The cold and unforgiving wind cut through my skin as I ran across the field, spear in hand. The bull was infront of me now charging at me at full speed. His muscles bulging under his skin, each step of his hooves against the snowy ground sending vibrations across the plains. I could feel his power from the ground itself, clumps of dirt being thrown behind him as he charged towards me. The elements surrounding him twisting and burned in hot fire as if to menace me with his terrible visage in displays more than what his mere physical body could express. We were close now, he had lowered his head and prepared his horns, both as large as my torso itself, and prepared to mount my body as a trophy upon his head. I readied my own spear preparinfg to lunge at him, strike at him, render the beast dead and make his skull a trophy of my might instead. He was close. I could smell him from here, another step of his hooves and he would meet my spear, his life taken by the rashness of his charge. Wake up. I side stepped at the last moment, grabbing the spear one handed and threw it forward into the chest of the mighty auroch, sending me to the ground in safety and him fruitlessly forward. Attie, wake up. Quickly turning and rolling on the ground, I made myself steady on my feet and looked towards the direction of the beast. But he wasn't there.

"Attie, Attie! Wake up, you have to meet the Chief now, Attie. You've slept enough, now get up," a shaking of my body, a masculine voice intruded upon my hunt. My hunt? The hunt, the one I had not yet played a part in. Through crusted eyelids I peered at the dark silhouette of a man. His clean shaven face unlit and dark, the face of my dad was making me up from my sleep. It was time to get up.

"Daddy you're too loud," Ita mumbled under the blanket. The most expensive thing within our families possession, it was a large patchworked piece of linen that we would throw over ourselves before going to sleep. We slept together, side by side, close by to the fire but not close enough to risk burning or overheating. Daddy was in fact being pretty loud, with agitation coming through his voice he continued.

"Sorry Ita, daddy didn't mean to wake you. Get up Attie, it's time for you to go with the chief," getting up out of his squatting position he stood waiting for me to make my way up. I had on only my pair of trousers, for wearing the tunic under the blankets was too hot, so I got up and gave my share of the blanket to Ita, who I had been sleeping next to, and made my way towards the entrance. The entrace would always remain open. Some families would have furs or fabrics to the opening but our family chose not to. My tunic was close by, I had left it next to a small collection of wooden figure toys. Reaching down to pick it up I felt the coldness of the cloth and put it over myself, one hole through and then another, finally my head popping out and the faded blue tunic being on. It draped a moderate amount under my waist, probably in preparation for my future growth.

"I'll make sure you have everything you need, go talk to your mom outside. She wants to have a word with you," dad says, looking for an excuse to not idle. I nodded, grabbing my rope which I used as a belt along with me.

Walking outside and seeing the land lightly covered with snow I took in a deep breath and a long exhale followed. Closing my eyes and rubbing the crust away I look around for any signs of my mother. Didn't take very long to know her position by a light clearing of a throat, coming from behind and to the left of me.

"Attie," mom's voice came softly. I turned around to face my mom, her head covered by the hood of her light crimson cloak. A light amount of snow having had formed ontop it. She had herself bundled up as if wearing a blanket, which a cloak functionally did serve the role of. Lowering her hood and loosening the cloak's hold on her, she begins to speak. "I won't take too much of your time. I know you're growing older now and that you have a will of your own, and I know there will be a time when you'll start your own family with your own house, perhaps within Dorcha's hut itself," her words steady and her voice clear she continued. "I know despite how little you can communicate you are anything but dull, but you are still a kid. You are still my child. The other women in the village would celebrate with their sons their achievements, their glories won in war and in hunts, but I know how many of those same sons died in pointless battles trying to earn pointless honor," stopping herself before saying anything she didn't truly mean she stopped and chose again her words.

"I've taken part in son's funerals and seen their mother's and father's mourning. I want you to know that I think you've growing up to be a fine young man, that you are fine as you are, that you do not have to prove yourself to me, your father, or anyone else," mom says to me with a teary voice.

She walks up to me and places a shaking hand on my cheek. "I don't want to lose you Attie. Please don't be reckless." Placing her lips on my forehead she hugs me, looks at my face once, and makes her way back inside. I had no words in response to that. It felt as if she stabbed at the heart of my desire, cooling my blood and my spirit in a paradoxically warm embrace. I could not do anything in return, not a word or 'I love you' back. I didn't even hug her back.

