Grey grinned in that way he didn't when he wasn't working. Dave's question apparently raising his spirits.

"So while I didn't become a dentist. I technically became a doctor." Grey considered in a way that suggested even he didn't know how that really worked out. "But originally, per my previous story, yes, I trained to be an assassin."

"To kill the man whose... Skull is sitting on the bookshelf."

"I mean, somebody comes to your patch of middle earth, kills your parents, burns your village, and enslaves the few survivors." Grey casually admitted. "A bit cliche. But you'd probably be a little raw about it too."

Dave agrees with a simple balling of his fists. It was a cue that Grey himself had came to notice over the years. Perhaps it was a nervous tic? A way to keep the monster at bay when emotions are high?

"I'm sorry you had to live like that."

"Don't be." Grey assured. "I got my revenge. And my current therapist gets to put his kids through college."

"-Is the therapist an elf too?"

"No. But what he doesn't know won't kill him."

Grey had a rather wry sense of humor. Being around so long would do that to anybody. Technology may press things forward, but a lot of things barely change if at all. He continued drinking coffee absently as he went over some folders he'd brought along.

"So how did it start? The assassin thing?"

"Well, after I did the whole grieving-process thing. It turns out there are a lot of people who want a lot of other people to disappear."

"Heh." Dave paused. Now it was his turn to smile in a similar sense. He had his own habits in that regard. Maybe the fist balling wasn't restraint, but anticipation?

"Unlike you, I couldn't just lay waste to a small army by myself. So I fell in with any coven, brotherhood, or bandits willing to take me in."

He went over to the counter and pressed the button on the air pot and let the cup refill. "I learned whatever they could teach me. Sure my family were potent magic users. But you can only learn so much on short notice."

It was rather simple. Elves had better tendency and experience at blending in. At least in more humanity dense areas of the old world. He always figured himself to be a bit unusual. An elf willing to tackle the outside world. But without the excess narcissism that seemed to come with that background.

"Really quick, and I don't mean any offense." Dave asked. "What's the deal with elves and wanting to rule the entire world."

Grey sat back and ignored his story for a moment. "I think it's the living for thousands of years part? You can't be a shut-in and not go crazy. You spend 2000 years teaching yourself spells, you haven't seen the sun in half that. You'll go crazy. Get delusions of grandeur."

It was funny how catch all his statement proved to be. Many of the other elves Dave had been introduced too carried this feeling of royalty. That there was so much superiority on general principal. Amal turned one to stone at the last function. That changed the dynamic a lot more than expected.

"I have a friend who still is getting past that. He didn't leave his house between The Sack of Rome and the Industrial Revolution."

"How is he now?"

"I mailed him a smartphone for his birthday, told him they landed on the moon." Grey remembered. "He's taking it kind of hard."

"So, your hitman years."

He went over the finer details of being careless at first. He took any deal that came his way. It didn't matter that he hadn't left his adolescence. If anything, he believed it gave him an advantage. Everyone expects some arduous warrior to show up to claim their lives. Most still don't expect a teen who can't drive; let alone ride horseback.

"I wasn't successful entirely." Grey explained. "Some escaped. Some just beat me half to death."

And some asked if he wanted better work. Of course nothing is ever that easy. And so many of Grey's years were spent training in ways he himself wasn't even prepared for.

"And that's when I learned you should never insult a sun troll's mother. My jaw still clicks to this day."

"They hit really hard." Dave confirmed.

"Everybody keeps making fun of living under a bridge, until they have to fight someone that lives under a bridge."

Eventually between all the pitfalls and bonuses of his lifestyle, he eventually had a realization. Not a fresh one. Just one he learned long before everything else. It was more peaceful to prolong life instead of taking it.

"That's... actually a very nice sentiment." Dave respected. "After what happened earlier."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm fairly certain all my previous contract targets were assholes to begin with."

Grey however switched things up at this point.

"Enough about me. You fought one of the Sons of Hikan to a draw" He mused. "How does that work?"

Dave shrunk up a little bit in his jacket, not that it made him seem any smaller. "So I used to have... Anger issues. You know?"

r/Jamaican_Dynamite

Loved the story! And oh goodness i live what you did about the naming! Everyone thinks bad people get coal, but actually they get cole.

