The first light of dawn crept over the eastern hills, its soft, golden rays spilling into the village of Carn. Snow blanketed the rooftops and winding cobblestone paths, capturing the sun's early warmth in glimmers of white and gold. Each thatched cottage, encased in morning frost, seemed to exhale as the light touched it, stirring the village awake in a gentle hush. The air held a faint chill, carrying the mingling scents of snow, pine, and the distant fires that flickered to life in hearths across the town.
Inside a modest, cozy room on the second floor of the tavern, Astria stirred as the sun's warm rays pierced through faded curtains. The roosters' calls outside blended with the faint murmur of leaves rustling in a soft breeze. He took a slow breath, letting the stillness settle around him before swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. This was the peace of morning—a moment when everything felt as it should.
Descending the creaky wooden staircase, Astria was welcomed by the comforting aroma of breakfast wafting from the kitchen.
"Good morning, dear," Elara, his mother, greeted him. Her smile was gentle, a familiar sight that never failed to set Astria at ease. "I was just about to call you down. Breakfast is on the table."
The wooden table, scarred from years of use, was laid with care, each plate and cup placed. In the center sat a steaming pot of mutton stew, its hearty aroma filling the room. A loaf of fresh bread rested nearby, its crust golden and inviting. Elara took her place calmly, while Astria's grandparents, Henri and Carmen, settled into their seats with quiet smiles. Despite his years, Henri retained a rugged vigor, his white hair cropped short and a wiry beard. Beside him, Carmen's silver hair was carefully braided, her slender frame. She had soft features and kind green eyes.
Astria sat in his chair beside his mother and across from his grandfather. His eyes drifted to the table, gaze fixed on the loaf of bread—a perfectly baked crust that begged for a taste. Hunger sparked mischief in his heart; prayers traditionally preceded the meal, but the anticipation of that first bite was an itch he yearned to scratch.
Henri raised his hand to signal for silence and the morning's prayer. Astria, heart pounding, had already slipped a small piece of bread into his palm. His mouth watered as he brought it to his lips, relishing its warmth—until his grandfather's words cut through the room. "Let us pray."
Astria stilled, cheeks reddening as he quickly stuffed the food into his mouth. The family's voices rose in solemn unity, the cadence of their prayer both ancient and comforting. As their words faded, Astria swallowed, feeling both the warmth of the bread and the warmth of their shared ritual.
Henri's gaze narrowed with playful suspicion. "Think I didn't notice you, boy?" His voice was gruff but carried a teasing lilt. "Always sneaking a bite. A fox, this one."
Astria grinned, shrugging nonchalantly as he chewed, then gave an exaggerated look of innocence. "I'm just making sure it's good enough for everyone, Grandfather. Quality control."
Elara chuckled, shaking her head as she took a serving of the steaming stew. "Your 'testing' seems to happen quite often."
Henri let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. "Mischievous as they come, just like his father was," he said, reaching across the table to ruffle Astria's hair. "Don't let his quiet nature fool you," Henri added, glancing at Carmen with a smirk. "There's always something cooking up in that mind of his—probably scheming a way to skip firewood duty as we speak!"
Astria raised his hands in mock defense, a smile tugging at his lips. "I wouldn't dream of it, Grandfather!" He paused, then leaned forward with sudden earnestness. "Actually, Grandpa, could I come with you again today? To hunt?"
Henri raised a bushy brow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You want to join an old man on his rounds?"
"Yes! I want to improve my skills," Astria said eagerly.
Henri smirked knowingly. "Aye, but I know your tricks. Just trying to avoid chores again, aren't you?"
Astria's eyes widened in feigned innocence. "Not at all! I'm serious about learning!"
He crossed his arms and frowned playfully. "I'll do the chores after—I promise. Just let me go again."
Henri chuckled. "Always finding a way out, eh? Well, if you're serious, ask your mother."
Astria turned to Elara, his best pleading expression in place. "Please, Mother?"
Elara shook her head, though the smile in her eyes softened. "Fine, but only if you promise to help afterward. You can't skip everything."
