A young boy, who looked no older than fourteen years, stealthily walked through the forest. He had a slightly dark chocolate skin, white hair in the form of long dreadlocks that he messily tied to the back, leaving only two of them to cover his eyes.
He was dressed in a shirt that was once white but now stained yellow and brown, a pair of thick black shorts and worn-out sandals. In his hands was a wooden bow, strapped to his back was a quiver with over forty crude arrows and a wooden cane that looked like it had been forged from the rough bark of an ancient tree.
The boy was hiding behind some tall bushes while his eyes reflected the visage of a male boar munching on something on the ground about twenty metres away from him.
Hoooooooooo…
He breathed out and took an arrow from his quiver before knocking it on the bow. Then, he pulled the string, veins sticking out from his right hand. He looked at the boar once more before closing his eyes. His arms moved slightly to the right and shifted upwards.
Then, he released the arrow, sending it flying through the air… and straight into the eye of the boar, and into its brain. And if that wasn't enough, the abominable force that drove the arrow shattered the boar's skull and revealed its tip at the back of the boar's head.
The boar died instantly.
The boy frowned as he looked at the unmoving corpse.
Then, he brought out a flat material made from animal skin from his pocket before straightening it out to turn into a large sack. Dad sure is creative… the boy thought as he dumped the complete body of the boar inside the sack.
The boy slung the sack--which now had the full weight of a mature male boar—over his shoulder with a little strain, then he started walking in a seemingly random direction.
Soon, he came to the bank of a clear flowing stream and laid the sack on the ground. He removed the corpse from the sack and unstrapped the wooden cane from his back. Then, he pulled the top of the cane upwards, causing it to detach from the body.
Slowly, a thin, austere blade revealed itself as it exited the sheath that was the wooden cane. The blade gleamed in the sun as the boy used it to behead the boar's corpse and cut off the legs.
Afterwards, the boar was gutted, all the blood falling into the stream as it flowed along the current. When the boy finished, he washed the parts—the head, legs, meaty parts, liver and gizzard—and placed them back in the sack he had already washed.
This took the boy two hours.
"It's already evening… mom is most likely worried," the boy muttered as he slung the sack, which was obviously lighter, over his shoulder. Then, he walked away from the river after throwing one last look at the direction the river flowed to.
The boy walked for an hour till he reached the periphery of the forest, where he met five well-built men dressed in beast skin with a variety of weapons with them. As he saw them, they also spotted him in the distance.
"Hey, blackie! Where are you coming from?!" one of the men who had a bow on his back spoke.
The boy looked at the men, then he turned away, ignoring them.
The men snorted, then he spoke to his friends. "Aye… they should've just freed the kid the moment he was born. His skin is dark for God's sake!"
"I know what you mean," a taller man with a sword chimed in. "He looks like a godforsaken abomination…"
The boy heard the remarks of the 'mature' guards of the village and walked on without a change of expression. In the village, he had no one apart from his parents. They were his parents, his teachers, and his friends.
In his earlier years, he had always been hurt by the snarky, spiteful and mocking remarks that were always rained down upon him due to his skin colour. To him, it wasn't his fault, and he couldn't understand why people just dissed and insulted him, every time.
But now, he didn't give a shit. As long as his parents were fine, the village could burn and he wouldn't care.
That's why he began hunting juicy meat for his parents before they became too old to benefit from it since the people weren't keen on having relations with the parents of an abomination.
When the boy stepped into the village, he spotted a group of kids that were his age playing a game of tag together.
He simply walked past them as they looked at him with mocking eyes and greeted him with insulting words.
Afterwards, he saw a group of children playing hopscotch, only to scatter the moment he entered their line of view.
The boy didn't pay them any mind.
Later, he saw a group of women knitting as they shared stories with each other, only for them to start audacious gossip the moment he was spotted.
He felt irked, but his face remained impassive as he walked.
When he got near his house, he spotted some men who just looked at him with judging gazes.
The boy stopped in the middle of the road, then he looked up at the sky.
His agemates that mocked him reminded him of how he had been ganged up on the first time he tried to join their group.
The children that scattered reminded him of how much lies they had been fed by their parents.
The adults reminded him of the isolation his parents were facing.
All of this was his fault, and he knew it.
But his parents still loved him, and he loved them.
So, his impassive expression vanished, replaced by a smile as he walked into his parents' compound.
"Mom, dad, I'm home!"
As for the boy, his name was Luan.