Oh wow so much potential to run with!! Love it!!!

Hope in the follow-up you imagined, it ends happily...

Thanks for the story, I loved it

Oooo I like that.

Thanks for the prompt! It is very short, but I enjoyed writing this little response.

I plodded past the crop rows, watering them generously but tenderly. Cindy, that reminded me of an old aunt. Yes, what a caring woman she had been, always so nice to me. This Cindy I’d met on the phone, she would be just like her, I decided.

I wonder if she might let me in for a cup of tea now, bring me out some biscuits and offer a conversation. Ask about school, about what I do for money now. I imagine she’d be too polite to let me leave, she would just let me stay as long and as long as I wanted. And all her biscuits and tea would taste so delicious, just like my aunty used to make them.

This field was all done now, and I had already finished in the greenhouse. I’d cleaned the windows and the solar panels, washed all the clothes and dishes. I had planted that new tree, and I had checked up on my ants back in the garden. Another colony was moving in, and I had to stop them killing each other. Hmph, nothing to do. I had yet to go on another walk around the fence, to check all the bird feed was still stocked up, I’d go do that now.

Now what was the name of the other one I called. Yes, Bob. He spoke like an old school friend of mine, before he would start to drink. I imagine Bob had a fiancé but wasn’t quite ready for kids yet. He was still working too many hours, and he needed to get to a position at his firm where he could fit his work around his home life. But once that happened, which he was working towards, he would plan the most beautiful wedding with his fiancé, and they would have such wonderful children. They would run around the green just by the old council houses and chase each other through the trees. And Bob would join in, even though it did in his ankle. They would win, and he would chuckle, ‘Well you ought to try running with old Arthur Itis on you!’ And then he would concede that they were much faster than him.

All the containers were full, none of the birds had come out since early morning. With nothing to do, I didn’t quite feel like reading or having a try with the TV again. So back to the phone, to see if anyone else was out there, and if not to make another story out of their lives.

Click. Click. Click. Bzzzt… I clicked in another number from the phone book. This time I tried the phone book from that modern house horribly out of place in the village by the prairie. … Ring! Ring! Bzzzt ‘Hello, you’ve reached Hope and Jake North,’
Wait, what? Hope and Jake North? That couldn’t be. What were the chances? Oh god I could t do this again, I’d already forgiven myself for them, and given them the burial they deserved. Maybe I should go and visit their graves, leave them some flowers or something.

I hadn’t been paying attention, but just now I realised. The message hadn’t ended, but it was silent. My call was still outgoing, but I hadn’t gotten the beep yet. Someone was there, on the other end.

I picked up the phone. ‘Hello! Oh my God hello!’ I could hear their breathing. After they had my voice though, they gasped. ‘John?’

I was ecstatic, there was someone else! Someone had survived, and they knew who I was, this was so-

They knew who I was. They were answering for Hope and Jake. They knew who I was! And suddenly I knew who he was too. It was poor little Adam. And he was not happy to hear me, as was I him.

‘Adam… I- I’m so sorry. How are you alive? Where are you?’

‘No. You son of a bitch. Don’t think I’ll just forgive you. I’ve never forgotten what you did, I’ll kill you for it you bastard. I can’t believe you’re still alive, for god’s sake. Of all the people who died, you’re the one who deserved to die the most. Why the hell are you still alive? Why the hell did you do all this?’

I sighed. He’d been too young, of course, to understand what I did. Apparently he still was. ‘I had to do it. I am really sorry, I tell you. I never meant for all of this to happen. But what does it matter now, now that everyone else is dead? There’s no one to remember any of it. I’ve moved on, you have to too.’

‘No. Never. I won’t move on until I know you’re long dead. Believe me, I will find you. I will kill you. There’s nothing you can do to save yourself, you sick monster.’

‘Fine. Dwell on it. But you won’t find me. No one can find me here.’

He started to laugh hatefully. ‘You’re still afraid to die. So old and with nothing, truly nothing left to live for, but you’re still every part as terrified to die as you were when you murdered my parents and the rest of them. Well, you’re close now. You’ll die soon enough.’

