Thanks for the reviews RDF-73, and BenderBot2579! They really helped me continue the story.
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It was cold this morning, something very rare in the forests of Ashenvale. A chilling fog rolled lazily across the forest floor, as Aneren watched his apprentice closely.
"Try again." He said. "Keep your elbow up."
Eamden, wearing archery training gloves, picked up another arrow, and lined it up in his newly crafted yew bow. He aimed carefully at a circle carved into an unusually large, dead tree that sat in front him. After a few moments he loosed the arrow, and watched it go wide and off into the woods. Eamden sighed. He'd lost count of how many times he missed.
"Again." Aneren said patiently. "You must Feel the bow, Eamden. Understand it's properties and limits."
The young elf fed yet another arrow into his bow, remembering what Aneren told him. The bow creaked slightly as he smoothly pulled back arrow. He held his breath, and then finally let go. Eamden first thought this arrow would be like the rest, but it flew true and buried itself deep into the tree with a powerful thud. It wasn't spot on, but definitely an improvement.
"See? Much better." Aneren commented. "Keep going."
Eamden nodded. The two night elves had been sleeping in the forest, for the past three days. Their time spent here had been uneventful, aside from the yew bow Eamden made. As the sun began to creep close into the horizon, Eamden's abilities had increased greatly. Each of his white feathered arrows were grouped closely in the target, and Aneren nodded with a smile.
"Very good!" Aneren praised. "You're a natural, just like your father."
Eamden's tired expression lit up, feeling reassured by his praise. "Thanks." He said through weary breathes.
"Now let's see if your ready to take the next step." He gently took the bow from Eamden and positioned a fresh arrow into it. He drew back the wooden arrow with expert technique, and surprised his apprentice, as a white magic, lively sprung from his finger tips, bounded across the arrow, and converged at the tip. After the last of the light wound itself around the arrow's head, Aneren loosed the bright object. With white sparks trailing behind it, the light-tipped arrow collided directly into the center of the target. The burning tip erupted in an explosion of, nearly blinding, white fire. Eamden was forced to shield his eyes from the glaring rays. As the light faded away, Eamden looked back to see the results. The arrow burned a large, charred hole straight through the dead tree's trunk, which was big enough for Eamden to fit inside.
"How did you do that?!" Eamden gasped, obviously never witnessing magic before. Aneren walked over and handed Eamden his bow back.
"Most beings in this world, including night elves, can learn to use magic. Powerful users, such as mages and druids, can easily conjure spells, and hurl them at their enemies. Hunters are different. Although we can call forth magic, we are not as adept at it. We imbue our arrows with magic and fire them at our opponents. What I showed you was a simple, but formidable Arcane spell. Would you like to learn it?"
"Yes!" Eamden said, enthused by this alien source of power. He placed a fresh arrow in and waited diligently for Aneren's instruction.
"Aim, Hold." Aneren told Eamden. "Magic does not obey, strength, stamina, or agility. But mind. A strong, and sharp intellect can conjure magic the easiest. Your mind is strong, Eamden, I know this. You have the capacity to summon, and command it."
Eamden's grip on the arrow faltered slightly. "How do I think, to conjure magic?"
"Don't just think. Believe. Know in every part of your being that there is a power in you that will spring forth the instant you call it. Believe, and it will work."
Eamden closed his eyes and forced his mind to focus, with all it's might, on releasing this hidden power. He tried for as long as he could hold the arrow back, but there was still a small sliver of doubt in the back of his mind. Doubt that such tremendous power lay bottled up in a creature as trivial as himself. He could no longer hold on, and loosed the un-altered arrow. It whistled through the hole Aneren created and off into the woods. Aneren was about to say something, but he was cut off mid-word by a furious rumble that rippled through the sky, followed by a heavy rain that showered on top of them. What had started as a quiet, calm day, suddenly transformed into loud, rainy darkness.
"Alright, Eamden. Pack up and head back to camp. I'll be along in a few moments, with dinner."
Eamden nodded and quickly packed up his bow and arrows, along with the few supplies they brought along. He quickly ran down the trail they had taken to the shooting range, and after a few minutes of running in the cold rain, Eamden returned to the makeshift camp, he and Aneren had set up. It was very basic, but it looked very welcoming with the rain barraging him.
