(Breathe)

Lincoln has his eyes on a deer which was carefully leaping from one bush to the next avoiding becoming prey. It has the face of a baby's innocence, looking left and right before hopping on to the next.

After years of experience, Lincoln knows that it is aware of his presence, masking it perfectly with its innocent calmness, but before the deer could do any misdirection, raising its tuff of fur up in the air, ready to pounce towards other bushes, Lincoln let loose an arrow, slicing through the air with precision and speed.

The excitement was pounding against his chest and his smirk turns into a smile and his eyes start glowing with pride, until a hand pries the arrow from the air, and then breaks the arrowhead from its shaft.

"Argh!"

Lincoln emerges from the treetop and lands with his khaki boots nearing brown. His white shirt in a mess of mud and leaf stains and his camouflage jeans greener that it should be. The fourteen-year-old in him stomps his feet, doing tantrums in his head, but the seasoned warrior instilled through years of training shows composure beyond his years.

"Whyyyyyy?" he demands, his arms extend in agonizing frustration, the fourteen-year-old in him winning out, "I almost had it!!!" He stomps his foot once more.

"You wish boy," says a man in his forties, laughing boisterously, "You wouldn't have hit that even if you shot that arrow inches away from it."

He snaps the arrow in two this time and knelt on one knee before Lincoln. His body god-like– broad shoulders, large arms, and a solid core – his tank top ready to burst from underneath.

"Good attempt though," he adds, "But you were made for the sword, not the bow and arrow."

"Like you always teach me," retorts Lincoln, "Why don't you just teach me how to use these, Dirkan?" presenting the bow and the broken arrow to him.

"You're just not made for it, lad. Not like your father was."

Dirkan gives him a smile, wrinkles running across his face like he always does. As his father figure, Lincoln always finds his smile comforting and gives in. He picks Lincoln up and carries him back to the village.

¬¬¬

The rain is pouring hard on the village, and as the people sleep, but Lincoln runs headfirst into the forest, deeper and deeper he goes. His geta is soaking wet and leaving footprints on the mud trail. He has his bow around his shoulders and a quiver of arrows rattling gently against each other.

Thunder booms across the sky, but Lincoln keeps going.

(I am good enough. You'll see Dirkan)

He comes to a stop as he reaches a clearing where a single tree stands in the middle of a sea of yellow grass. Everything about the tree is dark – its trunk color black, and its leaves dark. But, in spite of the darkness that radiates from the tree, it looks alive. An aura of darkness surrounds it.

This catches Lincoln's attention, but the way the other trees look alive but afraid to come near it makes him a little bit more curious. He steps into the clearing. Cautious, bow, and arrow at the ready. His eyes keep on shifting left and right, and as he nears the tree, his heart races out of his chest when a silhouette of a man appears behind the tree as lightning flashes across the dark, rainy sky.

"What the--" Lincoln gasps as he blinks and rubs both his eyes, pushing the fear that is breathing down his neck at bay, as much as he can. But the 14-year old in him is afraid. Both feet shaky and unsteady. One foot already stepping backward, but he pulls it back forward when he notices.

He takes a deep breath.

"Aaaaaargh!!!" tearing his lungs, screaming, then slaps his face with both hands until both cheeks hot pink. Shaking his head with his eyes close, he counts down from ten before he opens his and the silhouette is gone

He scans his surroundings searching for any signs of Dirkan playing a trick on him, but he cannot see any signs of him, or of any life, until he sees the same deer from earlier during the day, and his bravery steels his confidence back. His muscles tense, he stares at it from the distance. Halfway through closing in on it, the deer notices him and returns his stare.

The air around them is still. Lincoln's breathing becomes heavy, but he draws his arrow, directing all his focus towards the deer. The tension palpable as he pulls the bowstring to its full extent, but as he releases the arrow, he feels a sudden shiver from the air. The deer escapes from his peripheral vision before a dark column shoots towards the sky surrounding the dark tree with a black aura that scares Lincoln as he falls on his back.

