Eamden woke up wearily in the middle of Aneren's camp. It was nothing small area cut out from the surrounding foliage. A testament to his unity with nature, and his divergence from society.

As Eamden stood up, he saw a red apple delicately placed on a flat stone. The word "EAT" scratched into the dirt next to it. With silent thanks to Aneren, the young Night Elf picked it up, and took a large bite out of it, savoring the fruits sweet taste. After finishing his breakfast, he sat quietly and waited a few more minutes before Aneren finally appeared silently from behind the brush, his brow creased in worry.

The two Elves sat quietly until Eamden tried to break the uncomfortable silence. "Thank you for breakfast." He said, respectful to his elder.

Aneren snapped out of his trance like thought, and smiled warmly. "Your thanks are appreciated, young one."

Eamden swallowed the lump in his throat. "Is my mom?.." he said, each word hurting more than the last.

Aneren sighed, knowing he couldn't lie to him. "Yes, she has passed on."

The young elf felt tears slowly creep up. He wouldn't let himself cry, and fought them back fiercely.

"Do not weep for her, Eamden. Your mother has lived with virtue and compassion. It is tragic how she lost her life, but I know in my heart that she's watching over you right now. To see you mourn her death is the worst pain of all."

Eamden attempted to sit stand up, but his legs couldn't support him, and he fell, raggedly, back to the ground. His throbbing head felt twice as large as before.

Aneren snapped to his feet, and helped Eamden up. "Are you ill?"

"..No, I'm just….I don't know." He said his balance slowly returning. "I just don't know what will happen to me now that I have no home."

Aneren thought deeply, then came his conclusion. "Eamden, there is something I believe you should see. Will you follow me?"

The young elf was puzzled by his request, but nodded, despite the situation. The two of them walked through the woods, observing the beauties of the peaceful forest as they traveled. It was Eamden who still retained his worry, and was cautious with every step.

"What troubles you?" Aneren asked, sensing the young elf's wary behavior.

"Where are the Orcs?" Eamden asked with venom in his words. "There were many the night before."

"I drove them off. They will not return here."

"I hate them." He mumbled. "I wish they were dead.."

The young elf received a stern look from his elder. "Do not harbor such hatred, Eamden, it is a terrible thing to bare. Many bright souls have eroded to darkness because of it.

Eamden immediately felt his anger washed over by a feeling of regret. "I'm sorry..I...I don't know what to think anymore."

"We are all bound together by fate, young one. Orc, human, elf, troll. There is little difference. If one of us is extinguished, we are all effected. A true hunter is not one who is ruled by his hatred for others, but one who understands the balance of all life and chooses to maintain it, and protect it from those who would cause it harm." Aneren lowered himself down to Eamden's level and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you willing to learn all I have to teach?"

The young elf nodded without a second thought.

Then we are close.

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Eamden followed Aneren to a tall waterfall. The very size of it was daunting to the young elf. Aneren, on the other hand didn't think twice as he waded through the clear water, and then passsed through the waterfall like he would a curtain.

Eamden stood nervously on the shore for a few moments before finally deciding to follow him. The young elf took a few hesitant steps into the freezing water, before completely submerging himself. He slipped under the raging waterfall as quickly as he could, and found himself sitting in a large cave. Eamden's acute, yellow eyes, pierced the pitch black darkness like an arrow. It was simple to pick out Aneren's ruddy colored skin from the damp gray rocks surrounding them. Acknowledging Eamden's presence the old elf beckoned him to follow, as he made his way down the only noticeable route in the cave.