Dad made his way towards me, glancing at his wife and back to me. He held my cloak in his hands and three pouches, one full of various charms and various ointments, another two days worth of dried berries and jerky, and the finally a waterskin presumably full of water. With a knowing smile he asks me, "Ready to go?" I nodded.

"Wait here then, I have go grab the spear and club. Do you want me to come with you?" I shook my head at that. Dad handed me the two bags and cloak, the cloak I put on and tied quickly, and then headed back inside and gently grabbed two items. Coming back to me, watching me as I tied my cloak firmly against my chest, and then tying the three bags of stuff onto my belt, he handed me the spear and club. I grabbed, but he held onto both as I pulled. I looked at his face and saw him misty eyed, although hard to tell considering how little light there was outside and that the fire was directly behind him, but he quickly let go and looked away.

"Be safe out there, Attie. Alaunus' touch be with you," he finishes it off with that and heads deeper inside. Towards his axe, most likely. I nodded to no one, and headed towards Ronan's house. He did not say the name of a hunting God or Goddess, no, but instead the God of healing.

The day was beginning. The sky's still dark with clouds, small lumps of airy snow still falling, and the stars obstructed from sight, one couldn't really tell if the sun was triumphing once again over the night or if it was just dead midnight. Something in the air told me the sun would break through, though, so I trusted my parents and their decision to wake me up now and walked towards chief Ronan's roundhouse. Placing my club into my belt as I went along and trying to find the most comfortable position to hold the spear with. Standing at just six feet tall, close to a foot longer than I am, finding such a position was proving a bit difficult. Suddenly remembering how some warriors of our village carried their spears when walking, I positioned the butt of the spear on my left palm and rested the rest of the spear on my shoulder, but it immediately became obvious this wouldn't work.

First, the spear was too long and thus extended too far above my own head, making it too wobbly and unbalanced. I dropped the butt of the spear and let it fall into the ground and grabbed it a bit lower than the center and tried walking again. I did not want to walk with the spear's point facing infront of me as I might accidentally impale someone either running or walking, so I laid it to rest on my left shoulder and walked. This proved to be much more effective. Why I didn't do this to begin with I had no idea.

Seeing the sight of small shadowy figures standing next to a small fire near to the chief's roundhouse I picked up my pace. My heart was beating in my chest in loud thumps, slower rather than faster in anticipation of what was to come. Although I would listen to my mom's warning of not being reckless, I must do something worthy of a man of age if only to prove to myself I am not a coward. reaching the roundhouse I came to the attention of one large man and another more moderately sized one.

"Is that the boy? Attie, the one who can't speak," spoke a voice, sounding as if coming from the moderately sized one. They both were standing next to the fire, cloaks dangling over their bodies and a spear by the larger one's side, the smaller one carried smaller javelins.

"Probably. Boy, clap for us if you are," the taller voice spoke. Most likely Ronan himself. I put down my spear and clapped once I had gotten close enough, picked it up again and made it all the way to the man I suspect to be Ronan. "It is then."

"You're here real early, too excited for the hunt I would guess," the smaller man said, which in reply I gave a nod. "Really can't speak at all can you? Faery took your voice?" I shrugged, for as long as I could remember I couldn't speak. Only during painful moments did I let out a peep.

"He used to cry as a babe," Ronan adding further detail to the conversation continued, "but stopped one day after Rowen went into the forest in a fit of anger over his constant crying, leaving him with his father, Neill. So I've heard from Neill, at least." Looking up at the large man I showed no sign of affirmation or dismissal. I've never even heard of this story before. He looks down at me, presumably with eyebrows held high and begins to speak again.

"Parents never told you? Words better left unsaid, then. No matter," motioning his hand at the smaller man Ronan picks up an introductory tone, "This hear is Travers, my son. He'll be participating in the hunt as well. Since you can't introduce yourself back we'll leave it at that."

I nod. We stayed there for a bit longer, staring into the fire as everyone decided there would be no more conversation. Presumably Ronan on his part wanted more people around before he would start talking of what to expect in the hunt. None of his other children seemed to be nearby, thankfully, and neither were his two wives. I was curious, but I couldn't ask, so I stood in silence after dropping the butt of the spear into the ground.

