Timestamp: 46th day of Winter 510
The next day, Loren found himself sitting on hillock in amongst several pine trees. His mother had provided him a large piece of white cotton cloth to conceal his location. Loren used pine pitch, dirt and other dark colored dyes to mar the white cloth in order to subdue it somewhat. Rarely do you see a pristine white scene without something dark. On top of his clothing he drizzled doe urine in different places. The urine provider had been in heat.
Loren heard rustling nearby and slowly moved his head to the right. He firmly grasped the compound bow with his left hand. He wore a pair of half leather gloves. This allowed his finger tips exposed and able to tie knots, play the recorder and perform all those tasks that full gloves seem to interfere with. As he gazed down the shaft of the 36 inch white cedar arrow, he lined up on a large buck. It must have been well over 200 pounds. Loren counted eight points on the rack on its head. This was a majestic creature and would make a fine meal for his family for days to come. Loren pulled back on the bowstring and held his breath. The buck was sitting at about seventy yards away. Loren felt he had the stag sited in and let loose.
The arrow flew straight and true. It struck the deer across his back leaving a small laceration as it passed on landing somewhere beyond where the buck was standing. In no time at all the stag had leapt out of the area with its white tail flying behind it. Loren let out a sigh and plodded over to retrieve his arrow. 'That buck would have made a grand meal,' Loren thought to himself. 'I haven't seen one that large in years.'
After recovering his arrow, Loren moved through the mountains for a few hours and took up another spot. He'd seen tracks leading into an area where deer had been eating tufts of undergrowth. They pushed some of the snow away and nibbled at what was lying underneath. A few had nibbled on the growth of some trees.
He waited a few more hours and watched the sun pass lower in the western sky. It may have been a good time to start heading home. Just as he was about to do that very thing, he spied a beefy doe grazing. She appeared to be with child. It is never a good idea to take a doe, especially if she is bearing a fawn. Loren sighed and the doe's ears perked up. She stopped and stared at Loren. Loren remained frozen. They stared at each other for at least 15 minutes. It was as though the deer could not see him or wasn't sure what she was looking at.
As he waited, he caught sight of a six point buck moving closer to the doe. The doe had put her tail down and the buck was unaware a human hunter was in the area. The arrow was already notched. Slowly he raised the bow into the air and the notched arrow in his right hand to the fleshy part of his cheek. He gazed down the shaft and aimed a little lower than he had earlier this morning. Loren released the notch.
The buck stopped to chew on some greens hanging from a tree. His outstretched neck shown white for all to see. He was oblivious to his impending doom. The doe sense something was wrong and put her tail up just as the white cedar shaft impacted with the side of the young buck. The buck snorted and pawed the ground. The doe bolted away from the noise. The buck attempted to follow. He charged into the brush behind her. The arrow shaft snapped leaving half of it stuck inside and blood pouring from the wound.
Loren pulled the bow over his head and arm passed the string. He ran toward where he knew he had hit the deer. The exhilaration of the kill surged hot through his blood. He chased the deer for at least five hundred yards and found it moaning and snorting laying on the ground. The animal was not ready to give up his life yet. But the natural born Vanthan hunter was prepared to take it. He'd taken many with his father as a boy.
The buck bleated at him, snorted and dropped his head on the snow. He was too weak to put up a fight. His heart was slowing, but he was still very much alive. The steam pulsated slower and slower from his nostrils. Loren dropped to his knees and cradled the magnificent animal's head on his lap. He grabbed the bottom of his chin and pulled it skyward. With his hunting knife, he stabbed into the buck's neck. He pulled and cut along the side of the neck tearing flesh and ripping sinews. It was a slow and hard cut until he felt the warm liquid squirting into his hand. He pulled the knife away and watched the arterial spurt. The first clear stream shot out about four feet. Within a few minutes it slowed to a trickle from the open wound; the heart stopped.
Loren set about with the task of stripping the buck in the woods. He figured it weighed about 140 Lbs and with its vital organs removed, the weight had been reduced to about ninety or a hundred pounds. Loren pulled the stripped deer up over his shoulders, grasped the legs with both hands and began the journey back home.
He was excited about the hunt and about the kill. The fact that he missed the earlier much larger buck didn't detract from the day because as he considered it, in the end, he was carrying a much lighter source of food home.
He thought about the night before with Fiarra in front of the hearth. He thought about some of the things her parents said to him out of anger and fear. He thought about the things that his own parents screamed. 'Why was having a baby so important to them?' Loren thought to himself. 'Obviously there is the procreation of the species and having someone around to look after you when you get old. But we are young. There will be more time.'
The more Loren thought about it, the more he feared not being able to have a child. Yes, he tried to convince himself that it was not a major issue, but obviously to the parents it was. Deep down inside, he knew it was a major issue to him as well. He wished to have a son, so that he could pass on his knowledge of the forest, the bow, deer and the hunt. The hunt always excited Loren. Walking home with a catch on your back only made the day better because then you could show off the fruits of your labor. But for Loren, the hunt was more satisfying than the actual kill.
He arrived back at the cottage to find Fiarra standing outside waiting for him. He could see by the tracks on the ground that she had been pacing back and forth for quite some time. As he neared the cottage, she ran to him sobbing. He looked down at her; she was four inches shorter than he. "What is wrong?" he asked.
Fiarra didn't know how to tell him. She didn't know what to say. She was filled with dread and remorse for what she knew and kept secret from him. "Loren...."sob, sob, sob, "Loren,....there is something I must tell you."
"Can it wait? I'd like to hang this deer up in the shed."
"Yes, go take care of that first," she sobbed looking at the animal draped across his back. She returned to the interior of the cottage and continued to pace; her expression alternated between sadness and sobbing. He eyes reddened from rubbing and crying. They were watery and the eyes themselves were yellowish orange.
In a few minutes, Loren entered the home and looked at Fiarra. He removed his white coverall and cloak. He took off his boots and sat down. "What is so important to tell me? Why are you so sad?"
"My darling Loren," Fiarra got down on her knees and crawled between Loren's legs. She rested her elbows on his thighs. "There is a secret I have been holding onto for a few years and I have not told you." |