Lincoln freezes on the ground, his eyes curiously on the dark column that continues to shoot dark rays to the sky as sparks escape from it, shooting them to the ground. The clouds converge around it. Curious, he looks around if anyone is watching him, or anyone else is walking towards the tree out of curiosity, but he sees no one.

He gathers himself and stands up, but the ominous feeling from the tree remains strong. He closes in on the tree, and the closer he gets, the stronger his feet shake, but before he can come close, a Stygian iron block shoots itself out from the column of darkness, just missing the side of his face.

He freezes, again, which is unusual for him because he never freezes, even in the most heated of battles. But, in just a span of minutes, he is caught off guard twice, and this scared him, and before he knows it, he races back to the village leaving his bow and arrow, and the ominous iron that is driven to the ground.

'''

Lincoln, drenching in sweat and rain, barges in Dirkan's hut – a small house made of leaves and bamboo shoots, two blocks in size, worn out by time.

Dirkan finds himself on the floor with Lincoln's shadow towering over him.

"What the hell boy?" his eyes blinking out of stupor.

"Have you gone mad?" he added.

Lincoln takes a while to respond. He is catching his breath before he starts trying to get his words together.

"The tree...turned black...shadows in the forest," Lincoln tries, but in futility, but as eyes grow wide and come closer to Dirkan's face, "Black iron."

"What are you...?" Dirkan cuts himself off, before adding, "What did you say, boy?"

"The tree in the forest..."

"Not that part. The last one."

"Black iron?" Lincoln's face filling with confusion unable to see the relevance.

"Where?" haste in Dirkan's voice; the determination in his eyes.

Lincoln, without a word, turns towards the forest's direction and points towards the far end of the forest. The memory showers him with an ominous feeling that he cannot shake, but, he keeps a brave façade with a paperwhite face and lips shaking from fear, and the longer the doors remain open, the stronger he feels the horror.

Dirkan squints his eyes, trying to make out what Lincoln is pointing at, but when he could not, he urges the boy forward.

"Bah! Just lead me to it boy!" orders Dirkan.

Lincoln turns towards him, hesitation in him, but just as when he gathers the courage to bring Dirkan to the clearing, he impatiently picks Lincoln up with his bulging arms locking him in a vice grip, and thrashing just makes it worse.

They arrive at the clearing and there is nothing out of the ordinary. The grass is just as yellow as autumn leaves, and the tree as lonely during his first encounter. The sky is clear with stars twinkling against its dark canvass.

But the biggest mystery to Lincoln is the stygian iron, which is nowhere to be seen. Something driven, hilt-deep, could not have gone and left as quickly as it has.

Lincoln runs to where the iron should have been and examines it closely.

"But it was here," Lincoln complaining as he loses his proof, "Where could it have gone?"

Dirkan kneels just beside Lincoln and examines the ground closely. Unaware to Lincoln, the grass around the small slit in the ground is starting to die. Yellow turning brown and those closer to the small hole is already black.

Dirkan looks at it with determined longing but brushes it off as one of Lincoln's absurd tall tales.

"If it's not there, it's not there."

"But it was."

"Then where is it?"

Lincoln quickly opens his mouth, ready to answer, but even he is not able to give him an explanation as he hangs his head out of disappointment.

Under and with every sob, he whispers, "But the sky it turned dark and the air stood still...

"And there he was...behind the tree...a shadow...

"It was him Dirkan...his silhouette. Father's shadow."

He hears him wail out like any fourteen-year-old boy will when missing their father.

Dirkan kneels in front of him and brings him into a tight hug with his head against his chest. He curses the boy's father for abandoning him but keeps at looking warily at their surroundings.

As his sobbing dies, Dirkan lets him go and motions Lincoln to come near him. He paces to where Dirkan is, and with head hanging low, walks with him back to the village, Dirkan's massive hands on the top of his head.

"How about some coconut pie, eh?"