It was a cold spring morning; mist lightly covered the air and grass in the glade. A young girl’s leather boots crunched the dirt path leading up to a hill facing the sun. Her face wore a complicated look: lips bending into a weak smile, auburn eyes inflamed with determination surrounded by puffy skin. She continued walking closer and closer to the hill slowly, occasionally running a few steps before stopping right before the chance of tripping over the bulky green cloak she’s wearing presented itself.

She looked over to her right hand that tightly clutched a now crumpled piece of paper. The girl shook her long coal-black hair and continued walking, “Don't’ freak out, Meisla.” the young girl said to no one in particular as she sighed, unsuccessfully releasing her nervous thoughts.

“You may be late to see Varlo, but he won’t mind.” Meisla sighed again, feeling calmer as she approached the hill. Meisla spotted Varlo sitting in his usual spot on the hill facing the rising sun, quietly basking in the glow.

“Good morning Varlo!” Meisla shouted to him as excitement stirred within, and she ran up the hill toward him. “Sorry, I’m late. I must look so ridiculous! I was in such a rush to come here that I accidentally took Dad’s cloak.” Meisla said as she adjusted her white wool dress to sit next to Varlo.

“I stayed up last night, restringing my bow. Ugh, it was such horrible luck! I went out hunting yesterday and snagged a nice bunch of rabbits. When I started to head home, I spotted deer tracks. I followed them ever so quietly and found the largest deer you’ve ever seen. Just as I was about to fire…” She stood on her knees and stretched her arms out as if she’s holding her bow,

“The bowstring snapped, and it got away,” Meisla said, falling onto the grass dramatically. "I tried to tell Denlo what happened, and he just shrugged and went back into his room.” Meisla pouted.

Varlo did not respond.

He only sat there, staring solemnly at the sun.

Meisla looked at him and sighed, "All he ever does now is mope in his room all day. I keep asking him to meet us here, but he refuses. I mean, this was our favorite spot when we were younger, and he hasn’t seen you since you guys came back.” Meisla sat up, hugging her knees, and lowered her gaze to the ground.

“I got mad and yelled that he’d been a horrible older brother being mean to his little sister...and...and I said I’d ever rather have you at home than him.” She stopped to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“Mom got mad at me and told me to go clean the stables by myself, and when dad came home, he gave me an earful.” Meisla turned her face away from Varlo, tears flowing down her face, “I… I know what I said was wrong, but everything feels so different now. I’m practically going crazy. We were always there for each other when we were little, but now I feel so alone. Everyone in the village has been the same. They… they just moved on so fast when the war ended. I don’t know what to do. I miss you so much and Denlo too.” Meisla said as she touched Varlo’s headstone.

It was smooth to the touch as it sat facing a view of the shining ball of fire hovering above the mountain range, overlooking the glade. Behind it was a wooden box.

Meisla thought about how she, Varlo, and Denlo would watch the sunrise or sunset when they were kids. On the headstone, a carefully carved caption that read: Beloved Son, Brother, and Brave Soldier. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Meisla said as she uncrumpled the piece of paper. “The sketch I drew of the deer I talked about. Sorry about it being wrinkled.” The drawing was not bad; it was drawn with the hand of someone with years of practice under her belt. An outline of a large deer with long thin antlers that branch out and reach for the sky is in the center, surrounded by faded trees as it looked down at the ground. Its mouth frozen eternally mere inches away from the graphite marked grass. “Here, I’ll put it with the others,” Meisla said as she opened the box. Sketches of her family, the village they lived in, other villagers, and a dark forest filled the box halfway.

Meisla always took time out of the week to draw something for her brother. She was his favorite artist.

“Looks like it's getting full. I’ll have to ask Mom to make a new one for you.” Meisla got up and placed the box back in its spot behind the headstone. She paused and looked at the morning sky. Soaking in the sky and enjoying the moment with her brother.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” Meisla said, looking over at the headstone. "There’s been a rumor going around that some adventurers are coming to hunt down the Mage of Darlocke Forest. Who knows, maybe they’ll finally catch him. If they do, I’ll be the first one to explore the forest and sketch whatever is in there.” All of the villagers knew the stories. The elders made sure of it.

Darlocke Forest was a sacred place with majestic temples to worship the Gods. People from all over would pilgrimage to the woods beyond their humble and modest village, hoping to connect with the divine and have their prayers answered. Then the Mage appeared hidden in a cloak black as shadows, defiled the temples, and took control of the forest himself. No one knew the identity of the Mage. All the people knew was that those who enter the woods return with a wild look in their eye, like a child after a nightmare where all the evils in the dark haunted them, or they do not return at all.

Although people no longer traveled to Darlocke Forest, every year around spring, Meisla remembered seeing various adventurers and mercenaries hoping to make quick coin off a village rumor, noblemen and women temporarily leaving their lavish homes hoping to win a bet. Foolish scholars and sages wanting to solve the mystery of the heretical mage. Meisla couldn’t help but feel bad as all of them would boast to the poor helpless village people about how strong or cunning they were and that a mere mage could not defeat them, only to later run out of the village screaming.

“You always loved seeing those people come to the village. So I’ll sketch them and show you the drawings the next time I visit.” Meisla said as she started heading down the hill. “Hopefully, I can bring Denlo too. See you next time Var.” The young sister left as her brother stood looking over the hill, basking in the sun, peaceful and silent.