Eamden quickly picked himself up, and followed behind him. The mysterious cave only adding to his confusion. He walked quietly through each twist and turn of the cave, believing that there was no end in sight, until Aneren stopped suddenly in front of him. Eamden looked in front of him to see that the cave was blocked off by a large door, carved into the stone. The door was streaked with thick roots, and elegant markings could be seen underneath. A small hole in the center remained untouched by the plants or the patterns on the door. Eamden looked up questioningly to Aneren, who responded by pulling out a small key from his pocket. He inserted it into the door, and twisted it in two full circles. The dormant slab of stone, suddenly sprung to life, and by some unseen force was torn away from the roots, and pulled off to one side of the doorway. Light spilled into the passageway, fending off the darkness. Aneren stepped aside, and urged Eamden in front of him.

The young elf walked through the door, and was amazed by the sight before him. He stepped into a circular room, with a roof that stretched all the way to the surface, letting the sun fill the room with light and warmth. The ground was covered in thick, green grass, while the walls were a web of roots, and vines, spotted with white flowers. At the far end were two decorated mounds of dirt. One looked old, and was covered with much vegetation, while the one beside it was fresh.

"What is this place?" Eamden asked, confused by the existence of this haven.

Aneren stepped into the light, and stood proudly. "This is your father's resting place, Eamden."

Eamden looked at Aneren in disbelief. "It can't be." He said, realizing what was buried under the old mound of dirt. "My father died before I even knew him!"

Aneren knelt down to Eamden's level, and put a hand on his shoulder. "That is not true, Eamden. You've known of your father, even when you could not see it."

"What are you talking about?!" Eamden said, frustrated by how much he apparently did not know. "You're not making any sense!"

"Eamden. Your father is Silmarith Moonbreeze…"

The last few words hit Eamden harder than he could imagine. They seemed almost unbelievable, like the very fact of it was not possible. Eamden's father was the great Alliance General.

"Let me explain." said Aneren, who knew that the elf deserved to know the truth. "I was not always a hermit, Eamden. I used to be one of the best hunters the Alliance had to offer. I had taken your father under my tutelage, when he was but a few years older than you, and trained him to be as adept as I would have been. His power was quickly recognized, and with my close advisement, we led great armies to defend our borders against the Horde."

Aneren motioned towards Silmarith's grave. "Your father fell deeply in love with your mother. Overtime she became pregnant with you, and your father was ready to settle down and raise a family, but he was called back into battle to fight for the Alliance once more. An army of Orcs and Trolls, led by a savage warrior named Cyshnak AxeFury, was raiding small Alliance towns, and needed to be stopped before he could do further damage. One last time your father wielded his bow into battle. We fought most of his forces, but your father knew that AxeFury would be back with greater numbers if he wasn't stopped now. We chased him across the Great Sea, and thought we had trapped him in the Barrens. But AxeFury was clever. He had attacked the towns as bait, to lure us away from our home, and into a trap. Our men were brave and well trained, but there were simply too many of them. Your father and Cyshnak, fought each other, but in the end your father was defeated. You were born the very next day."

Eamden shuddered at the thought of Orcs. His last encounter still burning the back of his mind. "Why didn't my mother tell me?"

"She was doing what she thought was best. She did not want you to grow up with vengeance in your heart. The knowledge of your father would have stayed hidden for much longer had it not been for her passing."

Eamden head hurt from the different thoughts that stormed in his head. Silmarith Moonbreeze, one of the greatest hunter's of his time, was his father. His blood ran in Eamden's veins as much as his desire to be a hunter ran through his mind. Aneren stood up and walked over to an old wooden chest, sitting off to one side.

"I..I want to be a hunter, like my father." Eamden said.

Aneren inspected him as if he'd never seen him in his life. "I was going to wait until you were much older, but because of the circumstances, I will begin your training early. I must warn you though. Do not take this lightly. The training you will face will be grueling, and life threatening."

Eamden hesitated for only a moment before he steeled himself, ferociously. "I am ready."

"Good." Aneren said. He then opened up the chest, and revealed the contents inside. There was armor weapons and money. All organized delicately inside the case. "Your training begins tonight."

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Eamden stood under the full moon. inside a circular arena scratched in the dirt. He held a wooden staff in his hand. On the other side of the makeshift arena was Aneren, holding another staff, but this one was longer, because of Aneren's larger size.

