There was a criminal in the King’s wood. The sacred trees that bordered a kingdom of men stood proud and full of life, as they had for generations. None but the royal family and the castle guard were allowed to set foot in this sacred forest. Tonight a wanted murderer advanced through deep snow in hopes of finding isolation. He always felt he was being watched, and never went more than a few paces without looking over his shoulder. He couldn’t afford to be followed. He was always being hunted.
-
Anteel found a fresh set of tracks in the King’s wood, and couldn’t resist following them. He would eat well this month if he found the prey he sought. He did not enjoy his job.
He was a young man, despite the crease that found home on his brow, or the hen scratches around his eyes. A neat trimmed beard that formed a characteristic point was riddled with far more grey than most men his age. The only thing that would cause an onlooker to think he wasn’t in his decline was his young eyes. So full of life and awareness. Neither orange, nor brown, but the color of a pane of honey stretched with the sun at its back, and with as much luminescence. He wasn’t tall, nor was he short. He wasn’t thin but he did enjoy his sweetbreads. Many things about him were average, but once you saw his face you couldn’t forget it. This was his 5th year in this land, and his 27th year on this world.
He knew how to track well, and keep himself silent, even in the autumn when the fallen leaves crackled underfoot like dry wood on the hearth. He could spot a crow flying in a rainstorm in the dead of night. He could single out the fattest grape in a vast vineyard and pierce it with a bolt from his crossbow. At least that’s what the boys at the tavern always barked on about. The prey stood no chance. They rarely did.
He followed the tracks for half a league. Slowly and quietly. Every step. At one point he thought he had lost them, an impressive feat for the hunted (considering there was a fresh bed of snow up to a man’s navel). It took little time for him to recover the path though. He could tell his prey was growing more fearful as the tracks became clearer and clearer. He decided it was time to load his crossbow. Never had dry wood and cold metal springs made less noise.
He held his position near the base of a fat tree, slowly lowering his weight into the deep snow, with his weapon loaded and leveled. His target was near…he could almost hear another heartbeat and taste the breath still floating in the cold air. How could they hide so well from him? Where did the tracks vanish? A single furneedle dropped to the snow not a meter from where he crouch. He suddenly felt quite green.
No sooner than he had realized the fat tree he hid under was the same tree his prey had climbed, he dove away from his hole. Turning his body in the air he landed on his back as he saw the angry form diving from a low branch towards him. A cloud of powdery white snow exploded as his body hit the ground and from it came a snap. A speeding metal bolt tore out from the cloud and struck his enemy square in the neck. The writhing from landed hard in the snow and danced the dance of death until the life left its twisted body. The last of the exited snowflakes flittered to the ground.
Several minuets passed before Anteel got to his feet and examined his fine work. He couldn’t lie to himself. Every ounce of skill that went into that shot was shoved aside and outdone by pure luck. He knew what he had to do now.
His hands went to work the moment his curved blade slipped out of his boot. Blood painted a troubling landscape on the forest’s white canvas. He would be a rich man for this. He held up his dripping bloody prize. The sparkling white pelt of the rarest and more elusive snow leopard. It was speckled with tiny black eyes that made it a piece of art in itself. Any lord would pay a gunny of silver for such a fine piece of trophy. He would make good use of the meat and bones too. He didn’t care for cat meat, but a man has to eat. He didn’t enjoy his job.
The criminal left the King’s wood using the same path he had made entering it, with a well wrapped bundle over his shoulder and a smile on his face. Men who are wanted for murder can rarely be counted on to change their ways, but in Anteel’s opinion, poaching was something he was much more suited to.
Indeed Anteel has made some bad choices in his time, not that he truly regrets a one...but he knows that his temper and sometimes too-quick thinking gets him in trouble. The road he has traveled ages a man, and makes him tough as cured hide. He has no shortage of courage, street smarts, or even skill yet trust is something he has in short supply.
No comments:
Post a Comment