Time passed on and more people trickled in, carrying spears and bows, and occasionally leather bags full of javelins. Each man carried pouches of food stuff, some more than others. Most of the men looked to be in their early twenties, but some had heavily weathered features and graying hairs of those probably slightly too old to join in a hunt. Light had begone to poke through the clouds, and it was at this point when presumably everyone involved in the hunt had arrived. The herbalist was yet to be seen but it shouldn't take too long for her to arrive. Young boys around and younger than my age were joining, it seemed. Small talk of daily happenings were whispered between the villagers, questions like how their pigs were doing getting around most often. One pig appeared to be a bit sick, another was too fiesty and bitey so he had to be put down, but other than that nothing interesting entered my ears. When the raven haired herbalist arrived, at this time the world being encased by enough light to see her coming from afar with Brenna and Doireann in tow, the chief decided to give his speech and instructions.

"Everyone has gathered?" Ronan looked at each of us, not expecting an answer and not waiting for one, "If not, then those who are late are not needed. You all know what the hunt will be, but to give you the basics of it, we will be hunting an auroch bull. If we are lucky and Nodens with us then it will take only a day to find him. If not, then expect two or three days. If we can not find him in ten days we will return. If Nodens truly doesn't want us to hunt, then we will stop before the end of ten days, as to not anger him or risk his ire." Staring at each of us in turns he finishes his small speech, "understood?"

Voices of understanding resounded from the crowd. The boys a mix of tentative fear and over eagerness, but I could only give a nod in return. Perhaps I could tap my club against my spear in agreement but none of the adults seemed to be all that interested or eager. Perhaps they were expecting the auroch to be found not today but another one and refused to bring up their spirits for something that will not come. Whatever the reason, Ronan continued.

"Good. Dorcha and her apprentice, Attie, will be joining us. I and the hunter Lochlann, and his own son Aiden, will lead the front. Those younger then fifteen winters will be expected to stay towards the back, hopefully around those stronger. Do not stray, I do not want to waste time trying to find lost children or fools. Now prepare, there are some things I wish to discuss with Dorcha about."

True to his word Ronan went directly towards the herbalist, passing through the center of the villagers and to where Dorcha stood. Brenna eyeing the crowd for something before laying rest on me, smiling slightly and then heading towards me. We were not far, if she only projected her voice a bit louder I could've heard her as if she were talking right next to me. But she had decided to come within arms length of me before speaking.

"I wasn't told you were joining," she began, "Or did you join last minute?" A nod from me. She hums, eyeing me oddly with an expression I had not seen her make with me save for the day after having learned of my ability to see elements. She continues, "fancy yourself a hunt, then. Good luck, and don't get hurt, Attie." She comes in for a hug and I respond in kind, although I truthfully don't understand the point of her hug, which she holds for a second and then parts. With a smile she heads back to her mother, slightly interrupting her talk with the chief and hugs her as well. Grabbing Doireann by the hand she makes her way back to her home with a parting wave, which I responded to as well.

Phelan himself was nearby, next to two girls and of course one large boy. Boy was too small of a word for the strength the boy was wielding, but he would still be called a boy for now. Dylis and Gráinne were idly speaking encouragements to both Phelan and Éamonn. The two girls, one blond another with hair slightly red, were close friends and commonly placed themselves next to both Phelan and Éamonn. Both are generally nice but aren't afraid to state their views on things if given the chance. On that I'd rather not dwell, and each of them would ignore me for now. Here I took measure of the men and children who will join in the hunt. Ten men, as I had known already, and three boys. Four if I were counted among them. So I waited, alone and with no one to talk or gesture with. Admittedly this was extremely common, it was not just due to the omen of loss I carried with me, my lack of voice that people did not talk to me, it was that I really couldn't respond.

"Everyone follow me," came the loud voice of Ronan, hoping to pierce through the idle chatters of the rest with his own voice. It had worked, everyone had quieted down and turned to look at the chief as he walked by. Villagers picked up their things and walked behind the chief, to the trees without leaves and to the taiga that lone bulls walked.

