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The Village

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10/29/2012 12:16:16   
TJByrum
Member

The Village


The Hunter

My name is Aaron, Aaron Windsor. This is the story of how I rose from a simple being to a hero revered across the land. I was born to a mother and father of which I do not know, as my father abandoned my mother after he first laid with her. My mother on the other hand abandoned me on the doorstep of my current home, the Windsor home when I was just a baby. The Windsor's were good people and they took me in, raised me, fed me and gave me a place to live. Jonathan Windsor, my adoptive father, was a bowhunter and he hunted the western forests. He taught me how to hunt, how to track an animal and then kill it. We sold our meats and pelts to the people in town, particularly the innkeepers. Susan Windsor, my adoptive mother, was a normal housewife. She stayed home, fixed me and Mr. Windsor food, cleaned our house and often spent time with the other women. Unfortunately, Mrs. Windsor passed away to sickness about a year ago, and Mr. Windsor finally decided it was best he 'retire' from hunting. I'd hunt in the early morning, bring back meats and pelts, and Mr. Windsor would sell them to the locals in the comfort of his home. It was a simple life, and one that I could enjoy I guess, and I was thankful for it.

The wind was cold on this morning, but it was expected. It was nearing the end of fall, so it was already cold, and winter was right around the corner and the leaves had already began to fall. Dead leaves on the ground meant it was harder track my prey considering every step was a crunch crunch crunch. At the moment I was in a tree, on a branch about ten feet off the ground overlooking a valley in front of me. My brown coat and trousers were enough camouflage in this particular season and I already had deer urine on me to cover up the scent. This valley was a typical spot for deer to come through, a river ran straight through it and some vegetation grew around it.

In an effort to warm myself, I put my glove over my mouth and breathed onto it, warming it when my breath. It felt good at first, but it always got cold a few seconds later. I cursed at myself for having to do this while Mr. Windsor was in the comfort of his shop, probably with a warm fire, no doubt burning all the firewood I cut the week prior. But then I saw movement! All my attention, all my focus now frantically searching for the sight of a deer. There he was, big, strong, and looking for a drink of water. I watched the buck exit the woods and walk across the valley to the river, a few does trailing behind him. He was to far away at the moment, but the deer trail circled around and back to the woods, right where I was at, and surely the buck would continue his daily routine. He dipped his head down to drink some water, a few doe following in suit.

When he turned to follow the deer trail headed towards my location, I got a sight at his rack. He was a good-sized buck, one of the biggest I had seen in recent years. I had been tracking this buck for over a year now, waiting for him to get bigger while picking off his other cousins. Mr. Windsor had killed a buck years ago that was pretty large, but this particular one would put it to shame. I already had an arrow notched on my bow, something I always did in anticipation to kill the prey. The buck began to trot his way along the trail, closer and closer to me. I pulled my arrow back, aiming at the buck, evaluating my chances of hitting it. Finally he passed right underneath me and I released the string, sending the arrow flying true and piercing the wind in front of it. It struck the buck in the shoulder, wondering him, but he ran off in the opposite direction and scattering the doe.

I dropped my bow on the ground beneath me then stepped off the branch I was on, still holding onto it with my two hands and letting go when I knew the fall was safe. I picked up my bow and strung another arrow, chasing the buck back towards the river. He had already dropped, still squirming around in an effort to escape his predator. When I made it to him I threw my bow and arrow down and pulled out my knife, slitting his throat so that he may die quickly and not suffer. He was indeed big, bigger than any buck I'd seen around here. Unfortunately, the buck had fallen on his right shoulder, ruining my arrow, but I was sure the profits turned from such a big buck.

I jogged my way over to the tree I was in before to retrieve the stretcher I brought along. It was made out of two long pieces of wood on either side, held together by leather straps. I normally put my kills on it and hauled it back to town behind me. The buck was heavy but I managed to roll him onto the stretcher and I was on my merry way.
DF AQW  Post #: 1
10/29/2012 15:12:39   
TJByrum
Member

The Villagers

I finally made it out of the woods and onto the large open valley where my home was. The valley was surrounded by forests to the west, which I hunted in, a mountain range to the north, a swampland to the east, and another forest to the south. The Village itself was positioned in the middle of the valley, where a river ran right through the middle. It wasn't always called 'the Village', but its original name was never used and fell out of existence, so travelers and others simply called it the Village and the name stuck. Originally it was settled when a family built a mill along the forest and began cutting down the trees and such. They built houses around the mill and soon it started looking like an actual town. People stopped by often so the the family constructed an inn and began serving food and renting rooms to the travelers. Soon more people moved to the land to cultivate the rich soil, and farms began to sprout up around the little village. Eventually the sawmill evolved into a fully functioning town and became what it is today. The original forest that the sawmill was built for was gone now and it seemed as if a forest never existed in its place.