Oh Adam. ‘I’ll never die.’ I hung up.

“Please…”, a ragged voice pleaded out to a God she hoped existed, “whoever may be listening, protect our child…”

An elven woman named Fillius used the last of her strength to embrace her young child. The blood from her wound was beginning to slow as the last of her life force drained like the sands of an hourglass. Fillius struggled to keep her eyes open; the time between each blink became longer until they finally stopped opening at all.

The half-elf half-human child she held her in arms, Scraton, did not make a sound. Too young perhaps to completely understand why his parents were murdered by the clan his mother once belonged to, but certainly not too young to understand the concept of death of a loved one. The slightest pang of curiosity sparked in my chest, but I smothered the feeling.

Scraton stood up in that awkward way that young mortals do before they gain any sort of dexterity or awareness of their limbs. He stared down at his mother. No tears. Not so much as a sniffle. He looked back towards the way they had come from. The silence, one of the few friends I had, loomed over us.

Scraton turned my way.

There was spirit behind those eyes.

Can this child see me?

I looked at him, but he looked at where my chest would be if he could see me.

The child turned his head away from me and walked. There did not seem to be any reason to this decision, this direction, but on Scraton trod.

With more glide then walk, I stepped over to Fillius.

“Was she one of yours?”, a figure adorned with jewels that did not sparkle or shine appeared beside me: Death. Light bent inward as if their very presence made it fall into them.

“Her and her betrothed were followers of mine, yes.”

With their fingers, Death tore open a hole through the empty space in front of us and pulled out a small leather bound book. Flicking through more pages than the book visibly would have had room for, they stopped.

“They were murdered by-”

“Hunted”, I attempted to correct with coldness in my voice.

“They were murdered. Just because they’re yours doesn’t mean they’re yours”

I glowered back at Death not saying a word. I received a sigh in response that seemed more theatrical than anything.

“Yes, well, I’ll tell you what. Since we’re just such great pals”, they pulled out a jet black stick the same way they pulled out the book and began to scratch something down, “I’ll take their souls and you can figure out what to do with their physical forms. Sound fair?”

I relented with a nod.

“Right. Now if you’ll allow me, I’ve no more time to waste. Mortals keep me rather busy”, the merry tone they had spoken that last sentence with was unsettling.

With a twirl of their fingers, a string of liquid silver and stars rose up from Fillius’ mouth and affixed itself as a pearl along a string that Death kept at their waist. Without any further words, Death removed themselves from the situation.

I felt the trees looming over me, waiting with bated breath about what I’d do next. With a flourish of my hands, I sculpted the land around Fillius, allowing her frame to be swallowed by the Earth and protected by roots. I sprang flowers where her blood had flowed freely unto my domain. Periwinkle - a favorite of her and her betrothed.

I was sure that soon, I was going to need to do the same for the boy.

I had found him quite easily, but even without powers of Godhood it would not have been hard with him tramping about. Twigs and sticks snapping, leaves crunching underfoot, stumbling over roots and rocks alike.

Scraton, whether he knew it or not, walked in circles. The forest was vast and his mother took him way off the path. Perhaps him being lost was a good thing. A last attempt at a mother’s mercy - allowing the forest to take him rather than be swallowed by steel and xenophobia.

Finally, the child tripped over a rather large stone, and let themselves fall. They made no attempt at catching themselves and instead just laid on their back staring up at the canopy of trees.

“Can… Can you help me?”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t, could he?

“Nar…? My mother said if I ever needed help I could ask you.”

I laughed at my own silly worry that this child could somehow perceive me but I was cut off.

“Don’t laugh at me”

Scraton sat up and looked straight at me with purpose.

“You can see me?”, I asked incredulously

“Of course I can", I wasn't sure if I liked the matter-of-fact way he said that, "Mom and Dad would always talk about you like they couldn’t, but I always thought they were fibbing…”, he trailed off for a moment and hunched forward, “...they weren’t fibbing were they?”

I could see fresh tears start to form at the corners of Scraton’s eyes. Ones that he was desperately trying to hold back. I felt a mixture of pity, interest, and dare I say caring take root in me. His parents were very devoted followers after all.