---

Half a day of walking has passed. The sun had passed his height and he had begun to make his way back into the earth, taken by the moon and left her to reign in dark terror. At least that is what my parents will tell me, the sun would only fall and leave the moon to her slow crawl across the sky, as he had during the day. I was breathing with some amount of exertion, warm clouds leaving my mouth and dissipating into the air. Most of the adults did the same, as we had been walking through forest and into increasingly higher and higher ground. Although we weren't yet marching into mountains, although the mountains certainly were close, we were walking on a slow but steady incline into an area barely inhabited by humanity. Large plains would be normal within the area of land we were heading towards, although no aurochs would be seen grazing as the ground would be covered by snow, aurochs would be nearby. Hopefully bulls.

To add to the increasing height of the land, the snow was getting gradually deeper. Whereas in the village snow was both uncommon and sparse, it would only at best reach half an inch, here the ground was starting to suck our feet under. Why the chief decided to hunt within the week of heavy snowfall would be anyone's guess. Everyone had given up speaking in favor of simply walking, both to not impede in breathing and having already gone through most conversational topics. All save for the voice of Éamonn who was encouraging his younger brother, a boy not quite of his size but large and significantly younger. Half his age, I would think Éamonn had goaded him into joining the hunt and the boy obliged. The amount of boys that had joined the group could be counted on one hand, me included.

The herbalist walked ahead, not at all out of breath and keeping steady near the front of the group. Ronan, the hunter and his son Aiden lead the pack and showed the way through the easiest route through the forest. The snow wasn't so deep as to force me to walk within the cleared paths of others but I do imagine it would reach that point soon. Éamonn's younger brother was panting heavily, but no one offered him help. Most likely they would only give him help once he collapsed from exhaustion, if he had decided to join the hunt he had better been resolved to do that much I would think.

It was at roughly this point that I had spotted the first pine tree. Slightly reddish in tint, a long and thin trunk extended itself above the forest trees and displayed something none other had kept - its leaves. A stark contrast between the rest of the forest and the new, pine filled forest was surprising. Where the oaks and birchs would lean or gnarl itself whenever it suited its fancy, these trees grew straight and proud into the sky. I had been out here occasionally to gather specific herbs, but I was not all that familiar with the land. Extending my neck to look at the first pine tree's peak, I stood and let others pass by. Admiring new sights isn't a bad habit to get into. But I'd rather not be left behind, taking my sights away from the tree I continued with the rest of the group to the new leaves filled forest.

The day was giving way to darkness, and the shadows of the forest crept across the ground in large straight trails of darkened land. Slowing footsteps and crunches could be heard all around me, the men exhausted and, in the case of Éamonn's brother he had collapsed an hour ago. I wouldn't blame him, but Éamonn had been forced to carry the extra weight of a seven year old on his back for a while now. Even he was breathing heavily under the strain. We had made it into a small clearing, presumably and hopefully to finally finish the day off and rest.

"Alright, today's march is over. I had no expected to us to find an auroch today, and the light will soon make it very difficult for us to set up camp. Those who are willing, go collect as much dry wood as you can get. That is all," Ronan says, confirming my hopes. A small wave of approvals could be heard by the crowd around me. I had no tent and no blankets of either fur or wool, but my cloak would most likely serve me fine for the night as long as I stick by a fire, at the worst. Some of the men had decided to sit down next to a tree, others on rocks, most likely to simply rest but some were rubbing their feet, shoes off. Deciding the best course of action would be to tend to any blisters or sprains of any who asked. Taking out a small bundle of slightly dried out ground-ivy leaves. Although I did have strings that I could use to fasten the leaves to the person, I'd rather save those for more serious injuries if possible.

Despite being tired myself, I was much more use to walking through the forest than the majority here. Leaning my spear against the tree I walked up to a man, bag of herbs in hand, and ruffled it as to catch his attention. The man, who I suspect to be Oisín the man with the second most amount of woolly pigs in the village, groggily looks up to inspect the noise.

"What is it you want, lad?" he starts up before noticing the leaves I held in my left hand, and the bag next to it, then finally my face, "oh, Attie? Come to ask if I need any help? Don't bother, I'm just tired not hurt. Go tend to someone else," I nodded and made my way to the next man. The herbalist herself looked to be doing the same, albiet she had already found a man in actual need of help.

