For the first time in months, Aishil woke to the sunâs warmth on his features.
His undersized black wings stretched and fluttered as he uncurled from the tree branch heâd slept on, a sigh of relief escaping him a few moments later. Â Spring thaw at last . . .
A smile brightened his features, and he pricked his ears to listen for the sounds of movement from the camp set up below his tree. Â No one questioned why he slept in trees any more rather than a tent or a sleeping bag; it was something heâd done for years, at this point.
When he heard nothing but the soft bubble of the lake and the sounds of the woods, he perked up further, grabbing his satchel, bow, and quiver before darting off through the branches of the trees.
Once he was a ways away from the camp site, he slid his way down to the ground and pulled several lengths of twine out of his bag, along with a small handful of berries. Â Munching away happily on his breakfast all the while, the fae quickly got several rabbit snares set up and hidden under leaves and brush.
Heâd check back on those later.
With a quiet hum of satisfaction, he turned and began to make his way deeper into the woods, his steps light and energetic and his pointed ears pricked and alert for danger. Â The confident way in which he carried himself, not once tripping on a tangled root or starting at a sudden nose, was a sure sign that heâd spent at least as much time in the woods as he had in town.
After some time, he stopped again in a small clearing, his attention falling on the low-hanging branches of a fruit tree. Â A quick prod at one of the small fruits assured him that it wasnât yet ripe- unsurprising for the time of year.
The bushes near the edge of the clearing proved to be much more bountiful. Â Aishil spent several moments carefully examining the shape of the leaves and the color of the berries, plucking one of the small fruits off and giving it a light squeeze to check for ripeness. Â He popped the berry into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue experimentally and smiling in satisfaction once he was assured that it was sweet and edible, rather than a similar-looking but poisonous variety.
As he busily picked away at the best berries on the bush, a faint rustle made his ears twitch, and his breath caught in his throat slightly when he saw flicker of brown fur moving through the thickest part of the undergrowth. Â He straightened up slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements as he backed away and climbed up the nearest tree.
His wings began to flutter with excited anticipation as he made his way through the branches, green eyes trained on the splotch of brown fur down below. Â It was a decently sized deer for the end of winter, a young male no less.
Knowing that he only had one shot, Aishil drew his bow and shifted into a balanced crouch, nocking an arrow and drawing the string back to his cheek with the ease of years of practice.
A sharp twang sounded out as he released the string, the deer lifting its head in alarm just a few moments before an arrow struck the left side of its chest. Â Another twang followed as the deer reared up in a fit of pain and terror, the second arrow piercing its exposed stomach.
The deer fell with a hard thud, and Aishil scrambled down from the tree and darted over with a hunting knife in hand, careful to avoid the dying creatureâs weak, desperate kicks. Â He finished it off with one quick motion of his knife, not wanting the deer to lay there and slowly bleed to death.
And now he had what was likely at least two-hundred pounds of deer to somehow get from here to camp.
He straightened up, placing two fingers in his mouth and giving a long, loud whistle, his pitch shifting from low to high. Â High-to-low was his signal when he was in trouble; low-to-high, on the other hand, was simply a call of âsomeone come hereâ.
An answering whistle met his ears a few moments later, and he grinned, feeling a spark of pride as he cupped his hands over his mouth with a yell of, âTaaaaaaaak!â
He got to work extracting the arrows and cleaning his knife while he waited, completely unfazed when a tall shadow fell over him a few minutes later. Â âWhat have you been up to all morning?â a deep, quiet voice rumbled.
The fae hopped to his feet, turning and gesturing proudly at the downed deer and not so much as flinching away from seven feet of muscular half-orc. Â âCheck it out, Tak!â he trilled. Â âBrought him down in two shots!â
Khatakâs pointed grey ears twitched inquisitively, his grey eyes softening with affection as he reached over to ruffle the faeâs hair. Â âI wondered where youâd been,â he said, shifting the basket of freshly caught fish on his shoulder. Â âYou might have some trouble carrying it though.â
Even though no smile graced Khatakâs features, Aishil still began to giggle, ducking away from another hair ruffle and fluttering his wings cheerfully. Â âTradeâja the deer for the fish? Â I gotta check my snares on the way back to camp too.â
âLooks like you got some fruit for us, as well,â the half-orc said with a nod. Â âIâll take care of the deer.â
âGreat, thanks Tak!â Aishil said, taking the basket of fish and settling it onto his back. Â âSee you back at camp!â
On his way there, he was pleased to find several of his snares full- three squirrels, though a bit scrawny, would make a good pot of stew, and the single rabbit heâd caught had a decent amount of meat on it.
It took some very careful adjustments to be able to carry his satchel of fruit, his bow and quiver, the basket of fish, and the new additions to his catch. Â Thank the goddesses that camp wasnât far from here.
Even still, his shoulders were aching by the time a tent came into sight. Â Almost there, he told himself, trying to walk steadily in spite of his rapidly growing exhaustion. Â Almost back and then he could rest and eat-
For the first time that day, he tripped on a jutting root, a sure indication that he was more than worn out enough for his attention to lapse. Â He fell with a yelp of surprise, banging his chin on the ground hard and scattering fruit and squirrels in several directions. Â âO-ow . . .â
This time, he did flinch when a shadow fell over him, wings tucking close to his body as he scrambled to sit up. Â âS-sorry Zelis, I-I was carrying too much at once. Â Iâll clean it up, Iâm sorry.â
His previous confidence seemed to have evaporated entirely, his posture hunched as though he was suddenly trying to make himself smaller. Â The blond tiefling standing over him, however, simply blinked inquisitively and crouched down, looking more calm and curious than threatening in spite of his height and the sharply pointed horns jutting upwards from his forehead. Â Aishil mumbled another soft apology, and Zelis blinked again, finally speaking up with a quiet, âWhy are you sorry?â
âI-I didnât . . . mean to make a mess, I was carrying too much and I-â Â Aishil bit his lip, fumbling to stuff fruit and berries into his bag for several moments before daring to pipe up again. Â âY-youâre not . . . not mad?â
Zelis shook his head, looking almost baffled as to why he would be mad over a small mistake. Â âY-you promise?â Aishil whispered.
âPromise,â Zelis said with a soft smile, though it faded into concern when Aishil shrank away as the tiefling reached out to ruffle his hair. Â âYou need a minute?â he asked, pulling his hand back.
âI- y-yeah.â Â Aishil nodded, swallowing the knot of emotion that bad memories had brought to his chest. Â âC . . . can . . . can you . . . take the fish basket? Â A-and some of the fruit? Â I-I . . . Iâll go . . . work on the rabbit and the squirrels. Â P-please?â
âNo problem,â Zelis said, easily scooping up the satchel and basket. Â âGet some rest for a bit, okay?â
âMm.â Â Aishil nodded faintly as he picked up the rest of his catch, managing a weak smile for the tiefling. Â âIâll . . . Iâll be back in a while. Â Th-thanks, Zel.â
He turned and scattered to climb up the nearest tree, trying to breathe slowly enough to keep himself steady. Â Skinning and cleaning his catch would calm him down, give him something to distract himself from the phantom pains making the scar between his eyes ache.
Heâd had a good hunt, he told himself. Â He couldnât let one mistake, bad memories of him ruin it. Â Not today.
