Excerpt from a Larger Work
The moon shines down on the mutated creature ahead of me. My bow is at the ready, the arrow trained on the grotesque, gnarled head of the deformed deer, the infection clearly in the final stages within the animal. It won’t survive much longer, and although that would have given me pause early on in my life, it never does anymore. They’re becoming too rare to find at this stage of the mutations, and who knows when I’ll stumble across another mark like this.
I take a deep breath, in and out slowly, the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I release my arrow, my heart hammering in my chest.
Inches away from the target, the arrow is knocked away by a streak of fire, blasting the arrow into smithereens and startling the mutated creature. The screech from its lungs makes me cover my ears, and it immediately darts further into the forest, screeching all the way. I curse and whirl around, aiming my bow towards the opposite side of the path, to the other hill across from the one I’m perched on.
“Show yourself! Now. You’ve just cost me a meal on my table tonight, and if you-”
“Oh, little dove.” A voice, accompanied by a giggle, floats from within the trees. My jaw sets as the shadowy figure reveals itself soon after, sparks of fire on their fingertips.
“Amara,” I say through clenched teeth. “What is the meaning of this?”
Amara tilts her head at me, her hood falling down to reveal her long black hair, her red eyes boring into me.
“Hunting, little dove. The same as you, of course.” Amara says.
“I highly doubt that. This is my mark and my mark alone. And it’s Renna—I told you not to call me that ridiculous nickname.”
“Of course, of course.” She waves a hand to dismiss my words as she makes her way down the hill to the forest path. I keep my bow trained on her all the while, narrowing my eyes as she brushes her fingers along the Evermist flowers surrounding the path.
“Perhaps we can make a deal, hm?” She says. “It is my mark too, after all.”
“Stop the games, Amara.” I bite back. “The Witch of Aramoor Forest and an Elven hunter making a deal? I have no time for your tricks, witch.”
Amara sighs and looks back at me, her left hand still sparking with the glow of fire.
“You leave me no choice, then.” She says.
Her hand conjures up a full flame, and I gasp as she shoots it at me. It narrowly misses my left foot, my quick reflexes giving me a second chance at life by dodging out of the way of the blast. My heart lurches up into my throat at the scare.
“Amara!” I yell at her, but when I turn to where she once stood, I see nothing. I hear a rustle in the trees ahead, and I just barely see black fabric swishing through the leaves and branches, off in the direction the deer went. I curse and make haste to follow her.
She’s fast, most likely using a spell to make herself even faster as we weave and twist through the gnarled branches of the forest. I keep my eyes trained on her black robes in front of me, locked on the chase.
“It’s mine, Amara!” I veer off the path we’ve taken to flank around her on a different dirt path to the right. It’s still within distance but gives me enough space to run alongside her rather than behind her. Her head shoots to the right. She sees me, and I take pride in the slight shock in her eyes when she notices how fast and nimble I’ve become over the years. I smirk at her, but then her jaw sets and her eyes harden into a determined glare, her hand conjuring up more flames.
“Not anymore, little dove!” She calls in a dark voice.
I grunt as she throws another streak of fire my way. I drop into a kneel, sliding along the dirt to avoid the blast, the flames just barely singing the top of my hair that’s pulled into a long braid down my back. I shake it off, ignoring the searing pain in my knees—scratched and bloodied, my hunting garments shredded—and bouncing myself back up, continuing the race to the mark.
“What do you even need it for?” I realize it’s impractical to have this conversation while running and jumping through the forest, but I suppose it’s better late than never.
Another fireball flies in my direction, but my dodge isn’t fast enough. I cry out in pain as it grazes my left arm, the twist of my body not enough to avoid the blast. Despite the burn across my arm and the pain in my feet from the chase, I continue running. I won’t let her win.
“That’s for me to know,” she says, readying another flame. “And for you to never find out.”
I quickly ready my bow, grabbing an arrow from my quiver. It’s difficult to aim due to the pace we’ve set, but I need to try. I can’t keep having her lob fire at me—one of these times, I know I won’t be so lucky as to just get a graze. Before Amara can send the fire my way, I aim my bow and arrow and send it flying toward her. I curse when she twists her body out of the way, as if my movements were predictable.