Again making the same ruffling sound I picked up this one's attention. Red hair and the characteristic yellow eyes of our village looked back at me, a long, young and thin face slightly grimaced in pain. Having had been inspecting rather than simply letting rest his feet I had assumed he was having some sort of trouble, "If it ain't Attie, here to heal me wounds are ya? Take a lookie here then, I've gotten myself a blister on me feet. Think you could handle it for me?" Crouching down and inspecting his feet, which slightly smelled, he indeed had several blisters. Grabbing a single leaf in my right hand I prepared a small spell in preparation for the healing. Gathering the moisture, the elemental water, in the air, small whispy lines of light blue, I coalesced the moisture into the leaf as to rehydrate it. Then I felt for the life inside the leaf and flooded it slightly with my own life essence, a light yellow mass of fire warmed the leaf up. Not visible to anyone but those with sight, the fire was not a manifested one. Gently placing it on a single blister, I moved the energy into the man and watched as it healed his blister, the leaf slightly withering as if rapidly aging. I did it again across his foot until the leaf fell apart to dust in my hands.

Truthfully the correct method as taught to me by the herbalist requires me to take the fire essence of the sun, or some other warm source, and imbibe the leaf with it. But controlling the energies of anything outside my body was simply too difficult for me. I could not, I had to focus immensely on simply controlling the essences of plants that I could touch directly, which in comparison to the faint elements that surrounded me was immense in concentration. Easiest way was to simply move the energies within my body, something that I could beat both Brenna and the herbalist in doing. But this served to help me with nothing but my own healing.

Having finished up one of his foot I gestured for the other. Repeating the same motion as I had done before with a new leaf, the man was cleared of his blisters and gave me thanks. This continued twice more, as there was only two more people who needed help and had not already been tended to by the herbalist. Seeing that my work was done, I decided to help in the collection of fire wood. Some men who had managed to find a source of dry wood in this snowy weather were trying to start a fire with the wood that they had already collected, difficult given the wet conditions we were dealing with. The effort attracted the attention of the herbalist and brought her over. With some slight concentration she weaved a spell, taking the light of the sun and twirling it around her finger in a pattern I could not discern, and started a small fire barely a centimeter in diameter. She then lit the soon to be camp fire for them. The intricacies of her spell I could not fully see, I perhaps more perplexed by the action than those who could not themselves see the weaving of the elements. With a small swell of gratitude from the men she went back and started to clear up an area to sleep on. She had brought no tent but did carry a couple of rolls of deer fur blankets on her.

She started clearing an area of snow, at this point probably a foot in depth, but quickly realized the futility of it. Deciding that I had better ways to spend my time than to watch my master rest, I went over to the men with the fire and caught their attention with another ruffle of my bag. Catching both of their attentions, they looked at me quizzically. Lifting an empty hand and pointing towards the fire and then making a shrugging motion, they caught the picture of what I was asking about.

"If ya want a fire then you'd best find your own firewood. If ya want to share a fire, then help with the collection of the wood. We had found a couple of leaning dead trees and collected the branches, and had been told to start with the making of the fire as to prepare for the logs," one man spoke, a blue eyed and blond haired man of about the mid twenties. His hands were rough and scarred from constant heavy labor and work, a trait not all that uncommon for the men of any village. "Although on second thought, probably best if you just stay back and do your own thing, herb boy. Don't worry about the fire."

"How come he can't help? He's got hands and feet don't he?" said the other man, ginger haired and slightly younger than his friend.

"Herb boy can't talk. Might not be that big of a deal when workin' alone as a herbalist but the long logs require some amount of communication to carry and deal with. Better worth all our time if we did our own thing and his his own," the blond man replied. Less work for me, I guess. Scratching my head, with a scrunch of snow I turned and walked towards the herbalist to see if I could do anything of help.

"Can't be all that big a deal to not be able to talk. Never heard why he can't speak, anyway," the voice of the ginger man continued the conversation.

"Aye, why can't an armless man shake hands. Asking those kinds of questions is pointless, Oscar. I've seen him in tumbles fighting with all he's got and not let out anything but his own breath. A pity, he's not a bad kid overall, a bit strong willed though," those fights were never initiated for fun, never really fair, and I can't say anything in retaliation against it. No fights have stopped with me truly winning, and since no one will pay attention to me tapping out or giving up it'll continue till the other kids are bored, or an adult catches the kids being too rough. They've simply moved the attacks to place where it can not be stopped.

