ARTHUR stood facing the forest. The sun was setting quickly and he knew he had to catch the rabbit before his uncle returned home in less than two hours. He glanced up at the round, orange sun which was peeking from behind the canopy of trees and exhaled.
He could not imagine what his uncle would do when he arrived panting from climbing up the hill only to find that their food for the night was gone. Scampered away into the forest and probably in the mouths of some other bigger creature.
He squatted to the ground and laid his hand flat on the earth, squinting at the footprints the scared rabbit had left in its wake. When it came to tracking, Arthur was sure he was far better than his uncle who had trained him, although his uncle would never admit it.
There was a musty smell in the air and the scent of fresh leaves dancing slowly with the cool breeze. The sky was beginning to get cloudy and with how moist the air was, Arthur was sure it would be raining soon.
He had to find the animal before the rain started and washed away whatever tracks the rabbit had left behind. Slowly, he began to follow the tracks, throwing pebbles behind him as he went,
His uncle always loved to remind him of the vastness of the forest and although they had spent the last twenty-four years running around in it, they did not know every single corner of it.
"The forest is like a chameleon," his uncle always said, usually chewing on one of the many sticks he usually kept in his pockets. Arthur always wondered where he got them from, he had never seen the man scraping the bark of a tree, nor had he seen him breaking stems.
Yet, he never lacked sticks to chew.
"It always changes. The roads are never the same as before and if you are not careful or have a good eye like me, you will get lost in them."
It was these stories which had made Arthur fascinated with the forest and it that roused his interests in the forest.
"Why is that?" He always asked his uncle. Wanting to know why the forest never allowed one path to be just the way it was forever. "Maybe the forest is just one giant chameleon."
His uncle usually laughed at his ignorance. "Maybe it is, or maybe it is just trying to protect itself." He would explain. "You see, all living things have a protective tendency. We have learned to develop a mechanism which helps us when we are being attacked by a predator."
"Who attacks the forest?"
Arthur had not believed that there was anything which could do harm to the forest as large as it was. The forest was always there, all-seeing, all-knowing. Perhaps, it was why his fascination had begun. He wanted to be like the forest, see and know everything and immune from attacks from predators as his uncle called them.
"Humans." Were always his uncle's simple answer. "The forest is trying to protect herself from us."
Then, it had made no sense to Arthur. But as he began to grow up and witness the wickedness of humans even to their fellow humans, he slowly began to understand what his uncle was saying. It was why he wanted to become a warrior.
His service was going to be to the poor and needy like his uncle. He would protect those who were not strong enough to protect themselves. He had been training hard; sparring with his uncle in the wee hours of the morning, running drills with the town army commander, Greg during the day and with himself at night, he was sure he was ready.
He shook the memories from his mind and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Being a tracker required all the use of his six senses and avid concentration. If he got anything wrong –
He almost jumped with joy when he saw the rabbit staring at him from a clearing in front. He bent on his knees and stepped lightly, trying not to frighten the rabbit who was chewing on a fruit. If he hadn't been distracted by the excitement from seeing the rabbit, he would have noticed the hole in front of him which was made conspicuous by a few dried leaves which had been strewn on the surface.
His right foot was the first to get caught in the hole and he fell with a loud gasp, followed by a piercing shrill, which echoed on the walls of the seemingly endless pit. He landed on his back with a loud crunch and he knew instinctively that he had broken something.
Perhaps, it was his head. He felt the trickle of fluid run down his face and gather at the base of his head. Or perhaps it was his arm; it was bent to an abnormal position and he could feel his heart beating from there or maybe it was his legs which he could no longer feel.
Or the whole of his body.
Arthur laid on the stone-cold floor, his vision blurring and his heartbeat becoming fainter. He wondered if this also was the work of the forest protective tendencies. If the forest had been trying to protect one of its children and had landed him in this trap.
The last thing he saw as his eyes closed and gave way to the darkness which swallowed him whole was the head of a beast which he had never laid eyes on before, breathing down at him.
Perhaps, he mumbled to himself. This was only a dream and he was really in the cottage with his uncle, sleeping after they had eaten the rabbit and some eggs for dinner. He would wake up tomorrow and forget more than half of the dream again.
Tomorrow, he would be ready, he told himself as he slipped into oblivion. To be a better tracker than his uncle and prove that he was mature enough to become a warrior.