My house was on the western edge of town, connected to another building - Mr. Windsor's shop, and like all buildings in the town, it was made of nicely cut wood from the sawmill. I hauled my trophy buck all the to the back door of the shop. The door was large so we could fit things through there. I pulled in my buck and closed the doors behind me. The air inside was warm and the smell of roasted meat filled the air. It was dimly lit in the backroom, but I could see the fireplace illuminating the main room through the door. "Mr. Windsor... I'm back, and I got a big one!" I said with enthusiasm.

"Aaron? Aaron is that you boy?" The old man came through the door, a grin on his face appeared when he saw my large buck. His face was wrinkled with experience, but he was only about forty five or so. He was slim, bald, and cheerful, and he had always been that way. "My, my, my! That's a nice one you got there Aaron!" He started to examine the buck, amazed at such a kill. "Is this the one you've been tracking Aaron? Must've been hard to take down eh?"

"Not really sir. A shot to the shoulder, a slice to the neck, and he was done for. He was hard to pull back home though I'll tell you that much." Mr. Windsor made a gesture to help hang the deer up. "Can't wait to clean it" I mentioned, but Mr. Windsor grinned and laughed. "What's so funny?"

"You ain't cleanin' it kid, I am." I showed a disappointed expression on my face, but Mr. Windsor didn't seem to mind. It was my kill, my choice. "Ease up kid, let me do some of the work 'sides sittin' 'round here all the time. I ain't got much firewood left, so 'bout you go get us some more?"

I was still disappointed, but grateful that Mr. Windsor wanted to share equal work. I knew he had used him all my wood, and I knew I'd probably have to get us some more. "I'll be on my way sir." I nodded to him and he nodded to me and I left the backroom. The main room was a lot warmer and well-lit by the fire. It contained a wooden counter, wooden floor and insulated walls. Some other counters were around the shop but they had various items on them, although Mr. Windsor sold mostly meat from his backroom. There were two large windows in front of the store and I could see the town was quite busy. I walked outside the door and heard the bustling of the town, noisier than usual.

Jace Strison ran the sawmill on the south end of town, he was the man I needed to see about some firewood. Jace was a descendant of the Strison family, the original townsmen who built all of this; it was his heritage that we were here in the first place. I maneuvered and pushed my way through the dirty streets, still a bit muddy from the rainy stormy yesterday. I walked by the blacksmith, who made the townsmen various tools like hammers, saws, shovels, rakes, and more. There were tailors too, who made us clothes, and other shops to buy food from, as well as general stores and such. It was a nice and functional settlement, and I liked it here.

"Aaron. Aaron! Over here, come here!" Looking around, I saw Father Gregory waving his hands atop the church steps. Father Gregory was the head of the church, established here to bring us the good word. He was a good man, well-respected and preferred amongst the populace. I made my way to him and up onto the steps. "Aaron, my boy! How are you?" Gregory had a tonsure hairstyle, happy expression, and brown monk robes, but he was old and frail and it showed. "I trust the hunt went well considering you're back so early?"

"Yes sir, yes it did. A nice large buck I've been tracking for a year now, you should have seen it, Sarah would be impressed." Sarah was a local girl who I had a crush on, but she knew I liked her. I was teasing Gregory, who didn't really like Sarah and her family for 'religious reasons' or something. Sarah lived near the sawmill, and I saw her frequently when I volunteered to help or bought wood. She was a joyful and pretty young thing, slim, with pretty blue eyes and straight flowing black hair.

Gregory's expression changed to a serious one and said "Do not give into the temptations of flesh Aaron, it can ruin a good man such as yourself." I smiled at him, knowing he was just keeping me away from the people he disliked. "Well, we're getting visitors today, so I must tend to the church Aaron, see you later friend."

"Visitors? From where?" I asked, but the Father had walked away and into the church. It wasn't often we got visitors in the winter, so whoever was coming must be important. I shook my head and headed to the sawmill. It was being used to cut a large log, and it was powered by the river than ran through the town. Jace was overseeing the work and writing in a book, probably keeping track of his stock. "Jace!" I yelled, "Jace, how's it going?"

Jace was a large, lumbering man, a bit dirty. He had a big bushy beard and long brown hair, and he was easily the tallest person in the settlement. His voice boomed "Aaron! Early rise today eh?"
DF AQW  Post #: 2
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