The hunter set out on his usual morning hunt. His dirt brown hair lazily combed down and his pale green eyes still showed signs of sleepiness. He went out early before the sun had even crept over the hills, so that he could have the meat early enough for his wife to make supper. Bless her, since she was the nearest matchmaker for miles she scarcely had a moment to herself.
She also seemed down. Her raven black hair outlined her face showing her features perfectly, and she would have been beautiful had her eyes not been so sad. They were so red from crying that you felt like crying just from looking upon them.
The job of the matchmaker is grueling work. Young girls leave their eyes puffed up with tears only to return years later with a child thanking her for the blessings the marriage brought.
This hunter felt sympathy for his young wife who had many tedious years to come. He knew he would have to watch as she became old before her time. Watch as dark circles begin to appear under her eyelids. Having to watch, without being able to do anything.
The cold winds roared as the young hunter made his way deep into the evergreen forest. But the deeper he journeyed the quieter it got. Soon all that he could hear was a small, faint breeze, like a child blowing in your ear. No sound was made by anyone except the hunter, and the wind. Crunch, crunch went the scarlet and golden autumn leaves under his soft deer skin boots.
The hunter hosted himself into a tall tree. There he could easily watch for prey that would become his supper. Quietly nestling himself into a comfortable position the hunter waited.
Later he spotted his prey. A young buck that seemed to have wander away from his herd. Quickly and swiftly the hunter jumped from the tree and pulled out an arrow. He had less than five seconds to aim. The hunter pulled back the string and sent the arrow flying.
The buck startled by the noise of the whizzing around looked up, only to have the arrow pierce him right in the neck. The hunter signed. He was glad when his prey died quietly, especially when they were so younger.
The hunter approached his prey, and gently pulled the arrow from the buck's neck. The buck took its final breaths and then was gone. It's spirit traveling to a place where he could roam free.
The hunter's least favorite part was here. The buck's blood dripped from the arrow onto the hunter hands, staining them with crimson red.
The hunter pulled a knife out of his pack and carefully began cutting the deer of his meat leaving the carcass for a hungry eagle or vulture. This was a horrible task that not many would do, but the young hunter did do he did not have to drag the buck into the town, which would just cause a commotion.
The hunter stuffed the dripping meat into a worn deerskin bag, which he slung around his shoulder. He looked at the sun. The sun was beginning to creep around the distant hills, turning the sky pink and yellow. The catch had been earlier than normal, so the hunter decided to journey deeper into the forest, hoping to snap something else.
The hunter had no such luck as no prey appeared and his traps were empty. Soon he neared the place where the forest melts into plains.
As the hunter started to turn around, he saw something lying on the ground in the middle of the plains. The hunter decided to see what it was.
What the hunter saw shocked him. There was a small girl who could not be more than one year of age, curled up in the fetal position. Her rich chocolate brown hair was scattered all over the place and her small eyes were closed. Her hand was near her mouth and she was sucking her thumb.
The child's left arm was bent at such an awkward angle that the hunter doubted it could ever be made correct. A long scar that seemed to be made by a claw was on her left cheek. The ruby red blood dripped down her cheek and it was though she was crying tears of blood.
The child wore a flimsy brown dress that could not keep anyone warm, even on a hot summer’s day. The hunter could see the small child shivering.
The hunter felt as though his prayers had been answered. He and his wife had been unable to have children and they had been praying for a child and here was their answer.
The hunter scooped up the young child, doing his best not to disturb her or hurt her more. Carefully he carried her though the forest of trees, to the village doctor.
When the man arrived at the doctor's home, the doctor, an elderly man of 60 with spacious white specks of hair and hazel eyes, was surprised. He knew everyone in the small village and he knew quite well that this particular man did not have a child, let alone any nieces and nephews of this age.
"What can I do to help you Tallon?" the doctor asked.
"It is not me you can help, but this young child. I found her abandoned on the edge of the plain this morning,"
The doctor studied the child. "I make no promises," was all he said letting them in. He lay the child down on the small bed inside the house.
"There is nothing I can do for that arm. It is bent beyond repair that is for sure. But I should have something for her cheek..." the old doctor said running to his cabinet mumbling something about parents.
He returned with a small aquamarine jar with a minuscule cork stopper. "This should take any poison out of the wound as well as help reduce swelling," the doctor pulled someone of the medicine out of the jar and gently dabbed it on the girl's cut. She seemed to sign in relief.
"I think it worked," the hunter said.
"As do I," the doctor said nodding, his face relaxing in relief. Then he went back to his cabinets and returned with a needle and thread.
"Now I need to stitch wound," he said. The doctor threaded the needle like he had a million times before, maybe he had, and quickly stitched up the wound.
"Doesn't that hurt?" the hunter asked.
"No, she's delirious. She can't tell. I suggest you fetch your wife do we can decide what to do with this child," the hunter nodded and ran home.
Soon the man returned with his wife. "Let me see the child," the wife said with a sense of urgency, panic, and pain all rolled into one.
The doctor led the woman to the back room where the child lay. The woman ran to her side and grasped her hand. "Oh how horrible it must have been to have been abandoned by one parents at such a young age and left for the dead. It is a good thing you found her when you did."
"Yes a very good thing, she did not have much life left when you brought her to me," the doctor said. "Now what are we to do with her? I warn you, she doesn't have that big of a chance of survival."
"We'll take her in of course. We have been praying for a child and this is our answer. She will be our daughter," the wife said quickly, not giving anyone else a chance to respond.
"Are you sure Adeline?" the hunter asked.
"Of course."
"I see then. Alright. She will have to stay here a few days to recover. I wonder if she remembers anything about her old life," the doctor said.
"We will see won’t we?" the hunter said.
"Yes we will. What shall you call her?" the doctor asked.
Before the hunter could even open his mouth, Adeline said, "Meia, Meia Amira. A strong princess. My daughter."
YOU ARE READING
Regoria in My Dreams
Roman pour AdolescentsMeet Meia, a 14 year old girl growing up during the middle ages, with a secret. She can control water. Hiding this secret from the peering eyes of her mother, and the rest of her village isn't always easy. Especially when one of the village members...