Bow

With a curved bow in his hand, he marched through the barren wasteland underneath the mask of darkness the land has given him. Soon, he shifted from being out in the open towards the cover of trees and rocks to hide him from sight. He waited, and his instincts were correct for soon, he had heard voices. Voices he recognized – one was croaky and crisp with age and weariness, whilst the other was simply aggressive and showing strength through even his voice.

The sea, as ever catches and is made even more perfect in the morning light. The coastal winds roar and numb my face and the roar of the waves only just allow the call of sea birds to be heard over them. This will be the last morning I see this sight for a long while. I close my eyes and feel the peace despite the rising noise of the docks below.

After chasing the wolf through the forests and fields with no luck of catching it, Vaalea stomped back in to the forest and started a vigorous search for a certain kind of wood. She needed a tree of certain age, of certain strength and of certain flexibility and it had to be fallen a certain time ago. She did not eat nor rest, before she finally found one. A tree trunk, fitting for a perfect bow. She had done a few bows back in her youth with Aika, the bow maker of her tribe, and she remembered the instructions well.

My journey has started, with a quite unexpected first few days. 

"Hear my laughter, not my feet.

As they run before me

hear them bleat.

Don-a-don-derry! Ho!"

"For my laughter cares not,

for their running cries sound

as their blood does clot.

Don-a-don-derry! Ho!"

"Hear the draw string thwak!

Day turns black!

With feathered arrows in their back!

Don-a-don-derry! Ho!"

"I bear no ill thought,