This day gives me pause to think about my journey and its course. I wonder, did I enter into this blindly? My encounter with my new friend surely is telling. Would I not have stumbled across his path, what would have become of me? Would I lie now near death in the mountains, my stalker victorious? I feel the weight of my pack upon my shoulders and though the day is still young, its straps dig in. Is it the pack I feel or is it the burden I have now placed upon myself through my ignorance?
The sun breaks through the low clouds and its warmth bathes me, soothing my soul. I pass a fleeting glance at the peaks that tower above me. They have been my guideposts in this journey, this walk I have taken. The corridors they have formed has been my map. I have taken their guidance but what shall guide me upon the open plains? My belly suddenly shouts and I realize I have been wandering aimlessly in my thoughts. It is time for lunch.
My shoulders relax as my pack sits quietly beside my small fire, its weight no longer a pull on my thoughts. As I clean up from my meal, my savior beckons. Its sleekness calls to me and I may not resist. I raise it slowly and feel its heft, its smooth shape somehow comforting within my hands. It is a queer weapon by design, its shape unknown to me. A sideways bow upon a rod, a channel within to lock an arrow. I look about the campsite; who shall see me test my skills? Only the birds of the forest realm. I laugh an my awkwardness, my shyness.
I have no instruction in weaponry and am sure in my mind I will somehow shoot my foot. My only instruction was to watch Authurn handle my savior in my presence as he showed me not how to use it. The arrow locked in place and the bow pulled fully back I hesitate at the possibility of its launch. A target, I need a target, an object which shall test my metal. I train the rod upon its victim and loose the missile down its shaft, the whoosh unmistakable in the stillness of the fold.
I shudder at my clumsiness. My skills in the wild shall surely be my undoing.