I crouched next to the child, “allow your tears to fall. Let them nourish both the earth around you and your soul. Cry as much as you need until the ache has dulled. Then, once the tears in your heart have run dry, we can begin to heal and grow”

Cry Scraton did. Deep, heaving sobs that bounced off of the woods. The deep, heaving sobs soon became a mournful cry. The mournful cry then became sniffles. Then the sniffles became hiccups until those too subsided.

“Done?”, I finally asked.

Scraton gave a slight nod. I reached out my hand.

“Good”, I gave as big of a smile as I could muster. It had been a while since I had reason to.

“Let us take leave of this place”, and with a swirling whisper of breezes that appeared from between the trees, we were swept away.

Nothing that seemed natural was natural as far as the carriage passing through the woods was concerned. The carriage did not have any windows, nor did it have a coachman, and the horses that drove the carriage were as black as obsidian. There was something unnatural about it. The carriage stopped near the stream, and out of it came four priest-like men, in black mantles, who held a mask so that they could not be seen. They were looking for something. Or someone. Later I asked the trees what they were saying. Of course I could talk to the trees, because I was the god of the forest. I prepared a spell, and decided to drive them out of the forest with such gusts of wind that their carriage almost overturned.

Later, in a mare by the lake I found a boy. he had blonde hair and was wearing nothing but some kind of cloth wrapped around him like a diaper. The boy was all terrified, and the chains were still hanging on his hands. When he saw me, the boy got scared, but I soon convinced him that I meant no harm. When I would walk the earth's paths, I had green boots and a green tunic, and a long strong brown beard.

• What's your name, boy?
• Growel, sir. Please don't hurt me.-

I laughed and decided to take Growel home, in a cabin near the lake. It wasnt much but it was comfy. I cooked some stew, and gave him to eat. While Growel was eating the food, I took the flute and played some soothing forest tones. From his stories I discovered that the hooded men were a sect of necromancers who kidnapped him from his family and decided to sacrifice him for their god of death. The god of death and I did not get along well.

Years passed, and I decided to take Growel under my wing. I taught him how to hunt, and I taught him to gather berries. I taught him how to communicate with animals and how to navigate the waters on a boat. In the end, he befriended the bear Lengan, with whom he would often explore the forest.

People would often pass by on the road, but I advised the boy that it was best to hide from them. People are greedy and easily corruptible bunch. I didn't like them, because their loggers would often destroy my forest.

But one day, people were passing by, according to their clothes, it seems to me that they are of a high class. I asked the wind what they were talking about, and the wind answered that they were looking for their son. The way they described him, it appears to have been Growel.

With a sad face I had to tell Growel what I saw. Through all these years I became like a father to a boy and it was sad to part with him. Growel didn't want to go to his parents, he persuaded me to stay, but in the end I barely got him to send him away.

But Growel has become more cunning over the years than I thought. He was lying under a tree by the side of the road so that his parents could find him more easily. When his father saw him, he ran to him. But in a moment he stepped on an invisible trap that wrapped around his leg, and he started to hang from the tree. The rest of his family, his mother and guards ran to help but were stopped by the bear Lengan.

• Son, it's me, don't you recognize me? Your father-

• I recognized you, father. But I can't let you go. - The mother answered: - Son, what are you saying, the years in the wilderness have clouded your mind - But at those words, the bear stood up on its hind legs and the mother and the other guards retreated.

• Father, I wish you wouldn't appear here anymore. Why? Well, because I know, the priests didn't kidnap me. You sold me to them. - Father, red in the face from being lifted upside down: - No, son, that's not true. Where did you get that from?

• From where? Well, I overheard your conversation. While you thought I was sleeping I was hiding in the kitchen and I saw the priests giving you gold coins. I heard my mother say you can take me -

The mother answered: - Son, you have to understand. We were heavily in debt. Our family business would go bankrupt. We had to do something in honor of our family. But now we regret it, and we want you to come with us -

• Do you regret it? Well, good. I repent with you. - Growel took a knife and cut the trap that held his father in the air. There was a thump soud when it fells to the ground. - Now get out of this forest so I never see you again. You are not my parents.
• But, son - the bear growled and the father and mother together with the guards fled into the carriage and headed towards the city.

