Prologue
The elf Finnian sighted a stag along the tip of his arrow. So tense was he that sweat beaded upon his brow. The stag raised his noble head; Finnian loosed the fatal arrow. The arrow sped towards its target like a maddened hornet. The arrow struck the stag deep in his side, yet in an instant the stag bounded off through the woods. Finnian leapt out of the bramble he had been hiding in, chased after it and soon overtook the wounded creature. With a surge of energy Finnian leapt upon the stag’s back, took hold of the stag’s tree like antlers, and yanked them to the side, toppling both stag and rider. The stag twisted and flipped landing heavily on its side. Rolling over twice, recovering out of the fall, in one swift, almost fluid motion Finnian retrieved his bow and nocked an arrow to the bowstring. Time seemed to freeze as Finnian gazed at his fallen opponent’s deep, dark unmoving eye. As the animal’s life bled away, it stared directly at the young elf as if to whisper the thought, “I acknowledge and accept my fate. So take my flesh and use it well, oh skilled hunter.” |
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Aug. 22, 2006 If I could Go any where in the world...
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