Tirion's POV
I turn the knife over and over again in my hand as I await the morning. My eye is not on the brightening sky or the sun that gradually illuminates us and, with its coming, marks the day of condemnation for two of us.
It is on the knife, making one repetitive whirl with every twist and rotation of my wrist; the silver blade, still shining with water from its recent cleaning in the stream, glints in the light of the newly breaking dawn and reflects my face, which I am satisfied to see is still impassive, and does not betray the worry that gnaws at my core.
The questions that always come on reaping day come now, when my thoughts turn dark and bloody and unnerving, and they swirl, slow and stagnant, like a sluggish whirlwind in my head.
Who is going? Will I know them? Will they be my friends, or someone I have only few memories of? Will it be me? How would I survive? What would happen to me? Or…Could it be Kaia, who is chosen?
I grimace as I consider the thought. Fate is terribly cruel to me. First my sister, then my father, then my brother were taken from me already; why not take my closest friend as well? Or take me, instead. I would actually prefer that, if not for the fact that if I were gone, my mother could die, sooner or later, without me to provide for us.
Life and death…soon or late…Everything that exists controls the existence of something else, in a way; and everything that happens will always affect something else. Something dies so something else may live. It seems to me to be like a chain that connects it all together.
I laugh softly as I catch myself thinking these things. I do sometimes delve into my mind and have these philosophical thoughts as I wonder about things. It's not a usual thing, as my mind is normally on more practical thoughts, such as bringing home food for my mother and I, and Kaia's family as well. I am grateful that my mind has snapped back into focus, because I see a nice meal walking blithely into the clearing before me.
It's a young deer, come to nibble the tender and sweet green grass of early summer in the bright clearing in front of the thick, dark edge of the forest where I lie in wait. It's a buck that's just matured out of fawn-hood, its new antlers short and still velvety, so it should be old enough to be cautious walking into an open place. That is, if it was familiar with human predators. Apparently it did not detect me as it strode out into the sunlight, not knowing that a human scent meant danger.
It's not careful at all. Pity. I'd be a fool to let such a bountiful kill as this go. Especially on reaping day. Fortunately, I've never been a fool. I planned on getting some good food for a special meal today, and this deer – a treasure trove of meat – will be perfect. Yes, I'll just get this and head home.
I reach slowly behind me to place the knife back in its sheath and then to reach an arrow. It's taking a chance, using the bow to kill this deer, but it's my current ambition to master the bow and arrow just as I have mastered the blade. Any knife or sword I can use well, to hunt or to fight with, though I have never had reason to do the latter.
I raise the bow with one hand and bring the arrow to the string with the other, never taking my eyes off the nonchalantly grazing deer. Every movement I make now is deliberate and careful, so as not to frighten the deer and lose it. I've learned how to mask my presence very effectively over the years, and my mother says I have a "natural stillness" in me. I pull the bowstring back, and let the arrow fly.
The arrow streaks over the grass, piercing through first the warm air, and then the hide and flesh of the deer's chest, lodging in the animal's heart. It falls instantly; I don't even think it knows what just happened to it. It's over in half a moment. Quick and relatively painless for the deer, a wonderful meal provided for me. Those two things make me feel better about killing almost each day. No – not better. I always feel a tiny twinge of uneasiness about taking life, even animal life to feed my family. Not better. Just more…I don't know. I don't much like the idea of killing, but still, it's preferable to the idea of starvation.
I walk out to the body of the deer, and with great difficulty take it and lift it partially over my shoulder. I put the bow back with my free hand, and heft the deer completely over my shoulders. It's exhausting work, but I can manage; I've done harder things before. It would be easier if I had a partner to hunt with, but Kaia won't do. She wanted to try it a couple years ago, because she wanted to help, and she tried her hardest to learn for an impressive while, but she never really got the hang of it.
I stop periodically on my way to the butcher's to check my snares and traps, and am pleased with what I've caught today. A belt of fat rabbits and squirrels and a couple of yellowish-pink-scaled fish. The herbs and plants piled in my game bag. Most are for food, but some are for healing. You never know when they might come in handy. It's often seemed to me that there are too many ways to hurt and not enough ways to be healed.
Under cover of predawn darkness, I make my way to the house of the butcher, Hezur. Thankfully, no one has seen me with this deer, and I'll get its full value. Hezur is always pleased to see me, since my hunts always provide her with fresh meat, and she is especially happy with such a bounty as this large buck.
"You make me rich, boy," Hezur rasps as she examines the deer to see what it's worth. "You just keep bringing me good meat and we'll stay good friends." She smiles widely, revealing a mouth missing several teeth, as she gives me a little bag fashioned out of scraps of burlap with my money inside.
"I'm sure we will, Hezur," I agree airily as I toss the bag in the air once and catch it, hearing the metallic jingling of the coins inside, and step out of her shop to go to the Hob and the back doors of the people of the district and trade the rest of my game. I intend to push for a little more with my trades today, and assemble that nice reaping day meal I want.
~0~