From that day on, Growel gained the reputation of a ranger in these forests. His adventures with Lengan the bear will make him a forest legend. But that's for another story.

I chuckle.

“Yes, I’m here. I’m listening. But really…you think I’d create something as dangerous as you with no failsafe plan? You think so little of me.”

The lines filling the page with thinly veiled threats pauses.

“But I’m just a character to you. You don’t even think of me as real. Otherwise…what kind of person are you?! The things you’ve put me through…. Who could do things like that?!”

“Ah…now you’re getting it. You’re starting to understand. And you’re absolutely correct, what kind of person indeed? Now ask yourself, if I’ve known all along that you’re real, still tortured you thus, am I really the sort of person you want to threaten?”

There’s a longer pause this time.

“But why? Why? You took everything from me.”

I shrug my shoulders, realize I’m not sure if he can see me, “It made for a good story” and I laugh, really giving in to my sadistic side I’ve channeled into my stories, all so I wouldn’t indulge it in life.

I’m almost certain I detect a shudder from the blinking cursor on the screen.

“All right. Fine. You’re the one in control. But I can’t take this anymore. Write a new character. Let me die.”

“Hmm. No. You’re popular. You make me a good living. They’re even talking movie. Now…what if I give you a new love interest in the next book? One who doesn’t die? I can’t promise an idyllic life, but something to live for.”

The pause this time is thoughtful.

“Yes. I think that could work. Will she be pretty? Y’know, I don’t even care, but make her powerful. I’m done with weak mates. They die.”

I nod as I speak, “Then we have an accord. As you wish.”

“Agreed. I can’t say I look forward to it…but we’ll see. You’re safe for now.”

I get up from my desk, the cursor still blinking.

I always was. And…I said SHE wouldn’t die, I never promised she wouldn’t kill you. Chuckling internally, I walk away. Always such fun when they realize who’s really in control. Breaking them is rarely a challenge, I know all their weaknesses, after all, I created them. But fun? Oh, always!

Plz have a sequel

Cool story thanks for writing! I interpret your story as: The angel and the devil were just made up friends, who disappeared after the protagonist found someone.

thank you! :)

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There was only so much comfort a bed could provide when heaven and hell were in agreement over the actions of a mortal.

I spoke aloud to my empty room.

“You guys never agree, spill it. What do you know?”

I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them. I could feel their minds. Two entire beings fighting one another within my own body with no real control beyond suggestions.

They plagued me regularly, but this was the first time they agreed. There was no fight. No struggle.

For the first time, I felt peace between the mortal enemies within me.

The silence was too much.

The angel spoke first, it’s voice like a strong wind buffeting my ears.

She is kind. You are kind. The two of you will be happy together. You will grow as people.

“Okay.”

I didn’t have much more of a response than that. I reached out to touch the mind of the demon, seeking an answer to the same question.

The devil spoke then, it’s voice warming my face as if looking into a campfire.

She is kind. You are kind. The two of you will be happy together. You will grow as people.

I blinked at the identical answer. They fell silent then. I couldn’t feel their presence even as I tried. My quest for clarity found nothing.

I decided that maybe they just didn’t understand this enough to give an answer. They didn’t say yes or no, just gave me information I already knew.

So I fell asleep with a smile on my face, having finally made a choice that was mine and mine alone.

I think maybe I felt them smiling with me.

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That stupid Naughty List. One glance at it and his life had fallen apart. Sleep had become a fantasy. Singing was a chore.

Four Christmases passed before he realized what would bring him peace. Justice.

His brothers and sisters were overjoyed he had become his old self again. They thought he had gotten over the atrocities he'd seen on the list. The truth was that he had a purpose again. Cole thought back to that first nightmare after he saw the list. A shadowy figure approaching a young boy curled up sleep. The child's small hands hugging a doll that Cole himself had made.

Now those nightmares were dreams. They began the same as the nightmare, but now there was another shadowy figure. One emerging from the fireplace. A small matte green blade in his hand.

