Frightened, and relieved all at once to hear of my sister’s recent car accident. The car may have perished but she made it out with naught but bumps, bruises, and a rather interesting looking marking on her shoulder. No doubt caused by the seat belt; our group chat joked about it being something a fantasy story character would bear. So in her honor, a small chapter snippet of a book I would dub Renelesca, Scarred.

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Calloused, careful fingers find purchase on the yew longbow strapped to her back. Deft movements, noting years of practice, saw an arrow notched to bow string in merely a beat. With piercing blue eyes locked onto a too-far target, she drew a deep breath in.

“Steady,” barely a whisper, behind her. 

Dropping lower into a crouch, her leather boots silent, our hunter moved carefully forward. The dense forest crowded around her, and her prey. Leaves, brush, thorn, and thicket clawing their marks onto all who passed. Trees grown too close together preventing sightlines, huddled above them. The light of a morning sun could not pierce the ever-present leaves, and the wind carried notes of honey, blood, and sweet sap. 

“You’re going to miss your chance,” another chide from the voice behind.

A sharp nod quiets the voice, and the eyes return to the beast. Not quite a deer, and not quite a bear, this creature lumbered through brush with quiet ferocity. Its footfalls scattering bugs and wildlife, the trodden path an easy mark for most hunters. But most hunters don’t go after beasts like this, even with a bounty so high. A gaping mass of teeth marred the creature’s face, and standing taller than any horse mounted, surely this was something out of a story for children. Or perhaps a nightmare. Nevertheless it killed at least three people at a nearby farm on the outskirts of Nuruna Forrest. And since then all manner of townfolk, militia, and bounty hunters have tried their hands at felling the beast. 

The progress, as you would expect, has not borne any fruit. Remnants of would-be heroes hang loosely from the large antlers, blood stains matted to fur, and a whole mess of arrows, spears, and swords hang tall from the creature’s back. Our hunter deftly moves through the brush, in careful pursuit, onward ever towards her target. Footfall following footfall, crouching in the overgrowth. 

“I’m going to need you to stop breathing so loudly,” she notes. Her voice softer than a summer breeze. “We can’t afford to set this thing off just yet.” 

The beast meanders with careless movements, currently unaware of any would be threats, towards a small, crescent-like clearing. Not the disposition of a beast wanted for murder, but who am I to speak for nature. It huffs at the grass as it begins to shake, and shimmy. Attempting to remove human flesh, viscera, and all manner of weaponry from it’s skin. 

“It has to be now,” again the voice from behind.

Renelesca circles to the flank of the creature, silent as a mouse, and steadies herself. Only a few footfalls from the grove, she waits, at this range she won’t need to account for wind. The bow, inlaid with carved flowers, begins to shudder as she pulls into a firing stance. She rises slowly, carefully to a standing position and takes aim.

A breath, she holds.

A breath, she holds. 

The beast suddenly becomes alert, its head whipping to attention. Its harrowingly long gaze isn’t pointed towards Renelesca, or her companion 60 feet away. Its attention is drawn to a passing rabbit, or is that a squirrel? Unsure of the noise, the beast returns to its task, shaking and wistfully trying to clean itself. 

A breath, she holds once more. 

Sweat beading at her brow, the ache in her shoulder is no longer able to be ignored. Her focus dropping a brief moment, as she chews on the inside of her lip, before returning to the beast. A slight tremble in her fingers comes anew, tremors shooting through her left arm. More than a muscle spasm, she realizes this is it. 

The arrow looses from the bow with perilous speed as the pain grows too great. Years of experience allows her to swallow the agonizing scream before it escapes and alerts her quarry. The arrow, in flight, destined as a killing blow will not fell this monster. She knows this as a painful certainty. Too long has her left shoulder been keen to falter in moments like this. Gone are the days that her drawing arm could be relied on. A tiny moment of memory knocks on the closed doors of her focused mind. Here and gone in an instant. Before broken by the scream of the beast. 

A resounding thunk, followed by a guttural roar breaks the silence of the forest with resounding calamity. Every man, woman, child, beast and bird alike nearby are forced into fight or flight with no credence to why or how. Yellow, slitted eyes spin quickly towards Renelesca. The beast begins to crouch, muster strength, and slowly stalks out of the grove towards its new quarry. The arrow, buried nearly to fletching, accomplished nothing more than inconsolable rage. 

Footfall after crashing footfall, the beast stalks towards the hunter with grave inevitably. The long snout huffing, scenting slowly realizes where the arrow came from. Time begins to slow down as the distance is closed. Only seconds remain between the beast and its prey. Renelsca slowly notches another arrow and begins a soft prayer. 

“May speed, and deftness…” 

Thunk.

A second arrow lodges into the beast’s back. And a third. Its focus shattered, the beast whips around with frightening quickness, keen to share its pain with another. But this time it does not wait. No, it breaks ground with speed, and reckless abandon. The large claws ripping dirt and vegetation high into the air, the galloping echoes off the trees, as the beast sprints towards a new target. 

“Run,” Renelesca screams! Forfeiting her hidden position, she begins to climb the tree to her right. Hand and foot finding grips in the grooved bark, before resting on a branch 15 feet from the forest floor. 

Two arrows, at speed, start and leave her bow. Two thunks mark her quarry but do nothing to slow the beast or refocus its attention. Plan change. She grasps a small rope tied to her belt, hands finding the spiked end. She launches it across to a forward tree, and begins to swing branch to branch.   

“Lead it back through the grove,” she barks. 

A small branch catches her cheek, as she lands. Fastening the rope to a thick branch she drops the floor, and sets her snare. Weaving the rope into a large enough circle and hastily she covers it the leaves. Fading back to foliage, she waits. Blood pools, and slowly falls across her flushed cheek, hanging for a moment before descending the crest of her chinbone. With no real intention it stops at the pauldrons of her armor. Hide, and leather strapped amongst cloth and chainmail, she wipes it away. Wincing at the tenderness of her skin, she unstraps a piece and adjusts.

Branches, brush, and leaves crash into the grove, as her companion’s limp body flies through the air before skidding to halt at the base of large oak tree on the far end. A soft moan marks the eerie silence following. Rounding the grove Renelesca steps forward, from the treeline in front of her crumpled companion. 

“Here, beast. Your glory awaits,” with taunting confidence. An answering huff, the beats levels its gaze and readies into a crouch. A blink and the beast bursts into a sprint, covering the ground at breakneck speed. Its front right claw falls squarely in the trap snare, the rope snapping taunt. All strength and no mind mark an easy prey.

“Yes,” Renelesca sighs, relief spreading across her face. 

As fast as it came, the relief snaps away from her face. Her rope snare shattering as the beast continues unimpeded. A hanging, tattered rope hangs lifeless from her previous position. Notching an arrow Renelesca the Scarred stands tall against her quarry. Deft strength marks the arrow pulled into position, pain forgotten. She glances back towards her fallen companion, winces at the mark on her shoulder now showing, and returns focus to her coming death.  

With a primal scream the beast leaps into the air, claws and jaw gnashing through the quiet forest air. She matches its scream. A triumphant and defiant marker for the coming void. 

A breath, she releases the arrow.