This is in, ‘Beneath a Weathered Sky’ the full short tale.
A small piece of just practice writing to fill in some time.
Running, running through the darkness, is that thing still following? Run the thoughts so fast through my head. No! Stumbling face first into the ground. The impact with a fallen tree, a spinning world soon finds me looking up so difficult, the hunting tip of an arrow pressed hard against my forehead. I can feel the blood trickling down my face as it mingles with streaming sweat from a chase that has stretched on for miles.
“Boy, what do you think you are doing in this wood?”
My vision somewhat blurry, stinging with salt from the blood and sweat, all I can make out is long dark hair, the voice, the voice just a slur in my pounding head.
“Did you not hear me boy? Who are you and what are you doing in this wood?
Collapsing into the sodden earth, I pass out as the dull echo of the voice fades in my subdued mind. Then in what seems like only a moment, I’m drowning, the sensation of being thrust below the water. Suddenly the realisation hits, there’s no water, I open my eyes. There’s three goats licking the blood and sweat from my face, and a dark haired girl, half eaten carrot in hand, with a longbow slung over her shoulder and quiver at her side. She is sitting on a tree stump, all but fifteen feet away, and is laughing almost uncontrollably as I struggle to free myself from the tree that I’ve been tied too.
“Careful boy, the more you struggle, the chances are one of our good ole Irish goats there, will mistake your head for one of theirs’ and crack that skull of yours a good one.”