The youth loaded the arrow to his longbow, his slender fingers resting on the butt of the missile. He stared down the shaft as he drew it back, focused on the point beyond the steel head and closed his eyes.

“For you, kanj, I do this.”

The moss where he knelt dampened the cloth on his knees. He drew in a deep breath and looked to his target.

But it was gone.

The youth swiveled his head, his sharp ears pricked for movement in the silence. His longbow dropped to the ground as he choked, prying at the hand wrapped around his throat. The hunter rose behind him, knife drawn, hunted turned hunter.

“Time to die, little elf,” he said.

The youth gasped for air. He dropped to his knees and sucked in a long breath as the hunter toppled sideways, a red-feathered arrow in his side.

“Kanj,” the youth gasped. His father dropped from a low tree branch and picked up his son’s fallen arrow.

The youth shuddered and turned, unlacing his tunic to shrug it down. His father raised the arrow and added another long scar to his son’s back.

One for each failed hunt.

Translations From Jaya Avendel’s Elvish To English:

Kanj: Father


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