LITTLE THINGS - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

The buck stood next to the bush, teasing berries off its branches. It was thornier than it would have preferred, but the fruit was worth the effort.

Another branch got hooked in its antlers. Sharp leaves poked its scalp and it snorted, shaking the branch off. The leaves were too waxy, and grass was sparse in this section of the woods, but the berry bushes were plentiful and heavy with fruit. A leaf pricked its nose and it drew back swiftly, backing up in surprise.

Where its head had been just a moment before, something thin and fast passed right in front of its eyes, and the deer startled, rearing up on its hind legs to dance back a few steps. When it came back down, another arrow whizzed overhead, brushing against the animal’s horns. It wanted to run, but it couldn’t tell where the missiles were coming from, so there was the risk it would go the wrong way. Also, there were still many berries and it was still hungry.

A third arrow finally hit it in the side, and it barked in fright. The wound was shallow, so it was unhindered when it tried to flee.

Unfortunately for the deer, it chose the wrong direction to flee in, and no sooner did it jump over the bushes to run did something small and limber fling itself across its back.

The deer’s assailant wrapped her arms around its neck, holding on for dear life as it bucked and brayed, desperate to get her off.

Another arrow struck true, this time much deeper into its side, and the animal jerked to the side, crashing into a tree and falling over. Its assailant fell off as well, rolling to her feet and pulling a knife from her boot. The deer’s flailing hooves knocked in out of her grip and she hissed, grasping her hand in pain.

The buck staggered to its feet. It was hurt and it didn’t know what was happening. Its eyes rolled madly in its head before focusing on her. The deer growled, lowering its head and pointing its antlers at her.

She gasped, pulling an arrow from her quiver. She fumbled, dropping it, and took a step back to put some space between her and it only to trip on an exposed root.

It pawed at the ground, preparing to charge--

THUNK

--and fell to the ground, an arrow lodged between its eyes. It fell to the ground in front of her.

“Amelia!”

Amelia gasped, trying to steady her breath. “I-I’m okay, Dad! You got him!”

Her dad emerged from the bushes, looking tense. It was only after he pulled Amelia to her feet and looked her over that he relaxed. “Are you okay? Nothing broken?”

She rubbed her hurt hand and flexed her fingers. She winced. “I don’t think it’s broken, but it hurts. Other than that--”

“We’ll let Madam Rosie take a look at you when we get home.”

“Dad--”

He talked over her. “I knew it was too early to take you hunting, what were you thinking? Trying to ride a deer? You could have gotten hurt!”

Amelia pushed him off of her with a frown. “Dad, I’m not a baby, I’m seventeen! And I’m not made of glass either,” she said, holding up her hand. “I got kicked by a deer and I’m fine!”

“That looks awfully red for fine, dear,” her dad said crossly. “When I was seventeen I was still a baby.”

“You were a toddler, and anyway you’re an elf. I’m only half.” She tucked her hair behind her just-barely-pointed ears. If you didn’t know what to look for she could almost pass for human.

Her dad’s frown deepened, then he suddenly smirked. “Guess that makes you twice a toddler, then.” He pulled her back in to hug her, easily ignoring her struggles.

“Daaaad, stop it!”

He let her go and let out a sigh. “Sorry, sorry. I know you’re not a baby, dear.” He started to say something, then stopped and shook his head. Instead he looked over their kill. “Alright…” He pulled the arrow out of the deer’s head. The head snapped off. “Tch. No reusing this one.”

“These two are salvageable,” Amelia said, successfully extricating the two from its side.

“Good, good.”

“Is it that big a deal? We can always get more arrows.”

Her dad shook his head. “They’re getting more expensive. The soldiers at the wall keep buying them up before anyone else can get to them. We need to conserve as much as we can.” He took the arrows from her and wiped them down with his shirt. “Good shots by the way. That first try was bad luck, but it was risky to go for a headshot while it was reared up like that.”

“Yes Dad.”