I’m about to ready another arrow when she throws another ball of fire toward me, catching me off guard again. I cry out when it hits my leg, sending me to the forest floor in a single second. I topple over, tumbling and rolling through the dirt, leaves, and foliage, coming to a stop with a series of scratches and bruises littering my skin. My leg is in agony where the searing pain of the burn is located, my shin sporting a disgusting blackish shade as a result.
“It’s been fun, darling!” I hear her call back to me with a light giggle in the distance, more akin to a cackle.
I grit my teeth and attempt to haul myself up. Amara is long gone when I look around, only the sounds of the birds flying overhead accompany me. With the speed she was going, I know she’s most likely reached the deer by now. I try to maneuver onto my knee, and although I’m successful, it doesn’t hurt any less. I look down at my shin to survey the damage again, shaking my head and letting out a slow breath. She got me good—it’s a third-degree, no doubt, and in my heart, I know that I need medical attention immediately. The closest healer is a village not far off from the forest, but even then, it’s at least another hour of walking to find it, and who knows how long until I’m fully treated.
Walking away means giving up the chase, giving up the fight.
Renna Vanelis doesn’t give up.
I tear some fabric from my tunic, grunting as I wrap up my leg to the best of my ability. Although I’m not a healer, I know enough to wrap up the burn and make sure it’s not so exposed. I force myself to my feet, looking around for my bow that must have been thrown in my tumble.
I find it a few paces away, thankfully not broken, and I limp over to it. I pick it up, and with a quick check to make sure my arrows are still intact in my quiver, I set off in the direction of the deer. I’m limping. I’m exhausted. I’m angry—a wonderful combination of emotions that give me a reason to keep pushing forward despite the pain.
Amara is there when I break out from the trees and into a clearing, her black robes contrasting the bright sun rays streaming down on us. I narrow my eyes and grip my bow. I’m ready to continue the battle for as long as necessary to stake my claim on this mark and be done with it all, but Amara surprises me when she simply holds up a hand, not looking at me, but knowing I’m there. She’s staring at the other end of the clearing, and when I follow her gaze, I gasp.
Within the bushes where the deer’s head rustles around, there are two smaller lumps of brown and white. Two fawns.
The deer reproduced…?
That’s not possible.
“That leg needs treatment, little dove.” Amara’s playful tone distracts me from the family of deer, shaking me out of my shock.
Her tone puts me on edge. I raise my bow, grabbing an arrow from my quiver. Amara tilts her head, and although she remains transfixed with the deer family ahead of us, she seems to know what I’ve done—the choice I’ve made—as if she has eyes on the back of her head.
“Walk away,” I say.
“I’m afraid I cannot,” she replies.
“Enough of this, then.” I spit out the words like venom, and I pull my arm back in a quick motion, sending an arrow right for the back of her head.
It sails right through her.
“No.”
The apparition fades away after my arrow pierces it, and I’m too caught up in the revelation that I don’t realize what’s coming until it’s too late. White hot pain shoots through my right side, and I cry out, falling to my knees on the ground. A light hum floats to my ears as I look down to my side, a hand is pressed there and flowing red energy seeps into my clothes, into my skin, into my body.
“You—” I look up at Amara’s face, her red eyes twinkling in what seems to be delight. I try to say more, but the burning, the heat, the unbearable pain from her hand intensifies as she presses it into my side harder. A strangled cry falls from my lips, and I double over on the ground, contorted in such a way that causes even more pain.
“My, my, my.” I hear from above me. “Such a shame. I thought the Vanelis’ were the most talented hunters in the forest.”
I squirm, but it’s not enough to break free; her presence and her touch too strong.
“It was lovely catching up today, little dove. Perhaps our next meeting won’t be so…hostile,” Amara whispers in a low voice, her fingers starting to dig into my skin.
I whimper, feeling tears collect in my eyes. I can’t even speak. The words that I want to say and the curses I want to shout die on my lips.
“Goodbye, Renna.”
The pain in my side dissipates as her hand leaves my body, but the aftermath is just as worse. I hear faint footsteps. I hear the cry of the deer ahead of me. I hear that same familiar giggle. But all I can do is curl my body on the ground, my breaths shaky. I shake my head—disbelief and anger, my only friends.
When I manage to look up, my vision is blurry, and Amara, the deer, and the fawns are gone.
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