Page 4 of Eluvonia
Reaching over my shoulder, I pull an arrow from my quiver, the movement smooth, practiced.
The familiar weight of it steadies me as I nock it against the bowstring, positioning it between my fingers with ease.
I exhale, drawing back.
The muscles in my arms and shoulders tighten with the motion, a satisfying burn that I’ve come to rely on. I angle the bow carefully, lining up the shot, my focus narrowing until the world fades into nothing but the deer and the space between us.
A beat of silence.
I release.
The arrow slices through the air, nearly silent. It finds its mark, sinking into the deer’s right shoulder with a sharp, sickening sound. The animal jerks, its eyes going wide with shock and pain. It stumbles forward, legs buckling, and thenit collapses with a heavy thud against the forest floor.
I don’t move right away.
My fingers remain curled around the bowstring, my breath held tight in my chest. That familiar weight settles over me, cold and unshakable.
The guilt.
It never truly leaves, only grows heavier with each kill.
Leynard steps closer, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening.
“Good shot, Aer,” he says quietly.
The warmth in his voice is a small thing, but it takes the edge off the hollow feeling in my chest. Just a little.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Thanks.”
Leynard raises two fingers to his lips and lets out a sharp, high-pitched whistle. The sound carries through the trees, cutting through the eerie silence.
A few moments pass, and then I hear it.
Rustling. Coming from behind me.
I turn slowly, every muscle in my body tightening, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Two almost identical figures burst through the brush, their hushed argument slicing through the silence. My muscles tense for only a moment before recognition settles in, easing the tight coil in my chest.
“Why would you even think that?” Oryn, the eldest by mere minutes, demands. His ice-blue eyes flick to his brother, frustration etched into the sharp planes of his face. His dark-blond hair is damp with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead.
Bryn, his ever-grinning counterpart, tosses his almost golden-blond hair out of his eyes and shrugs. “Because it’sthe truth?” His voice carries a playful lilt, and the smirk tugging at his lips only deepens when Oryn scowls.
“Enough,” Leynard mutters, stepping forward with a glare that could cut stone. His brown eyes darken with irritation as he levels a look at the twins. “Let’s get this over with. I don’t want to be out here any longer than necessary.”
Bryn snickers and holds up his hands in mock surrender, while Oryn simply nods, ever the stoic one.
I sling my bow over my back, adjusting the strap across my chest as the twins move to the deer, their movements practiced and efficient as they begin field-dressing it. The metallic scent of blood fills the air, mixing with the damp earth beneath us.
“Alright,” I say, adjusting my weight as the twins finish their work. “Let’s get this back to the caves.”
Bryn and Oryn huff as they haul the deer’s weight onto their shoulders. Bryn grins through the strain. “Esra’s going to lose her mind. She’s been harping on us about bringing in a deer for weeks.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. Esra, ever the relentless one.
Leynard moves closer, his presence solid beside me. “Ready?” His voice is softer now, almost careful.
I meet his gaze, nodding. But something in the way he lingers, the way his eyes search mine, makes my chest tighten with unease.