“Here we go…” The elf bent down and hefted the deer onto one shoulder with a grunt. “Let’s get back to the camp. This big boy should put us over our quota, so it’s time to head home.”

“Oh!” Amelia perked up. “You go ahead. Let me see if I can find those arrows I missed!”

Her dad frowned. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to--”

“I’ll be fine, Dad,” she promised. “It’s only two arrows, and if I don’t find them right away I’ll come right back.”

He hesitated a moment longer, but Amelia’s pleading face made him nod. “Okay, but be quick about it. There aren’t supposed to be any monsters in these woods, but you can never be completely certain.”

Amelia saluted and then rushed back the way they came.

He watched her, concerned, and forced himself to turn around.

“She’ll be okay, Llew, she’s seventeen. Which is a perfectly capable age for a human, even though it isn’t for an elf at all…” He grimaced. “Oak, why couldn’t she take more after me instead of her mother? She still feels so young…”

-----------------------------

Amelia found the first arrow quickly enough, stuck in a tree. The arrowed head was a little blunted from the impact, but it was nothing a few minutes against the grindstone wouldn’t fix. The second arrow, by some amazing luck, went long and killed a deeply unfortunate rabbit.

She felt a little bad about that--rabbits were cute--but still, how lucky could she be? It absolutely made up for the rest of the hunting trip. Maybe she’d make a lucky rabbit’s foot out of it? Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. She put it in her satchel.

Amelia had been begging her dad to take her hunting for years. Practically ever since she could pick up a bow she’d wanted to go adventuring out in the woods with him, and he always said ‘no, you’re too young.’

Well, she finally managed to convince him to let her come, and it wasn’t the grand adventure she’d been expecting. Hunting, it turned out, wasn’t nearly as much tense chases and pitched struggle against nature as she expected. It was a whole lot of waiting, walking through the woods as slowly and quietly as possible, waiting, following invisible signs that she’d have been convinced Dad was making up if they didn’t keep leading to prey, waiting, and letting targets get away because it’s just not worth it to try and catch up to a sprinting deer.

It was fun, she guessed, and the tracking stuff was interesting to learn, but it still wasn’t what she expected.

Amelia counted the arrows in her quiver and frowned. “Twelve, thirteen, fourteen… I fired four and got two back, where’s--Oh!”

Right, the one the buck knocked out of her hand. She didn’t pick that one up again. Well, it should be easy to find.

She made her way back to where the deer fell, keeping an eye on the ground.

It wasn’t there.

“What?”

Amelia scattered some fallen leaves with her foot, hoping it just got covered up, but to no avail.

“But… Okay, let’s see, the deer was right here and I was standing right here. I dropped it there… Maybe I kicked it when I fell?”

With one finger she traced the path it might have taken, and finally spotted a metal glint under a flowering bush.

“There you are… huh?”

She crouched down to pick it up, but it… wasn’t one of hers. All of Amelia’s arrows were fletched with pigeon feathers, mostly blue and gray. This arrow’s feather was white. It was cruder, too, not entirely straight. The arrowhead looked like the ones from town, but it had been snapped off another shaft and then tied on to this one with red string.

This wasn’t one of her arrows. It wasn’t an arrow anyone from Oakwood would use, Mr. Fletcher wouldn’t have allowed it. So whose was it?

A memory tickled at her. She almost thought she’d seen something like this before. But whatever it was, it was escaping her.

Amelia shrugged and tucked the arrow into her quiver anyway. It wasn’t well made, but it might be useful in a pinch, and apparently every little bit counted.

“Amelia!” Dad called out. “You there?”

“I’m coming!”

Amelia hurried back to camp.

-------------

A few minutes after she left, the bushes rustled again.

“Greh, where is bush? There it is. Where is arrow? Need it.” It kicked leaves aside and growled. “Where’d it go? Need it!”

The small figure raised its head and sniffed. Its face wrinkled.

“Stinking elves.”

It sniffed again, and started moving.