I've always healed much faster than most kids, so no injury truly puts me out for long. Perhaps more of a curse than a blessing as it only incentivizes rougher attacks against me. Perhaps if it were fair I would be fun to stay on edge for a random bout of wrestling, but whatever fair fights I do get will inevitably be ones where winning means facing another opponent immediately. At least they don't beat me with rocks. I had learned what they'll do to me when I try to ambush any of their own members in return. I might be disliked by the kids for my lack of voice and my association with my master, a dark haired woman with skin a shade of constant brown, but it's not murderous rage. For the past two years the bullying has not been so severe and has almost exclusively turned only to verbal insults, most of which I have long since learned to let run off me, and while I do hold indignation for the past I am not willing to exact revenge. I would lose, my family would starve over having to pay the fines of severe injury or murder, and I would turn into an outlaw and inevitably die. The herbalist is not hated or even disliked by the adults even if they prefer to keep a distance from her in times outside of needing her healing, I have hope that those same kids will learn to respect my ability and ignore what I lack.

If the men did not want me to work then so be it, more time for myself.

I decided to sit down next to a tree and idle around for the rest of the day, first taking long gulps of my water and also to eat my berries and dried meat. The meat was salty, but that wasn't unwelcome as the taste of salt after a long day of exercise was good. I idled until sleep took me. Hopefully not before a fire had been started, but it was not so cold as to force me to sleep next to a heat source. As it turned out, the realm beyond would take me in sleep before that would happen.

---

The scrunching of snow, and the jabbering of men had woken me up from my cold sleep. The night had been broken once again and it was time to get back to walking. Through groggy eyes I stood up, inspecting my things for anything missing and looking around for any source of danger. Last night I had probably not been as careful as I should've been, I neither checked the forest for any signs of animals and did not check to see if any watches were being organized. Although I wouldn't have been asked to take the role of a lookout, considering I had no voice to warn others with. Men were organizing themselves and getting ready to go on the journey once again, and no one pestered me despite what I perceive to be my failings.

The same monotony of walking through forest. Pines instead of oak, leaves although needle like, and snow now forcing me to walk the path of the rest. Everyone was somewhat tired but no one complained, not even Éamonn's little brother would let out any complaints. Maybe out of not having the air to, or maybe out of determination to not make himself look stupid, but he carried on. His feet were most likely heavily blistered, but Éamonn in his arrogance probably forgot to even check that. Whatever was driving that small boy forward should be the story of epics. But besides that, the treading over snow continued.

Catching sight of the group ahead I had noticed Aiden was no longer with Ronan or the hunter. Had he gotten tired of being among the first to break through the snow? I couldn't see him anywhere within the group, but I couldn't ask either. I would have to trust that his dad wasn't so uncaring as to simply forget his own son.

It was at about this moment when a small man, most likely a kid my own age, covered by a white cloak bumped past me. His breathing was heavier than the rest of ours, but it only took me a moment to recognize the owner of the cloak being Aiden. His cloak had been intentionally dyed white as to better serve as camouflage in this snowy landscape. Despite his heavy breathing he continued forward, slowly walking through the crowd and into the front. It was there that I saw Aiden speak to Ronan about something followed by what looked like a nod from the chief.

Ronan turned and walked slightly to the left. Perhaps Aiden went ahead of the group in order to more silently find and locate an auroch bull? Most likely. If Ronan had seriously wanted to find the bull he would've had us split up to find one, preferably in groups rather than with single men. But he had decided to do just that with a teenager not even an adult yet. Perhaps this was customary and being so efficient with hunting simply wasn't necessary. Perhaps the show of walking in a group against an enemy was more important than efficiency. Whatever the reason we walked in a new direction, curving slightly and into lower grounds.

The sun was still fresh but the morning air was beginning to vanish, burnt and transmuted into the familiar sensation of noon. We were walking alongside the edges of a clearing, walking with purpose towards a destination that I did not know when would come, but certainly knew what to expect when we arrived. All here could sense the coming battle, many a face hardened and watched warily towards both the clearing and deeper into the woods. My own heartbeat could be heard in my ears, hard beats of drums getting louder as the world quieted and begun to fall into focus.

