Act One Chapter One
In a different time, there was a
forest that was as deep as it was plentiful. Inside those woods, a house
stood that was built from the same kind of trees that surrounded it. Around
that cabin, the horizon was covered in all directions by the dense limbs of
outstretched timber and leafy thicket. Although the canopy was lush and green,
the sun and the stars could still pierce its ceiling. The boy’s first memories were
of the light of sunrise beaming through the window to draw him from sleep.
That boy, Novas, possessed
deep green eyes as verdant as the wild around him. His windswept, chestnut hair
fell down his head and face to his firm jawline. For as long as he could
recall, Novas was always dressed in clothing coloured in the browns of earth
and the greens of trees.
In his youth, Novas rose
with the sun to walk with his father among the shaded paths. Like his father
and his father’s father before him, Novas was shown the ways of the wild and
the ways of man. He was taught that the land was just as alive as he was. Novas
was entranced by the dawn and the early morning birdsong that brought forth the
unfolding of leaves and the waking scenery of forest life both floral and
animal. He learned the names of the lively birds above him and the swift beasts
below him. The boy became acquainted with the multitude of greens and the
creeping tangles of the forest floor. He tasted fruits and berries and picked
herbs and roots that could be used for nourishment or remedy. Novas learned to
swim in the series of waterways made up of brooks, streams, and small rivers
that were carved across the land.
His father encouraged the
exploration of his quiet home, but the man warned him, “Take care to stay
within the borders of the wood. The peace that exists between the trees and
leaves does not extend past where they end.”
Although the boy accepted
his father’s words, Novas searched the forest in vain; he was unable to
recognize that harmony without ever knowing its opposite.
When Novas grew older and
stronger, his father, Garreth, introduced him to the bow. He had seen his
father explore the woods with the large, curved object before, and the boy
examined its parts. However, he had no idea of its purpose. With his bow drawn,
Garreth knelt down beside his son and asked him to watch with careful
attention. Novas looked up at his father whose shoulder-length, light brown
hair moved like wavering branches in the wind. Novas shared his father’s linear
jawline, but Garreth had shallower cheeks and a more chiseled chin.
Garreth’s gray eyes were fixed on the target and steady as an approaching
storm.
The bow creaked with
tension as Garreth drew the arrow back, prompting Novas to examine the bow.
Novas watched the curvature of its frame, the way that the arrow fit into the
scheme, and the position of his father’s hands. While Novas was focused on his
inspection, the bow snapped free, and the arrow had vanished. Before Novas
could turn his head, the arrow quivered in the center of the target and then
was at rest. Novas’ eyes widened as he had realized how this tool was used. In
his curious manner, Novas thought it peculiar that the bow allowed him to stick
pieces of wood into targets. He wondered what the point was.
Like sprinting, climbing,
or swimming, the practice of archery was an interesting novelty and a new
routine for Novas. Garreth could only chuckle as the bowstrings bit at his
son’s fingers or snapped asunder due to the boy’s inexperience. Garreth lifted
the bow from the dirt and carried it to the cabin to be restrung while Novas
fetched the scattered arrows. When Novas had the bow returned to him, he found
it bent in accordance with his strength, and his arrows finally found their
mark at last. Later that day, when the beginner target had splintered
into pieces due to his son’s improving aim, Garreth pointed out the marks he
used to maintain his own skill. With the inclusion of those farther and higher
targets, Novas practiced with a sense of challenge and reward. When he was
satisfied that his son could use his bow well enough, Garreth decided to
include him in the hunt.
While he had always had
meat to fill his stomach and furs to keep out the winter cold on his bed, Novas
was unaware of where these items had come from. His father had spared him from
the truth as long as he could, for Novas was still known to laugh as he
sprinted down paths in chase of rabbits or foxes. One day, Garreth handed Novas
the boy’s bow and a handful of arrows and asked his son to follow him down the
shaded paths again. As they continued along, Garreth strode down the path while
Novas savoured the warm breeze of the summer day. They emerged through a break
in the trees to an open meadow that revealed a stream and a field of thick
grasses. On the far end of the opening, the brown, white, and red feathers of
the boisterous turkey shot up over the field. Like he had practiced sneaking up
on the woodland creatures before, Novas followed his father towards the gaggle
without making a sound. When they were in clearer sight of the group of seven
turkeys, Garreth took up his bow and readied an arrow. Novas glanced at his
father and then towards the turkeys. Again, the arrow was gone before he could
blink, and its presence was replaced by the rustling of bodies in the grasses
and a screech the boy had heard before but had never seen.
Novas had an ominous
feeling inside his stomach as he followed his father towards the place of
struggle. Novas looked at the turkey that was now still on the forest floor and
the arrow which protruded from it. The absence of its sound, movement, or
essence made him fearful. He became perturbed by the blood, ruby red in the
sunlight, that began to pour from the turkey, reminding Novas of his own
injuries. A deep horror rumbled through Novas as he imagined the life that once
was and the nothingness that now pervaded; an existence void of heat, of pitch
blackness, and deeper than eternal sleep.
“This is the way of the
wild. This is the way of man, Novas. This is how we survive,” Garreth explained
as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.
Something grew hard inside
of Novas’ chest, and he thought he would never look at the woods the same way
again. He looked up at his father with red, empty eyes.
“Many beasts of the wood
make the same exchange as we do. Some die so others may live. The forest
provides for us in ways we cannot. Our home is not only beauty but also
bounty,” Garreth informed his son, who stood nodding his head.
Garreth picked up the
turkey by its talons and carried it back to the cabin with his son in tow.
While the bird made for a filling meal that night, Novas would neither eat nor
live the same way again.
Спасибо за чтение!
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