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Remember.1
I could hear the arrows whizzing past my face, over my head, behind me. Each thunk of arrows hitting the barks of the trees around me was enough to keep me moving. It was very apparent I was being hunted. The only thing I could do was run and I ran as fast as I could, because I knew I had no other choice. I couldn't remember how long I ran, my heart pumping, my breath shortening. I didn't dare look around me.
I cursed and stopped. I nearly tripped on something hidden in the snow, something large and unforgivable. I managed to catch my step. I caught my breath and paused, listening. I also knew that I was dead. I knew it was coming; I knew the rhythm, the music. It was as familiar to me as breathing. I knew where the hunter was and I knew he wanted to kill me. But I refused.
I turned my head and my hand automatically shot up to reach for the final arrow. I felt my hand grip the shaft tight as I gasped. The sharpened tip of the arrow was just a breath away. In one movement, I twisted away, my back safe against the trunk of a tree. Gasps were leaving my body in quick succession, so hard, my chest was hurting and my heart was pounding through my ears.
I looked down at my hands. I recognised this arrow, I didn't know how, but I remembered it. The tip was sharp and unsurpassably crafted, beautiful silver writing had wrapped itself around the long, smoothly carved wood, a language that was fafamiliar, but also unrecognizable. A single, long and delicate white feather finished its end. How I knew, I couldn't remember. Who I was, where I was. I couldn't remember.
I swallowed my breathing and tried to calm myself and as I did I let out a sharp inhale between my teeth from pain. My hand was bleeding. I stared at it, my eyebrows furrowed as I followed the red stream that was slowly flowing down my arm. I swallowed again, pushing the pain away from my immediate thoughts. I had to realise my hunter was still out there and I doubt I had much time. However, this was pushed back by the more immediate wondering doubt that was lingering.
I closed my eyes briefly. I opened them again before turning my head to peer out around the tree but before I could, I was met with another tip of an arrow, but it was not loose, but knocked. I stared at the tip, so very close. The arrow was very much like the one I held in my hands. I saw more of the beautiful characters I recognised around the shaft, but still could not read it.
I also knew the danger, but I did not feel scared. I felt calmer than I had since...I could not remember, not so long ago. For strange reasons, unbeknowest to me, I thought it was better to see the weapon that would murder me, then not know of it. I let out a slow breath, the cold air capturing it as my eyes watched it, following my warm breath until it disappeared.
My eyes found the hunter. His face was almost hidden under his white hood, but I could see his thin lips and dark grey eyes. I did not feel surprised, although, the reason for my awareness was foreign. The hunter's large and steady hands were holding a silver bow bent so far back, it looked as if the weapon would break. If the hunter were to release, my body would not survive the impact against the tree behind me. My eyes caught the lavish branch-like writing encircled around the bow, eventually forming a depiction of the Goddess of this hunter's tribe. An almost invisible string was holding the arrow in place, just waiting for me to make a single, false move. Gripping the arrow tightly in my hand, I did the only thing I could think of.
"Hello."
I cursed and stopped. I nearly tripped on something hidden in the snow, something large and unforgivable. I managed to catch my step. I caught my breath and paused, listening. I also knew that I was dead. I knew it was coming; I knew the rhythm, the music. It was as familiar to me as breathing. I knew where the hunter was and I knew he wanted to kill me. But I refused.
I turned my head and my hand automatically shot up to reach for the final arrow. I felt my hand grip the shaft tight as I gasped. The sharpened tip of the arrow was just a breath away. In one movement, I twisted away, my back safe against the trunk of a tree. Gasps were leaving my body in quick succession, so hard, my chest was hurting and my heart was pounding through my ears.
I looked down at my hands. I recognised this arrow, I didn't know how, but I remembered it. The tip was sharp and unsurpassably crafted, beautiful silver writing had wrapped itself around the long, smoothly carved wood, a language that was fafamiliar, but also unrecognizable. A single, long and delicate white feather finished its end. How I knew, I couldn't remember. Who I was, where I was. I couldn't remember.
I swallowed my breathing and tried to calm myself and as I did I let out a sharp inhale between my teeth from pain. My hand was bleeding. I stared at it, my eyebrows furrowed as I followed the red stream that was slowly flowing down my arm. I swallowed again, pushing the pain away from my immediate thoughts. I had to realise my hunter was still out there and I doubt I had much time. However, this was pushed back by the more immediate wondering doubt that was lingering.
I closed my eyes briefly. I opened them again before turning my head to peer out around the tree but before I could, I was met with another tip of an arrow, but it was not loose, but knocked. I stared at the tip, so very close. The arrow was very much like the one I held in my hands. I saw more of the beautiful characters I recognised around the shaft, but still could not read it.
I also knew the danger, but I did not feel scared. I felt calmer than I had since...I could not remember, not so long ago. For strange reasons, unbeknowest to me, I thought it was better to see the weapon that would murder me, then not know of it. I let out a slow breath, the cold air capturing it as my eyes watched it, following my warm breath until it disappeared.
My eyes found the hunter. His face was almost hidden under his white hood, but I could see his thin lips and dark grey eyes. I did not feel surprised, although, the reason for my awareness was foreign. The hunter's large and steady hands were holding a silver bow bent so far back, it looked as if the weapon would break. If the hunter were to release, my body would not survive the impact against the tree behind me. My eyes caught the lavish branch-like writing encircled around the bow, eventually forming a depiction of the Goddess of this hunter's tribe. An almost invisible string was holding the arrow in place, just waiting for me to make a single, false move. Gripping the arrow tightly in my hand, I did the only thing I could think of.
"Hello."
