#jor

Birds sang, coyotes screamed, vines looped through trees, and bugs called out into the sky. The sun dragged itself just over the horizon. Air heavy with the leftover rain from last week's storm and smoldering sunlight filtering through the thick canopy overhead. A maze of cracking twigs and twisting tree trunks. The jungle. My home. Almost more home than home itself.

The knowledge that my family needed me nipped at my heels and drove me onward after the Barrow Deer as it bounded over a log, an involuntarily curse hissing through my teeth as I re-strung my arrow and pulled the string taut, crawling through the foliage after my prey.

Like a hungry wolf, my eyes locked onto its face, making sure the wind fought in my favor and my steps remained light in the wild where I belonged, silent and still.

Here it didn't matter over my words, or my face, nor my scars or my name, all that mattered was my ears, my eyes, and my bow. I felt like some sort of apex predator. Losing myself to the forest and the thrill of the hunt as it wandered on and I kept patiently after it.

I took in a deep breath. The hot jungle air filled my lungs with a quiet flare as I crept forward, the tension like flames licking around my neck. If I failed this, they might go hungry. The traps had a less than lucky chance of snaring anything, and I couldn't let Alyra and Dad go hungry because of a stray shot.

Now that it crossed my mind, me too. I didn't want to go hungry either. Since the fight, dad knew he wouldn't walk, and Alyra had been born with a collapsing core, her soul struggling. She could barely think many times, let alone move at more than a crawl for long periods of time. I was their only hope for survival.

Townsfolk called us cursed. Thinking about it set my blood to a boil. But I let my rage drive me after the beast. Its life was mine. Its bones belonged in my arsenal, and out here, it traded its life for my family. I couldn't give less of a damn about morality now.

The jungle changed a man. Since I'd been here, life or death became my mind outside of my family. Punch or bleed. Let them deface those I adored with every inch of my heart, or shut them up with my knuckles and a well-timed steel toe.

No one hurt my family. Not them. Not this animal. And its continued life hurt them by prospect. I closed one eye, comparing the shots with my vision and the breeze as it approached the river.

The primal lust for blood rose within my chest as the knowledge of the stakes overcame me and I darted forward, light as I could manage over the leaves. Its head lowered for a drink.

I loosed my arrow, the string vibrated up my arm and resonated through me. Connecting me to the world of the creature for just a moment. Need and desperation for life, terror at the prospect of a stalking predator. A moment of blind horror that I had failed to recognize danger.

The arrow pierced its eye.

It took a minute to die.

It bucked in pain for a moment, a deep sort of shriek I knew well from every beating I'd given those fool town boys for casting a wrong glance my way. Desperation. A plea for mercy.

But when your grave meant the survival and potential thriving of my blood, there was no mercy to be given.

Its blood clouded the water as it fell with a thud onto the muddy grass. I wove through the ferns until I was sure no cat or creature would contest me for my catch.

The sweet relief of victory washed through me like the sting of rain in a desert. I'd been trailing the thing since sunrise, and now, I had guaranteed dinner on the table for another few weeks.

But the relief lasted only a moment. Then the work began once more. I couldn't relax just yet, I still swam in the depths of the deep woods. Spiders and snakes watched me from the shadows, and much larger, deadlier predators loomed just beyond my senses, waiting for the opportune moment to swallow both me and my catch whole in one pounce.

The real difficulty came in hauling this majestic creature back to town without contest. The worms wanted a taste. But I wouldn't release it so easily. We needed it, and I would fight tooth and nail to protect what belonged to me.

The forest was my home, I spent more time here than in my bed across from my little sister, or laughing with my father. But it remained my biggest adversary. In that one moment I felt less than anyone, not a person, only an animal. I hated the feeling. But I had to let myself fall into it in order to do what needed to be done.

My prey was still warm as I took the two hind legs and began back the direction I came. I grabbed a large drooping leaf on my way.

But the warmth rapidly faded with time until I made it within sight of the bridge. I stopped and slipped my reliable knife from its sheath and hacked away the underbrush that encroached on my territory. Once it was gone, I got to work on butchering the poor beast in a way I could easily carry it. Blood soaked my hands as I worked as quickly as I was able. The cuts weren’t exactly clean, but they would do. I was more mindful of the shivering feeling of watchful eyes down my spine. I removed as much of the skin and bones as I could to make the most of my limited carrying capacity.