"At least it's under a tree." He thought. "I'll be able to make a fire and dry off…."
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As Aneren approached the camp, two dead hares in hand, He noticed right off that Eamden had taken the liberty off starting a fire, and changing his clothes so as not to get sick. He dropped the hares next to the blazing fire, and took a seat close to the fire, trying to dry off his clothing. For what seemed like hours, the two night elves sat, absorbed by the bright, dancing flame whipping from side to side. Around them, the rain poured harder than ever.
"Don't hunters normally have beasts that follow them into battle?" Eamden asked, finally picking his head up to look at Aneren.
"Yes." Aneren replied. "The hunter's closest and most loyal friend is the creature he tames."
"What creature did you choose?" Eamden pried.
"A hunter doesn't choose his animal, but really the animal chooses the hunter." The wise elf said. "Do you understand what I mean?"
"I think so…." Eamden replied, indifferently. "How long will it be until I'm allowed to search for my creature?"
"Whenever you want." Aneren answered simply.
The old elf received a very confused look from his apprentice. "What do you mean?" Eamden said, unsure if he his elder correctly.
"Every hunter's apprentice, including your father, learned from a master, until they believed themselves to be ready for full training. To prove this they had to complete a rite of passage. They would go out into the wilderness, alone, and armed only with their weapons and their knowledge. When they returned they would have to produce a tamed beast to their teacher. This animal would become their life-long ally, and also serve as proof that they are resourceful, and skillful enough for more challenging techniques and powers. The first night elf hunters did it this way thousands of years ago, and so will the last."
"Do you think I'm ready?" asked the young apprentice.
"I cannot tell you, Eamden. If you wish to become a hunter then you must know when the odds are against you." Aneren said, straight-faced. "All I can say is that this is a very dangerous trial, and should not be taken lightly. It pains me to say this, but there is a large chance you might not come back alive."
Eamden visibly swallowed, but then steeled himself. "In a week. I want to take the rite of passage in a week."
Aneren nodded respectfully, knowing it was his choice, and his alone. "Alright. In a week then."
"A week." Eamden thought. "I'll be ready by then." He could feel a cold fear creep up his gut, as he remembered what Aneren told him, but quickly stifled it. He would not give in to his fear, not now, not in a week. Never again.
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Every day for the past week Eamden had adhered to a strict routine. Get up at sunrise, Eat,
Practice, Practice, Practice, until sunset. Eat, then sleep. The work was rigorous at times, but it had more than paid off. His tracking skills were much more refined, his close combat skills, although not his specialty, were coming along, and his marksmanship was "Excellent" by Aneren's opinion. "Strikingly similar to your father's style." He had commented. Eamden was still frustrated that he could not conjure the arcane shot Aneren showed him, but his teacher reassured him it was only a matter of time.
Eamden said his farewells to his teacher, and walked off east, into the woods, carrying only what he was allowed to bring. His bow and 20 arrows, an axe and a skinning knife Aneren gave him. It was early in the morning when he had left, but now the sun was beginning to set, and the larger, more dangerous creatures would emerge to search for food. He decided to prepare to himself to search for an animal, and if it called for it, defend himself from being something's next meal…
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Light footed, Eamden weaved in between the large trees, and through the patches of moonlight that shone through the thick forest canopy. He was following the freshly made tracks of a young nightsaber. Judging by the size of the tracks, it was no larger than a cub. After a few more minutes of closely trailing the prints, a purring sound came too his ears. He quickly found the source of the noise, and quietly closed in on it. His search brought him to his quarry, a small nightsaber, purring loudly, and curiously swatting at the moths lazily fluttering in the rays of moonlight. The cub had a nightsaber's black pelt, and white chest, along with white, and black stripes. Further proving the cub's infancy was the short length of it's fangs. Eamden would have thought it was cute, if he wasn't in the middle of the woods at night. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out a strip of meat from his pocket, and walked calmly out in front of the feline. It's relaxed, and playful posture, quickly froze, It's amber eyes wide in fear. Eamden held out the treat, and watched, relieved, as the young nightsaber cautiously approached him, drawn to the scent of the meat. Eamden felt the animal press it's muzzle into his gloved palm, and gently take the treat. While the creature ate, Eamden reached forward with his other hand to pet it's flank, but as his hand came within inches of it's body, a roar tore through the forest, followed by a large nightsaber bursting through the cover of the trees.