The afternoon was when most of the village came to unwind, and the tavern grew lively as patrons trickled in. By then, the bulk of the chores had piled up, and his mother knew they'd need extra hands to manage the busy hours. It made sense for Astria to lend a hand during the rush, balancing his responsibilities with a touch of adventure.
Astria beamed. "Deal! Thanks, Mother!"
Henri let out a laugh, though he grimaced, rubbing his back with a wince. "Really could use a bit of help these days anyway. Seems age has caught up with me faster than I'd like."
Carmen, astria grandmother, smirked. "Age or stubbornness, Henri?"
Henri grinned. "Both, maybe."
As the meal concluded, each member of Astria's family slipped seamlessly into their routines. Elara left for the town square, where the busy marketplace awaited, preparing for the day's work at the family-owned tavern. The tavern was more than a business—it was the lifeblood of the family, a haven where village folk lingered over food and ale. Carmen, Astria's grandmother, remained behind, her voice a soft hum that mingled with the crackling fire as she prepared the tavern for the day's demands.
But this morning, Astria's mind was elsewhere. Today, he would join his grandfather, Henri, for the hunt—a practice that had become his own rite of passage since he had turned ten. Almost two years had passed since his first venture into the wilds, and the thrill of it still clung to him like the lingering scent of pine and smoke. The creatures they hunted weren't merely for sustenance; they sustained the family's livelihood, it is the meat they offered to their patrons.
Anticipation thrummed through his veins as he assembled his gear with practiced care. He tucked a small dagger into his belt, adjusted the strap of his bag over one shoulder, and lifted his bow—its weight familiar yet humbling in his grasp. Astria knew his skills were still raw, unpolished, especially in using the bow yet he felt a pull toward the wilderness that defied caution. Stepping out into the chilled morning air, he found Henri waiting, his figure a steady, grounded presence.
Henri was clad in a leather tunic and sturdy trousers, each piece of his attire weathered yet well-kept, bearing the subtle marks of countless journeys. His belt bristled with tools, each one carefully chosen and sharpened, from a knife with a bone-carved handle to the well-worn quiver at his back.
"Ready then, are you?"
Astria nodded, meeting his grandfather's gaze. With a steady stride, they set off together, leaving the warmth of the cottage and venturing into the snow-covered hills. The village receded behind them, its rooftops glinting in the morning light.
They ventured toward Orudin Forest, a sprawling expanse of verdant green that, in this season, lay draped beneath a thick blanket of snow. The forest stretched across the northern ridges of Heldruin, and even now, with winter's chill gripping its boughs, it teemed with life. For the hunter, it was a place of plentiful quarry, but for the unwary or unprepared, it brimmed with lurking peril, a place where shadows moved as easily as beasts.
From the village of Carn, half an hour's walk away, the jagged outline of the forest was a constant sight, its dense canopy swallowing the horizon. As Astria and Henri drew nearer, the great trees rose to greet them. Their trunks, thick as towers, loomed over dense underbrush that coiled like green serpents around their base. They pressed forward along trails etched by countless huntsmen over the ages, their steps quickening as they sought the heart of the forest where prey was most plentiful.
With each step deeper, the forest's ambiance changed. The morning sun strained through the labyrinthine canopy, casting fragmented beams that painted the forest floor in a dim, shifting glow. It was an eerie beauty; every scurry of claws or snap of twigs echoed like whispers from unseen watchers.
'The forest remains dense even under winter's grasp,' Astria mused.
A sense of calmness was evident in his mind. The air was cold, but he found it bracing, not bitter. All in all despite the eeriness of it, he was certainly glad that he could go to this place.
The winding trail soon led them to a wide river, its current swift and roiling. An enormous tree that fell down over the river that it could reach the other end serves as a natural bridge that connects the two sides. It's fascinating how a tree with a trunk so wide it is possible to carve a dwelling inside it fell. Its surface, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet, was an echo of centuries gone. Perhaps it lived for hundreds of years, or even thousands of years standing straight above that it could barely reach the clouds till it found itself to lay rest on the ground.
