The unsuspecting rabbit went out of his hole and as if on cue, an arrow pierced its head. A woman clad in black hunting clothes appeared from behind a boulder and walked thirty yards to get her third rabbit for the day, her bow on the other hand and quiver full of arrows strapped on her back.
Hunting have been her source of income. Among other things. Her mother has a tailoring shop in the market while she does all sorts of things from babysitting, tending to a garden to pickpocketing. Among other things. The woods has always been a few degrees colder than in the city even in summer, much quieter, calmer, and peaceful. It is one of her favorite places in the world first because of the reasons stated above and second because it gives her an income. Twigs, leaves and fallen branches crunch under her feet in every step she took. Her eyes shifted above, to the canopy that filters the bluish light of the early morning. Birds sing songs she has been familiar with ever since she turned fourteen, the whole place buzzing with energy from the smallest of the insects to the biggest bears, the branches swinging and dancing to the rhythm of the wind, to the music no matter how much attention she pay to, will never be heard by her.
She kept on walking, an arrow nocked on her bow which is pointed downwards. Three rabbits inside her bag isn't enough for her so she decided to stay longer to hunt and for reasons that she doubts only her would understand. Gentle breeze brushed the fur lining her jacket, and the sound of rushing water whispered in her ears though for normal people, it would take them a few more minutes walking just to hear it. In seconds, she appeared beside the river, concealed by a tree trunk, a distance that would take normal people a quarter of an hour on foot. A deer is drinking from the river, oblivious to the fact that it will be its last drink.
She raised her bow and pulled the bowstring, her muscles already immune to the stress. As she released her breath, the arrow pierced the air like a knife and it landed on the deer's head, on the space between its eyes. On normal occasions, she would've ran across te river so fast that not a droplet of water would touch her but today, she craved for the cold water so she crossed the knee-deep cold water to retrieve the deer and went on her way.
As usual, the market is packed with people. Vendors shouting to get people's attention and persuade them to buy whatever it is on their tables saying it has the best quality or it is from a foreign land or a famous artisan made it or whatever lies needed for people to buy them. There are rugs from another country, sweets made from the rarest ingredients, rare herbs, exquisitely embroidered handkerchiefs, talismans, and jewelry. She's not a fan of fancy things, To her they're just unimportant things, a hassle because you have to protect it so that no one can steal it, a liability. But something caught her eye on the jeweller's table.
She stepped closer, her honey-colored eyes not leaving the small piece of jewelry. She ran her hand against the small fox pendant, feeling the ridges and contours on her fingers, its cold surface and the red rhinestone perched above the eyes. Looking closer, the features resembled those of a fox--a fox mask made of brass.
"Quite lovely isn't it?" she looked up and saw the jeweller smiling at her. Her tanned skin a contrast to the white dress she's wearing and the red rubies perched on a thin band of gold on her forehead.
"Yes," she said, her eyes still lingering on the pendant. She owned a few pieces of jewelry ever since she's a child, all of ot meant to make her mother stop talking about femininity that she lacked.
"You can have it, for free," her sweet voice said. The jeweller looks like she's not older than eighteen based on her soft features and her voice.
"N-No, I was just looking at it." she shook her head but the jeweller pulled her gloved hand and placed the pendant on her open palm.
"You should take it. It's meant for you," she said, seriousness on her face.
"Thank you." puzzled, she left and placed the pendant inside her pocket and went to the Pub.
You see, establisments here doesn't have lavish names, everything is named for what it is, the only variations on them are the first words. For example, Jacob owns a bakery so it will be named as Jacob's bakery but Lila owns a bakery too so it will be named as Lila's Bakery unlike the times before or the old era where establishments are named to be unique. They do not pay attention to those trivial things now because all the people care about is their needs. Quite practical, really.
Names have power, her father said and she learned it the hard way. When her father died they abandoned everything in Garde and went to Siege with only a brown bag with them. The brown bag that their father gave to her three days before he died and inside are documents that gave them new identities. Her mother's name changed from Cerise to Portia, her sister's name changed from France to Corrina and her name changed from Marguerite to Asteria.
The Pub looks like an old warehouse, perhaps it is an old warehouse but no one really cared. It has been that way ever since they moved there. Its metal doors are rusty and almost always injured those who are careless in opening the doors. It injured her legs the first few times but she got the hang of it. Asteria went straight to the kitchen where she got money in exchange for her hunt and then went to the counter where Essy sat.
Essy is the old woman who owns the Pub. Even with her grey hair and wrinkled skin, Essy is not the one you would like to mess with. A warm smile spread on her face as she saw Asteria approaching and the latter gave her a nod before sitting on one of the stools and emptying her pockets. Rings, necklace, earrings, bracelets and an expensive scarf laid on the table, all of it Asteria obtained from the sleight of hand.
"You've always been my favourite," Essy said as she placed coins inside a bag and gave it to her. Asteria weighed the bag in her hands and a ghost of smile played on her lips that disappeared before forming completely."Oh—wait." She disappeared through the door behind her and placed a book beside the jewelries the younger sold to her.
"What is this?" Asteria studied the leather-bound book. Its cover tattered and worn-out, the edges yellow with age but still intact. Essy knew about her love of books when she saw her carrying a book more than once and started to give books that she owned before, when she was young and can still read the small text. Most of them are old and the others are priceless, just like the one in Asteria's hands.
"That is a book of mythologies. Your name—Asteria was mentioned there." Asteria looked up and found her soft hazel eyes and a matching soft smile on her lips.
Vardeen is just a country with four major provinces and the capital with a king sitting on the top. King Romano came from the family that built this kingdom from ashes after the War of Blood, the war between Purebloods with the normal humans in between them who suffered the brunt of it. After the war that brought everyone to their knees centuries ago, Purebloods became outcasts, they were killed, tortured, and thrown in the dungeons to rot. There were few who escaped, a small number compared to their original number and no one heard of them after. There were stories that they made their own kingdoms, some say they died, some say they're still here, living.
We are still alive, hiding but alive.
The sun is at it's highest when Asteria started to walk west, through the path of dirt, going to the hills in the distance. On the same day for six years, Asteria walked down the same path, dodged the same branches, took the same steep path and carried the same emotions as she walked, remembered her sister's warm, brown eyes, her smile that willed the flowers to bloom, her sweet voice and her laugh. France could've been more beautiful now if that riot didn't happen, she could've been married and has two beautiful children, living in a comfortable life instead of being buried six feet underground.
Finally, she reached the top where Siege is just like a painting of a grey city of stones and cobblestones with an occasional pops of color here and there, the bluish figures of mountains in the distance, the wisps of smoke from the buildings, the noise and the people. Asteria stood there for a couple of minutes to takeit all in, letting herself be lost in the sweet breeze, the sound of wind brushing the grass beneath her, and the scent of flowers in the air. In her hands are red flowers that she picked up on her way that she held gingerly.
"Hello France," Asteria said and as if on cue, tears fell down from her eyes that created a salty path on her cheeks and let herself be broken for once. She cried with her head on her knees, hugging herself tight, afraid that the few pieces that she managed to hold together will crumble and she will be left with nothing.