"Let us begin the lesson." Aneren said. "Although a hunter cannot hope to best an opponent such as a warrior or rouge in melee combat, it is still very important. A hunter can become adept at this, but remember that it should be your last resort when in a fight.

Eamden nodded his understanding.

"Good." Aneren said with brevity. "We'll begin with simple combination strikes." He demonstrated this to his apprentice, with balance and power. Each swing whistled faintly as the staff was whipped through the air. Eamden observed closely and began to mimic his movements.

"Very good, Eamden." Aneren commented. "Try it again, and keep your footing."

The young elf progressed quickly in only a few hours. Understanding each stance and swing shown to him. By the time the sun spilled over the far horizon, he was streaked with dirt and sweat, And every part of his body ached.

"Well done, Eamden. You may rest. Then I will begin to teach you the more vital skills of a hunter."

Relieved, Eamden could only nod, as he was too winded to speak. Handing the staff to his teacher, he slowly walked back to his mentor's camp. The only thought he could focus on was rest.

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Eamden found himself in his previous dream. A war-torn desert, scattered with the remains of two cataclysmic forces. Before he could take a breath, he felt a cold familiar sensation creep up his spine, as the dead warriors, once again curled their rotted, skeletal fingers around his legs and slowly began to pull him downward. Eamden fought his panic, and snatched up a rusted sword that was stabbed into the dry dirt. He slashed downward at one of the hands, and sliced clean through the bone and flesh. He continued to hack at his undead assailants, but to his horror, realized that each limb he cut through, more rose up to take it's place. Soon he was overwhelmed by the numbers, and was once again slowly being pulled down by the dead. Just as Eamden thought it was hopeless, he heard a loud howl, and it was followed by a set of jaws clamping tightly on his shirt collar. The unknown force furiously pulled him back into the light, as He sliced quickly at the few limbs still clutching his ankles. He lied back as a cooling sense of relief swept over him. The sunlight caused him to go blind for a few moments before an unseen force covered over the harsh light. He opened his eyes to see a wolf looking down at him. It's face and body was a patchwork of old scars that had long since healed, and a white coat of fur shone through the areas that were unscathed. Although the beast looked fierce, it gazed at him with friendly eyes. As Eamden got to his feet, he realized that the desert that had been littered with bodies and weapons only a few seconds ago was now completely empty, as if nothing the battle had never taken place. Only Eamden and his companion remained.

Eamden looked down at the old wolf, and his stare was met with a gentle gaze present only in the wisest of elders. The creature's golden eyes felt like it was staring into his very soul, Eamden felt uncomfortable by it, but didn't dare look away. At that very moment a voice materialized in his mind.

"Eamden…" A man's voice echoed through his mind in a whisper. "Wake up, my Son…"

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Eamden shot up out of his dream, breathing heavily and, his mind racing. "Silmarith?….Father?"

"Sleep well?" Aneren asked, perched a few feet away.

"Uh, yeah." Eamden said quickly trying to cover up his minor outburst. "How long did I sleep for?"

"Long enough." his elder concluded, as he handed Eamden a pair of cracked leather boots. "Follow me. Your archery training begins now."

"Ok, what do I shoot?" Asked, his interest growing in the traditional hunter weapon. Aneren smiled.

"I am pleased by your eagerness to learn, but it is traditional for an apprentice to craft his first bow, before he learns to use it. I'll help you collect the necessary materials, but we must be quick. The trail is a difficult one and teaming with wild animals at nightfall."

Eamden merely shrugged, unsurprised. He got to his feet, and jogged to catch up to Aneren, who had already begun to make his way through the surrounding foliage. As he fell in behind the master hunter, Eamden still thought about the man's voice, and wondered if he was just a creation of his imagination, or if it was something much more…

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Thanks for reading, you can review if you like. It helps me write faster :)