The hunter stopped ahead of us, looking not towards the clearing but into the forest. His head turned to the left, Ronan himself quickly turned to see what the hunter was was looking at. I turned my eyes in a similar direction but could not see a bull. Ronan turned towards the hunter and seemed to ask him a question, whatever answer he gave looked to have satisfied the chief and consequently he decided to give us some orders. Non-verbal, he lifted up his hands as to signal us to stop our movements. Everyone stopped and waited for the next command. The hunter and Ronan went on ahead, both of their cloaks white and harder to spot in this snowy landscape. Were they going to attract the bull somehow? Were they planning to bring him into the clearing rather than have us all fight him within the forest, within the protection of trees?

Aiden decided to speak, his voice calm and clear but quiet, "the chief and the hunter will find the bull and report back to us. When either of them come back we will go and hunt the bull in full. When the bull is close enough in range you are allowed to use your weapons, and that will be the beginning of the hunt. We will have the advantage of numbers, but be careful. A kick or a charge will be fatal." He looked across our faces and nodded his head, he waited for a while, keeping sight along the trail.

The clearing was circular, or really an oval if one wanted to be technical. Roughly a mile in diameter it was a pretty large clearing, but the fight will most likely take place within the forest instead. After some time Aiden started to get anxious. This was taking longer than he had thought, most likely. Deciding the best course of action he beckoned us to all go forward with him into the forest. We walked a while following along the trail of the chief and the hunter. After some treading we started to hear shouting, and the sight of two men going against a bull.

Noticing the sight of Ronan's characteristic multi-colored cloak of red and green we stopped. He and the hunter were engaging in a dance with the bull, dodging before the bull rammed into them they jumped and tumbled. Ronan's right arm was heavily bleeding, but the bull was in worse form. Slashes and arrows poked out of him in areas, but not enough to even the odds against him. This was not part of the plan, neither of them could really disengage safely without putting harm to the person left behind. Aiden ran forward and knocked an arrow onto his string, having taken out an arrow from his quiver tied to his right hip, and shouted, "follow!"

"Throw your spears and javelins!" the hunter shouted followed by another loud command from Ronan, "Attie, give me your spear! The damned beast has broken my own spear after he charged me!"

Giving Ronan my spear? But I needed it to fight. What am I to do without it, throw my club at the bull? Shout encouragements? Dance with them and expose myself unhelpfully towards both the dangers of stray projectiles and the bulls own might? Boiling anger took hold of my core, but it quickly simmered away as I realized Ronan's life was at stake here. I may not be able to fight but I could do other things, like heal. Ronan moved away from the bull as his men started to pelt the bull with javelins, not yet shooting any arrows. I threw my own spear towards Ronan, making sure not to directly aim towards him although I was not the best javelin or spear thrower myself, and with grace he grabbed the spears before it could land on the ground, slightly spinning in place as to stop the momentum of the spear from puting him too off balance. The bull was paying attention more to the hunter and his new enemies than to the re-armed chief.

The chief, one-armed and tired, watched as more javelins were thrown at the bull. The bull was breathing heavily, frothing at the mouth trying to decide what to do and how. He charged towards the javelin throwers, ignoring the hunter and his eye catching movements. They in turn hid behind trees, stopping the bull from being able to bring the greatest of his might easily. The bull ran around the men, trying to find one who wasn't quick enough, but could find no man slow enough to catch. Frustrated, having had been thrown more javelins into his bulky and athletic dark body, stained by his own blood, he charged back towards the hunter. But a single man who had hidden behind the tree both out of sight of the bull and the bull out of his sight, he made an error and stood behind the auroch. Less than a split second was needed for the bull to register an enemy, and with a jump he kicked the man squarely in the chest. A loud crack was heard as he fell to the snow, the bull turning and gouging at him with his horns.

It was not the first time I've encountered death, but not through a means so violent. Children might fall to illness, adults grow old and die, but to see a man so brutally killed ignited something in my stomach. I was in the back near my master during all this, just to pretend I was some help in this fight I decided to act as her bodyguard. She didn't mind, nor care, but simply watched as the men dealt with the auroch. That was until the man had his chest caved in by a single poweful kick of the bull, and subsequently gouged and flipped around on the floor. Men poured at him, some with spears, and attacked at the bull with whatever weapons they had. Some stabbed him with spears, others throwing javelins a very short distance away. The herbalist stood her place, her face knitted in worry.