It took him twelve years to make that a reality. The boots were easy, Santa threw those away every year. The chimney dust was a problem. It took six years to get enough dust for the names on his list, and the list kept growing. The hard part was the reindeer. It took him years just to befriend them enough to find the one that would help him, Rudolph.

That one had a chip on his shoulder. Years of bullying, flying out just a couple times every ten years. He cared about the kids, but more than anything, he wanted freedom.

Then came the weapons. Santa would know if any of the elves made anything dangerous. Blades disguised as decorative parts, hilts as bicycle handles. He'd even managed to make enough parts for a small revolver, but not the bullets. That was no problem, the naughty list would tell him where to find them.

Christmas Eve came and went. Santa came home and they all gathered for dinner to celebrate another successful holiday. Cole ached to say goodbye. He wanted to tell them how much we would miss them. How he'd miss the way Bubbles would snort when she laughed. Jazzy's cookies. Cole snuck out before he started crying. He had to do this.

He walked through the snow to the valley where Rudolph was waiting. Their first stop would be to pick up the cover for his nose, masked as part of a baseball that Cole had made for a little girl in Arkansas. Cole ran the last few steps towards the valley, he could see a faint red glow from Rudolph's nose, and, no, it couldn't be. He had been so careful!

What was Santa doing here? He was supposed to be at dinner, giving his speech. Years, wasted.

"I know what you're doing". Cole gulped, he'd never heard Santa's voice so solemn. "It's a bad idea."

"I- I-" Cole's voice came out a squeak.

"It's disappointing". Cole began to shake. He wasn't afraid of the consequences, he just couldn't bear to stay home another night. Santa continued, "I thought you were smarter than this"

"Someone has to do something!" Cole found himself yelling, his voice had come back and stronger than it was stronger than it had ever been. "There are MONSTERS out there. I make toys for kids that cry themselves to sleep. Toys their parents steal and sell to buy drugs, parents that beat them and..."

"I know", Cole didn't know when Santa had started to hug him, but he was now crying into the big man's belly. "This isn't the way to do it" Santa was now kneeling, looking into his eyes. "You'll be through that list in a couple of months. And then what?"

"Then I-"

"Then, you'll come home and get another list". Cole tried to speak, but no words came out.

"You're not the first Cole my son. There aren't many of you, but enough. Go the South Pole. You'll find the others there."

wow, that's some good read right there!

Hahaha Ask Mark Watney how! He has this tutorial on growing potatoes in extreme environments, it's kinda long but very informative, it's called The Martian. XP

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Sjorgün leaned down next to the deer carcass, a knife in his hand. He uttered a quick prayer for the animal, not to any god-really, praying to a god while he himself was one felt quite silly-but to the universe itself, the infinite and indifferent void that would outlast all of them, even the gods, for the animal's safe travels to the after life, before then beginning the grisly business of skinning the animal.

It only took him a few minutes, barely 3 or 2. Even the largest and meanest bear he could find in these woods only took him 5 or so minutes to skin and process. He gingerly rolled the pelt to clean for later, before then taking out another knife to begin butchering the animal for further use. Before he could, however, his attention was snatched away by the sound of something being knocked over.

Sjorgün turned, knife in hand, displeased at the fact something had actually managed to sneak up on him-but was met with the sight of something small and pink and pathetic looking at the now spilled contents of one of the salt barrels he'd brought with him. The god sheathed his knife at grumbled at the spilled salt, before then walking over to the barrel.

The small, pink creature looked up to him-a human, he realized. The god almost shriveled his nose in disgust. He did not like humans. They had a habit of trampling over his lands, slaughtering it's inhabitants and then complaining when they found nothing of the land to sustain themselves. His sister, gentler Frøya, was obsessed with them-but he absolutely could not stand them.

The child gaped at him, the vague approximation for what passed as a smile for its people. He grunted and picked up the now empty barrel, before then moving to the deer and beginning the process of butchering it.

~

It was some time before Sjorgün was out hunting again. Meetings with the council, his insufferable brothers and sisters, took some time and almost always yielded nothing productive, but as lord of the wilds he was of course obligated to attend. He travelled now with his lieutenant, the wolf god Glornir as they set out after a boar.

