After running for a while from my aunt and her new pet, I found myself completely drained. The combination of a whole day of labor, a recent shock and an unexpected marathon left me with aching from seemingly every part of my body. I sat down to catch my breath and relieve at least some of the pain and looked around to see the familiar scenery of centuries old pines peaking into the sky, soaring above me hundreds of meters, their twigs in the wind wiggling around like snakes trying to exacerbate my already dwindling health.
I was never the strong type, always sick as a kid. It's gotten better over time and now I was just below average when it comes to physical strength compared to teens around my and nearby villages. But being sick has left a mark on me and my family. My village is what you'd call a hunting-warring tribe. Physical strength and quick thinking was praised, sick little kids weren't. I was never bullied for it, and I wasn't just left unattended. Memories of my mom paying me night visits and staying by my bed, when coughing streaks and chest pains inevitably came, are deeply etched into my mind.
But there was always this air of indifference. This is probably best explained by my parents having 4 other kids besides me. All taking after my almost inhumanly strong and chiseled dad and mom, both accomplished hunters with fame spreading even to allayan and roddan scouts that sail to our Lase. Now, they took care of me, but in what seemed like them strictly adhering to their most basic responsibilities as parents. Feed me, keep me warm and clothed, give shelter. That's it. There's no love, there's no respect, there's no nothing, no feelings in any way, shape or form.
Coming to our family house, which is big by the standards of the village, second only to the village head's house, I heard clanks of metal and little swoosh and in subsequent seconds thunk. I decided to knock on the small gates. "Hey, open up!" I almost shouted to make my voice be heard under the grunts of my brothers and metal hitting metal. Seconds later the noises stopped and the sound of a big hunk of wood shifting could be heard. "Oh, it's you, Korun. Get in already, no time to spare for you" - my brother barked. That's my oldest brother Worun, almost a perfect copy of my dad, but taller, taller than 2 meters and wide burly shoulders. His attitude towards me was as perfect of a copy of our parents, as his physical resemblance. Indifference. "Sure, sorry." - I mumbled, as I passed through him to get to the small training court and heading towards my room.
I spotted all my other siblings in here too, but I tried to pass by as silently as possible under their glares, which resembled someone with a face after they stepped in shit and now have to somehow get rid of it without actually touching it. Some mild annoyance, I guess, that I came in the middle of their sparring session. I sometimes was a part of these sessions, but never the sparring itself. Even after I got a lot better physically, I was still looked down upon as frail and was never allowed to participate in a sword fight. No, I trained with the bow. Over the years of training I've gotten quite proficient and technically could've gone on a hunt with others, but at this point I wasn't interested and my family still thought of me as weak and sickly and I took advantage of that. I spent most of my time training with bow in solitude or helping out my aunt with her work. I enjoyed doing this and the idea of dying randomly from a laboros or tigers out in some dark part of the thick groove wasn't appealing to me.
It was getting dark. Deep clouds eerily swallowing the entire skysea above. It'd be the time to sleep, but thinking about family once again made me uneasy and I couldn't feel even a wink of sleep. When this happens I always sneak out of the house and go to a small shed by my aunt's house on the outskirts of the village, bordering the thick forest, where most of the game for food is hunted.
Silently sneaking from the house was a trivial matter. Both my parents and my siblings spend all their time of the day outside. Training, hunting, sparring, having mock battles with other kids. So by the time they get to the house, they are knocked cold. Which I like to use to my advantage just like this time.
I was walking under the starless skysea, breathing in the chilly cold air of an early Autumn. With the clouds blocking all the possible light, I was treading in the complete darkness, twitching and holding my breath at every crunch of branches under the feet of the forest animals, the hollowing cries of the winds and shudder of the leaves. But I walked these roads almost everyday of my life and having no light was much less concerning than a random rabid animal deciding that I look tasty enough.
I was nearing my target, the shed which was always a promise of a peaceful alone time for me. It felt like a gust of wind started relentlessly pushing me forward and my feet almost not feeling the rocky dirt path underneath.
A growl. A faint glow of 2 dots in the dark. Run. Run. Run! I took off my feet and sprinted towards the shed. Loud thumps and growls mixed with whimpers following close behind. Finally the door to the shed was in my arm reach. I pushed my mind and body and turned the knob which thankfully responded with a clink, opening ajar and letting me inside its dark comfort. I quickly turned around and slammed the door behind me. In that moment I could see what was following me. Unsurprisingly, it was that cute cuddly laboros my aunt tried to make me adopt.