Help

I turned my head suddenly. I heard a voice behind us. I couldn't tell to who the voice belonged to, but the voice was there. Over the shouting of the men and the war cry of the Chief as he plunged my spear deep into the flesh of the bull, a full on charge by the man, and pushed the auroch as best he could away from the most likely already dead man. It was vicious and awe-inspiring, and almost caught my attention again.

Help me!

Turning back towards the voice, tapped at the herbalist, upsetting her and making her flinch, and ran towards the sound. Ignoring the small shout of the herbalist of where I was headed, I ran. Someone was out there. The voice did not sound old, incredibly young and high-pitched. But it gave way to a screech. I made for a full on sprint through the snow, as fast as I could despite the impeding nature of it's existence. The screeching did not die out, as if trapped within the bony hands of death the young voice filled the air with the sounds of his heart wrenching fear, the voice tapering out in thin lines of pain. And then I heard grunting, and the sound of a body being moved arouned in snow. And a brown mass biting the shoulder of a child, a young and stout boy I recognized to be Éamonn's little brother.

A bear was biting at him, ripping his flesh and making him bleed heavily. The snow was dyed in red already. The boy tried his best to beat the bear off of him, using his hands ineffectually against the face of the bear. He had a stick at one point, I knew, but he must've dropped it or the stick had been taken away by some force. I stood paralyzed for a second, a long and surreal second, until the boy caught sight of my arrival. Through soaked eyes he began to speak. Red fire surrounded the boy, elementals I have not seen before floating and whispering words of triumph and despair.

"Help me! The bear! A bear, he's biti- agh, no,"

The bear moved down from the shoulder and bit into the neck of the boy, despite the boy trying his best to stop his movements. I sprang into motion, my breathing having been already heavy after running all the way out here. I didn't know what to do, how does one deal with a bear? Go for the eyes, for it's snout, beat him. Do not get under him. The bear was emaciated, thin and skinny he still had strength enough to bite through the boy's tender neck. I slammed my club against the back of his head, as I was behind him.

The bear grunted and let go of the boy, turning to me and got up, blood soaked teeth greeting me, sloppy lips exposing his teeth. The blow barely affected him, if it did he didn't show it. He ran quickly to me, to overpower me, to stop me from stealing his kill. I beat at him with my club as I back pedaled, his head letting out sounds of whacks through the forest. But I couldn't get enough hits in before he lounged at me and tackled me to the snow below.

With a small grunt of impact against the relatively soft snow, I shifted my hold of the stick to two hands instead of one. Pushing my club against his neck, against his lower jaw as to stop him from biting at me, his claws scraped against my skin and ripped my cloak apart. His breath stank of rotten meat, letting out in near howls against my face, spittles of spit and blood landing over my face. My skin soon followed the tearing of the cloak, small valleys of red being painted across my arms, back, and chest, ripping pains shot through. It looked like it should've hurt more, but in truth it was more of a minor annoyance compared to the reality of a bear trying to kill me. He was strong, and if this were to continue I would be killed by this bear. My efforts in vain. The fire, almost pulpy in consistency, elements surrounded and spread itself through me and the bear. Perhaps we both were unconsciously breathing in more than simply air, but the red mist of blood as well. Or perhaps my sight simply, in this moment of life and death, allowed me to see something that I couldn't see before.

Pointless noise, pointless sights, a pointless vision that granted me no advantage. The strength of the beast as it tried to move past my club, ripping and pulling at my arm with strength I haven't even felt even with adults. I couldn't imagine what a fully fed bear would be like, if this is what a starving one was able to do to me. The bear had realized that he didn't have to bite at only my neck or skin, and decided to bite hard against the flesh of the wood. He shook my club, rubbing it coarsely at times against my skin, until I was finally forced to let go. My arms free, I tried to climb out from under the bear, punching his face and gouging at his eyes as best as I could.

There was no release, no scooting away as the bear kept pushing himself over me, and the bear only grunted and roared under the pain. I would die here.