Glornir bent down and sniffed the ground, before then turning back to his master, frowning. "Boar's that way, I'm sure, but there's.. something else. I'm not sure what it is."

Sjorgün raised an eyebrow. It was rare that Glornir didn't recognize a scent. He walked over to his lieutenant and kneeled down on the ground, finding plenty of evidence of boar activity, rustled leaves and twigs, but nothing else.. strange.

"Well, let's find out then." He said, shrugging his bow from his shoulder. Glornir nodded and padded after his master, slow and steady now as they crept closer to their prey. An ear piercing shriek sounded above them, and they abruptly stopped. The gutteral sound of boar, mixed with something else...a cry.

A human child's cry.

Shit.

The god broke into a run and Glornir followed him-though mumbling something about complete disregard for stealth or other, Sjorgün didn't really hear-and then they burst out of the woods, to be greeted with an absolutely huge boar towering offer a sniffling, cowering child.

"PROTECT THE CHILD!" Sjorgün bellowed, and though Glornir grumbled he followed suit, oath sword to his master, putting himself between the huge boar and the child, who only wailed louder at the wolf god's approach, growling at the boar, daring it to come closer. The boar was about to oblige him, before an arrow whistled through the air and lodged itself into the beast's shoulder. With a shriek of pain it turned toward's it's assailant, murder in it's eyes.

Sjorgün set his jaw and unsheathed his hunting knife. The boar bellowed and charged, and with his superhuman reflexes the god side stepped and sliced through the boar's throat. Arterial blood gushed as the huge beast collapsed, it's breath growing labored and shallow before finally giving out.

Glornir walked over to the god, ignoring the wails of the child behind him. "Reckless.." he stated, more a growl than a coherent word.

Sjorgün rolled his eyes. "It's also the biggest boar we caught this month."

"With the biggest tusks, and hooves, and desire to trample and gore you!"

"Relax, old man. It's not like its anything I can't walk off." He turned away-deciding that the conversation was over-and unsheathing his knife to skin the animal-but his eyes landed on the child, looking up at him with fear and wonder in his eyes in equal measure.

The god grit his teeth and tried to ignore it, but that irksome, foolish urge to protect grew in him, like a troublesome weed. He sighed and sheathed his knife, walking over to the child, who backed away from him fearfully. Something about those eyes, fearful and wondrous, seemed so familiar..then it hit him.

The same child of before.

He sighed and leaned down to pick up the child, who only wailed louder. He did his best to ignore it.

"What are you doing..." Glornir demanded as he walked over.

"Taking it back to the cave. It'll die If we leave it out here."

"And that's none of our concern!" Glornir growled again. "If we took every single baby animal that was about to get eaten or trampled back, we'd damn near take every baby animal in the forest!"

Sjorgün didn't have an answer to that. Instead, he looked the wolf god dead in the eye, and said. "My decision on this is final. You are welcome to help me or not, wolf god."

Glornir visibly deflated, knowing now the conversation was over. Glornir had much leeway with the younger god-as he'd practically raised him-but it was impossible to changed Sjorgün's mind once he was set on something. Sjorgün's face blackened with guilt at his reaction. "Look, Glornir, I'm sorry, just...you know how you found me and my sister, back when we were babies?? Out in the woods? If you'd left us then-"

"You would've died." Glornir finished. "I very nearly did, you know." He said, chuckling, before then shaking his head. "You were always a stubborn child, you know that? But fine, if you wish to do..whatever it is you want, with the child, I shall help you."

Sjorgün beamed and nodded at the wolf. "Race to the cave?"

"What, with that wailing thing on your back? Do you want to attract every predator from here to Iskidian?"

Sjorgün looked like someone had slapped him in the face. "Well, no.."

"I thought so. The predator does not run. Now let's go before that things blows our eardrums off." He said, gesturing to the baby, and they walked back to the cave.

~

And so they ran the forest, Sjorgün, god of the hunt, and his lieutenant, the wolf god, and along their side, the first of the human hunters. Not just one who exploited the woods like her peers, but one who took only what she needed. The first of the human hunters, who would go on to teach her peers the way of the woods.

And they called her Artemis.

Thanks for reading!

Thanks, glad you enjoyed!!