much more skilled at making bows that I was.

I gently dragged my fingers down the bow, feeling the wood, smooth and polished.

"What are you sorry for?"

I snapped out of my reverie and reached for the bow that was worn down and quickly grabbed a quiver.

"For my parents. For you to watch that, I'm sorry."

"You have no need to apologize." Oscar turned me around and held me at an arm's length. He looked at me, his blue eyes were soft. "Your parents don't bother me."

"Yeah, but I made you wait at the door, I could've asked you in so you could sit." I knew he wouldn't like that.

"Please, I would rather stay at the door, because they wouldn't touch you." He shook his head and grabbed my hand leading me out of the shack. "And I wouldn't want to be in there anyways."

He whistled for his bear. "But you have to tolerate them when they aren't even your family. You don't have to do that." I whistled for my leopard.

"Yes I do." I knew Oscar was looking at me as I watched my snow leopard make an appearance. "If I wasn't there... what do you think they would do to you?"