Very, VERY unfinished fanfiction I'm doing.
Canopies above the woodland floor poked holes in the sky, golden light flooding through like sunlight through an old curtain. The air was filled with the scents of waking creatures inhancing the smell of the westerlies rolling in cool and crisp. Orange grass grew between fallen leaves shadowed blue with age. The sky, oddly red and green tinged up from the horizon began to hue into an overcast blue as the morning came. A small herd of deer and doe grazed in a glade of tall grass. Their antlers were long, decorated with engravings naturally formed in when they mature. The biggest one, the obvious leader of the herd, was in the midst of them, crunching on yellow flowers that stained its nose with red pollen. Peacefully grazing went the deer and doe, unknowing of the tribesmen along the edges of the glade.
The hunting party was weaponless. Many of them were dawned in fur and feather-clad cloaks draping over their shoulders. It was a mix of adult men and women, and very few adolescence. Only the younger ones lacked cloaks, but weilded spears and bows and arrows. They carefully aimed the best they could at the smaller game which were preferred to be easier targets for those still learning to hunt.
"Okay," A tall man with long black hair, balding at the top, with a small braid beneath his mane tied in with wooden beads of different shapes--the Patriarch of the tribe--whispered instruction to the hunters, "the smaller ones go first. Remember, aim for their chests, right where their hearts are. Let the adults do the hard work."
It sucks, lol.
I just thought of a better username. Goddammit.
I've had severe writer's block forever now, but this is the from the last real completed thing I've worked on. It's from a fantasy story I have planned out in my head but have never been able to properly translate to paper. This would be a bit from like the first chapter or so roughly.
“Let’s just call it quits for pity’s sakes Leon.” Mikos grumbled.
“What d’you mean call it quits? Still got sunlight don’t we?” Leon answered, tearing his eyes from the weathered outline of deer hooves.
“Aye but no game, in case you’d not noticed. ‘Sides I’m sweating buckets.” Mikos said.
Leon turned an anxious eye skywards. It was blue and cloudless, just starting to turn violet with nightfall. The sun was a bloody ruby as it slowly sunk behind the jagged ridge of the High Thrones. The woods would usually be cooling with sunset, but on this blistering day of midsummer the dusk-light shone hot as noontime.
But it wasn’t fallen behind the familiar jut of the Piedmont as yet. Having hunted these woods since he was a scamp of eight or so, he knew that gave them time enough to reach Colburn before dark. It was a frail hope, but it was all he had.
“Look the snares netted us two braces o’ conies and a smatter o’ squirrels for the tykes. I know, won’t make for much o’ a feast. But choosey hunters go hungry like my pa’ always says.” Mikos said.
“Just give it a little while longer Mikos. You never know, they might-.”
“What stop by for a drink?” The older, black haired boy intruded, giving a forceful nudge in the direction of the stream.
Leon’s face fell and he collapsed back on his rump with a glum, dispirited sigh. His frosty blue eyes traced along the stream’s barren coursing. It was one of the many small brooks which babbled along the mountains’ foothills, or it usually did. But drought had left it dry as bone. The summer sun cooked its water sloped walls of dirt and the smoothed stones set in its bed. All the other streams they’d seen were much the same. Usually running with clean waters, now all Leon could see was a layer of dust and the drying husks of shriveled river-shrub.
The hunting was likewise dry. They’d found naught but weeks old tracks, left by game fled for greener pastures far downhill. The question hanging on Leon’s lips was why. You could still, if you looked, find glassy pools of spring-water and ponds clean enough to drink from, and there was as much leafy green scrub between the copses of mountain spruce as ever. Yet not a vole was stirring, and Leon feared there was no hunting left between here and Bolstham.
“There’s got to be something out there.”
“Kyva Meye, bloody obsessed you are.”
“Am not…s’just tha-.”
“Just what? Look hunting’s been shite of late. No one’s fault but we all got to deal. Folk’ll ‘ave to get used to roast rabbit s’all.”
“But tonight? For the feast? C’mon Mikos feasts need real meat: pork, venison, turkey, not roasted squirrel! We can’t go back empty-handed they’ll be so disappointed in us-.”
“So what if they are Leon? Fuck ‘em. Like to see ‘em do any better’n us. Why do you care so much?” Mikos said shaking his head.
“I-I dunno,” Leon muttered, staring at the dusty toes of his boots, “Just don’t want to let everyone down is all.”
“Bloody hell, s’not that big a deal. This the Corsyan in you or summat? Not happy unless you’re making a mountain o’ one molehill or another?”
“Heh. Maybe.” Leon laughed mirthlessly, “Can’t say for sure can I? Never knew Corsya meself, even if it is in my blood. Whatever it is ‘fraid I’ll be stayin’ awhile longer.”
The sky and the cosmos are one