This week’s Tuesday Teaser is from James Michael Orr’s The Hunted. Take a look at his website here.
The Hunted
By James Michael Orr
Estree inched closer to the shifting brush, bow in hand and arrow ready for release. She stood silently and still, not wanting anything to scare her prey at this critical juncture. Her belly continued to growl, causing her once again to command her stomach to obey her call for silence.
“Shut up,” she said to her rebellious belly, a bit too loudly. Estree had never been good at whispering. Another rustling in the brush told her that her prey was on the move again, and she had to be ready this time. She was hunting a horned jackerwall, a variation of the wild hare. Their tiny horns set them apart from other species, and they weren’t known for their tender meat. Still, she hadn’t eaten a good meal in at least three days, and she was desperate for anything at this point. Estree sucked in her breath, aimed her bow once more, and waited.
Careful, she thought. The jackerwalls were known for their speed and agility, and she may only get one shot at this. She was also running out of arrows, as several she used for hunting had broken or been lost. She waited until just the right moment. Suddenly, the jackerwall moved and Estree released the arrow. At the same time the hare raced out of the bush faster than Estree had anticipated, and she could only hope her aim was better than the last three attempts.The arrow soared towards the jackerwall, cutting through the autumn wind with intense purpose. She immediately knew she had let off a good shot and that her aim was true. With a “thunk,” the jackerwall stopped moving, the arrow finding its mark as Estree yelled loudly. “Yes!” she said, relieved to finally catch some game. The noise of her victory cry echoed through the valley making her self-conscious, despite the fact that she seriously doubted anyone was around to hear her.
Bending down, her golden curls nearly reached the ground as she gently pulled the arrow from her prey. She had to be careful as she didn’t want it to break. The arrow came out and she cleaned it quickly, returning it to her quiver. Estree wiped sweat from her brow, still wondering when the autumn cool would replace the miserable summer she had just endured.
Dressing her kill and preparing to head back to camp, Estree stopped at a clear stream where she had been drawing water since her stay in this area. She carefully placed her prey next to her as she knelt down and cupped some cool water in her hands. Splashing her face first, she allowed herself a moment of joy as her body instantly cooled off. Cupping her hands again, she drank deeply of the icy cold flow, a product of the nearby mountain’s icy caps reaching down as they melt into the many streams surrounding the Crystal Mountains. Like cascading fingers reaching out, these streams made the valley a rich place for foliage and wild game, but this season food had been scarce due to the long summer heat.
Estree looked down at the flowing water and watched her reflection shimmering on the water’s surface. Her sea green eyes were red from the splash of water on her face, her soft oval face pulled taut from hunger. She held a strand of her hair and realized just how long and tangled her natural curls had become. She wished so much for a soft bed and a long, warm bath in an inn, or for an afternoon in the hot springs near her hometown of Lystra, now so far away.
“No, I won’t think about it,” she said out loud, refusing to give in to the despair clinging to her, pulling her down with invisible hands as she fought for resolve. Estree fixed her hair as best she could, then washed her face a bit more. Her slender nose and high cheekbones had always made her stick out from the girls she trained with back in Lystra. Her hair, golden blonde and curly, seemed to mark her as different and she had always given a great deal of attention to her appearance. Her skin was now so tanned that she wondered if anyone at home would even recognize her. Estree had always had soft, lily-white skin. Now, it was a bronzish color, and she wondered if she would look this way forever.
Estree stood up, pulling her dark blue tunic down covering her leather armor and adjusting her black hose, now full of small holes and tears after her long journey through the wilderness. The tunic sported at its center the bright green serpent representing the kingdom of Ladonne, covered by a golden shield. She had debated on trading it for something that would avoid calling attention to her allegiance, but she
couldn’t bring herself to remove it and deny her country and her loyalty. Pulling her long, black boots up to her knees, she picked up the jackerwall and made her way back to her temporary home.
Home was a word she hated saying, mainly because it seemed so far away. She longed for it, thought about it relentlessly, but she knew that she had to press forward towards her destination. With a new resolve, Estree picked up the pace, hoping to arrive at camp before dark. Estree arrived at camp after a few long hours of walking as the afternoon began waning into dusk, excited to share her find with her companion. Gavis was the only other member of her division to live through the battle of Ceiron, where the forces of Ladonne had tried desperately to fend off the more powerful army of Leandras. The city had fallen after a grueling siege lasting over a month, and when the dust settled Estree had been pulled out of the wreckage of the city by Gavis, a second lieutenant. She was first lieutenant before the siege and had been given command after the lieutenant commander in charge of her division had fallen. Now, a division one hundred strong was down to two.
Her division had done their job, to slow down the forces of Leandras long enough for the rest of the army to escape to the north, back to the capital. Ceiron had been their last military garrison in the southern part of Eridonne, close to Andolin, the southernmost city in the Northern Kingdom. Now that Leandras’s forces had crushed their last garrison, all the armies of Ladonne could do was retreat to their capital. That was Estree’s destination, but to get there she would have to get through the enemy’s territory, which was vast.
Estree wondered if the lives of her division was a price too high to pay. Why her division and not another? It had passed through her head a thousand times, and she still couldn’t find an answer. She missed her friends, her commander, her identity as part of the Dragon’s Tail, as they were called. The Twelfth Division was one of the best, all hardy fighters that never lost a battle as a division. That is, of course, until they took on an army of thousands in a hopeless battle.
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