Eamden dove back, and narrowly missed being sliced in half by feline's razor-sharp claws. He quickly pulled out his bow and an arrow, and aimed it at the adult nightsaber, standing between him and the cub. Eamden attempted to conjure an arcane spell, but like the rest of his attempts, he fell short. The arrow was deadly enough, and he felt the urge to kill the nightsaber he assumed was the parent, but he wouldn't knowingly rob the cub of his mother, or father, Just like the orc did to him.
After a few tense moments, the nightsaber rounded on it's cub, and picked it up by the scruff of it's neck. And in a flash it disappeared back into the darkness, leaving Eamden, bow in hand, alone in the moonlight.
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Eamden walked back to his camp, in defeat. The blood was still pumping in his ears from his near fatal encounter with the nightsaber. He would have to wait until tomorrow night before he could go out searching again. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an ear piercing howl. It was not one of anger or calling, but of pain. He re-inserted the arrow into his bow and stalked up the hill and towards this new source, for it might be a second chance to make up for his failure. The source of the cry was a female ghostpaw wolf who now lay dead at the hands of three satyr. Eamden had never seen one in person, but only in stories of their cruelty and corruption. They had humanoid features, aside from their cloven hoofed feet, long tails, wicked horns, and thick, matted, red fur. They each stood at least 7 feet tall, and were incredibly strong looking. They spoke to each other in a language that he didn't understand, but it sounded ugly, and guttural, like something was slowly chipping away his sanity. He was about to sneak off in the other direction, for there was nothing more he could do, but something small and white caught his eye as he turned his head. Like déjà vu, the parent was found protecting it's young, but sadly in this case the parent died trying to keep it's newborn safe. In the grasp of one of the satyr was a small wolf pup. The scared creature's whimpering could be heard all the way to where Eamden was hiding. While the other two satyr began to feast on the dead wolf's flesh, the third strolled closer to the elf, unaware that he was hiding in the brush. He held the small pup up, as if to get a better look at it, and then said something in it's coarse language to the others, which was met by harsh laughter. The satyr then moved to bring the wolf pup to it's gaping, fanged mouth.
In that split second Eamden knew it was now or never. He shot up from his crouched position, arrow pulled back. A burning light shot forth into the arrow tip, and he loosed it all in one motion. His target never had a chance, as the magic imbued arrow sliced into the satyr's neck, burning it's flesh. The creature screeched in white hot pain, before falling back, dead. In a flash Eamden ran out of cover, scooped the pup up, and retreated into the woods. He could already hear the threat's and curses of the other two satyr as they gave chase. Eamden felt the small creature struggling to free itself from his grasp, but he held on to it tight. After gaining enough distance the young elf Jumped away to the side, and hid under a rocky outcropping. He breathed heavily as he heard the two pursuers passed above him. After a few tense moments he revealed himself from hiding. Remembering the small, biting figure in his arms, Eamden held the pup up to get a better look at it. It's fur was a glowing white, and it's eyes were yellow, and piercing. And, finally it wasn't an it, it was a he, for obvious reasons. Finishing his inspection, he tucked the now passive form under his arm, and continued his trek back to camp.
"Time to get some sleep." Eamden concluded. "I'll travel back home in the morning, when it's safe."
As he walked across forest floor and then at his new companion he couldn't help, but smile. If his father could see him now, he knew he would be proud. His path was set in front of him and all he had to do was follow it.
His thoughts came back to reality as the pup's stomach whined loudly. Eamden reached into his pocket and fed one of his treats to his little friend, who snapped up the food in his jaws in less than a second.
"I'm Eamden.." The young hunter smiled. "What's your name?"
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I need a teensy bit of R&R. Reviews are welcome, and they'll help me write faster. If you have suggestions you're more than welcome to email me.