The trail lead them to a wide river they needed to cross. An enormous tree that fell down over the river that it could reach the other end serves as a natural bridge that connects the two sides. 'Well at least it still has purpose even after dying, good job tree',' Astria reflected, patting the trunk reverently before climbing atop it.
"Careful now, boy!" Henri called out with a grin. "Hold those branches tight like you'd clutch your own jewels, unless you wish the river to have them!"
"Understood, sir!" Astria replied, though he was perplexed by the crude humor.
Halfway across, Astria dared a glance downwards. The river's tumult roared beneath him, its waters cold and uncaring. Any misstep would mean certain death—a grim fate to be crushed by currents or drowned in freezing depths. He shook his head, fixing his gaze forward, and with careful footing, made it safely to the opposite bank.
Resuming their journey, they ventured deeper into the forest. Here, the trees rose even higher, their shadows longer and darker but still nowhere near the fallen tree. Fog clung to the earth, pooling around their legs as they moved. Eventually, they came upon a stone wall standing five meters tall, as if heaved from the ground. It was gnarled with roots, weathered by age, and formidable.
"Almost there," Henri said, eyes glinting with the promise of their destination. "Just a bit more climbing. Are you tired yet?"
"Not at all, I'm still doing fine." Astria replied with determination, though sweat clung to his brow.
Henri nodded and began his ascent, using the cracks in the stone wall, formed by the encroaching roots of a massive tree nearby, as natural footholds and handholds. His movements were steady and deliberate, each step carefully placed. Upon reaching the top, he found a sturdy root jutting out from the ancient tree and secured the rope to it. He then tossed the rope down. Astria, trying to catch the rope, missed and it landed on his head before falling to the ground. Chuckling softly at his mishap, he quickly picked it up. Grasping the rope firmly, he positioned himself against the wall, placing his right foot on a prominent crack and then his left, beginning his climb. He could feel the strain in his arms as he pulled himself up. His feet sought out the small ledges and fissures with care, making sure each step was secure before shifting his weight. The wall loomed high above, but Astria focused on the task, climbing steadily despite the occasional slip of his foot on the damp, mossy stone.
Astria paused atop the stone, catching his breath. Pride flickered in his chest. 'Better than last time,' he thought.
Walking behind Henri, Astria followed as the path gradually sloped downward. Ahead of them, massive stone structures loomed. As they approached, the silhouette, if examined closer, resolved into what seemed to be the head of a colossal statue. Partially buried, only a third of its immense face emerged from the earth, its features obscured by centuries of moss and weathering. Perhaps due to the dim lighting of the forest and never ending bites of time, the face was reduced to be barely recognizable as a head, while the rest of the body was buried beneath the ground.
Astria shivered, feeling their silent gazes upon him.
'These things… they unsettle me each time,' he reflected.
The fog thickened, rising around them until the ground leveled out once more. Here, the mist receded, revealing a serene lake. Sunlight broke through the canopy, painting the water's surface in glimmering light. Trees with roots like grasping fingers embraced its banks, their limbs reflected in the mirror-still water.
"We're here, walk slowly and quietly watch your steps carefully." Henri instructed him while taking off the bow on his shoulder and taking one arrow from his quiver.
Astria nodded in response then readied his bow as well. They quietly approached the edge of the lake, carefully not to disturb or alert any potential prey of their hunt. They surveyed the area first, looking if there's any creatures in the lake— to their luck they saw a deer.
It loomed, towering three meters high. The front legs bulged with sinewy muscles, their red-colored skin cracked and raw like old blood. The rear, grotesquely deer-like, lent it a mocking elegance. An abomination of twisted flesh and bone, with five crimson eyes burned with malevolent light, each moving independently, searching hungrily.
It lowered its head to the lake, a long, serpentine tongue snaking out to lap the water with a wet, slithering hiss. As its lips pulled back, rows of jagged, yellowed teeth glinted—a predator's maw beneath antlers that clawed at the sky. The air thickened, shadows recoiling from the low, guttural growl that promised death.
"We are truly fortunate today." Henri enthusiastically said as he positioned himself and began to stretch the string of his bow, aiming for his prey.