The bag was one of my favorites. Mostly waterproof and burned with a few simple runes to keep the interior sealed. I’d won it from a travelling great huntsman when I’d won against him in a fight. He’d said no blades. My bow wasn’t a blade, and besides, he’d cheated first when he tried to hit me in the head with a stick. It was the bastard’s own damn fault for underestimating me simply because of my age.

I scraped the bones off with the cleanest parts of the fur and flung some of the extra fat and ligaments back into the woods for the cats and jungle wolves to fight over as I wrapped the remaining bits of meat and bones in the leaf and tucked under my arm. Useful for Marrow, and my father was always excited about his little garden when I brought them to him.

On my way to the bridge, I spotted a few yellow fruits in the tree above me. I paused. Starfruit. Alyra loved those. But I needed to get home, the forest couldn’t claim me before I made it to provide for them. I stood there for a moment, deliberating over it before I came to a conclusion. Dammit. If it made her smile at least once, that was good enough for me to go on another hunting trip a few days earlier. And If I managed to get enough, I could sell a few for a bit extra. Maybe then I could get the salt we needed for curing the meat, and possibly a pair of new boots without ruining my saving plans.

I slung the bag around my shoulder and threw out a few of the smaller scraps, shoving the bones in as best as I could to free my hands. I scanned the tree for a way up. A rock to the left attached to a rather loose web of vines. I pulled out my knife and tossed it into reverse grip, my thumb at the bottom as I formulated my plan in my head, carefully laying out the steps.

Was this really such a good idea? I shook my head. No. I had stored up enough money that the last of this could get us to the edge of having enough for the journey. Alyra only had so much time, and by the gods, I was almost there. I beat back my inhibitions and set my plan into motion.

A simple hop brought me to the point of the rock, where I studied the vines. A simple thrust of the blade sliced deep into the softer lengths of living wood. I scrambled up, using the vines as a sort of net to support the remainder of weight the knife couldn't handle. They were slippery, swinging away from me, and occasionally causing me to almost fall. I re-planted the knife. The lowest branch swung just a few feet beyond my reach.

Caution to the damn wind.

I jumped. A moment in the air and the snap jolting up my arms as I barely caught myself sent a spiral of adrenaline through my head that left me dizzy, but driven. My favorite feeling in all the realms. I pushed myself up and onward, the reckless lightning crawling through my muscles, the potential of death beneath me and my goal just a step beyond. Guilt pooled in my chest at how fun this was.

If I died, I’d leave them to fend for themselves. But wasn’t I entitled to a little fun? A few extra punches and leaping through the canopy where one wrong move would send me a distance that ensured a broken spine at the very least. Fear, but spiked with a challenge. The one thing I could never say no to, no matter how many times I told myself I had to.

I danced with death high up in the canopy of the trees, spinning out of his arms as I crept onward. My legs held the branches, my hands and knife sheared the fruit into my arms. He chased me through the leaves, claws to my throat, hanging on to my future and my family with one hand. I began to slip.

In one scrambling minute, I fumbled to return my knife to its sheath. The whole world slowed and my muscles tingled with the icy threat of oblivion racing in my blood and swaying beneath me. I skittered along the branches, my grip tight. Risk tingling at my fingertips and wafting off my skin. Half sick and loving every inch of the dizzying terror, falling to my death over and over again, snapping my neck and bleeding out in the jaws of some predator who'd been hunting me since the day I picked up my fists and rejected their insults. But the whipping freedom of triumph and speed stung deep into my very core. Catharsis. A release of everything that scrabbled at the cage of my ribs for an escape, sweating diamonds.

Eventually I tumbled down the tree, only punished with a few scratches and bruises for my recklessness. But as my feet hit the underbrush, and I rearranged my supplies, the energy pounded in my skull, shivering through my bones and muscles until I couldn't handle the stationary silence anymore and made a break for it, running for the bridge, energy released through breaths between my teeth. Leaves scraped against my legs, catching on the fabric, then grass, dirt, then stone. My lungs burned and I tasted iron as the smoke of the town drifted into view over the tops of the trees on the horizon.

Home.

At last.