The ideal shot was through the head. That's what her grandmother always told her was the most humane way to kill prey. A secondary shot would be through the heart and lungs. It was a bit slower but still relatively fast.
It had been so long since she was able to use a bow. It felt like a decade but in her present reality, it must have been a day or two. Would she remember exactly what to do?
Irene raised her bow when she saw that she had a shot. She held her breath to hold as still as possible while lining the arrowhead up with her prey.
The grey rabbit moved and its head was hidden behind a rock.
Rabbits were known for moving around a lot so maybe– Thɪs chapter is updated by novel⁂fire.net
It moved as she predicted and she let out a gleeful cheer when she saw the rabbit pinned to the forest floor with an arrow through its head.
As Irene jumped up from her hiding spot amongst a short bush, her wavy red hair caught a few leaves but she wasn't bothered. However, her disturbance caused a few birds and more rabbits to leave the vicinity to avoid getting hunted by the rambunctious girl.
Her father had sent her to the forest and she wasn't going to disappoint the greatest knight in all of the land. He said he needed a rabbit and she wouldn't question it. Never was she able to run those errands by herself. Her mother was always there to block her.
There was a time she let her dictate her life but...
That day would be different.
Irene sprinted towards the rabbit and pulled off her brown leather gloves so they wouldn't be soaked with blood.
At the sight of the small animal dead in the dirt, she quickly pulled the arrow out and lifted the animal's body.
There was a prayer in the old language her grandmother taught her about taking from the land and nourishing oneself. Guilt was natural but there was no need for it because the creatures of the land were meant to support each other through life and death.
Except now she needed to hurry home because her father still hadn't let her clean a rabbit by herself and the meat would go bad if she didn't skin it for too long.
The girl wrapped the rabbit in a leather bag that she tied to her belt so the blood wouldn't seep through. She then started whistling and skipping towards the edge of the forest where she knew she would find the plains and, ultimately, her family home.
The day was drawing late and, if her mother was meant to use the rabbit for dinner, it was time for her to hurry.
The grin on her face wouldn't leave. The last time she was sent into the forest, she remembered bailing out quickly at the first hint of danger. All she heard was a twig snap, but she was in the business of self-preservation.
She would do it differently.
As far as she could tell, she had died because of her own uselessness. The second chance she was given wouldn't be squandered.
There were a few large oak trees with unbelievably thick trunks blocking her path forward and, as she rounded the path that would take her out of the forest and towards a small village on the outskirts, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight in front of her.
A headless body: something she never thought she would see in her entire life.
Much more than that, a grotesque goblin stood above the lifeless body. Its wiry hairs that covered the tops of each high point were wet with the blood spray. The dull tool it used to decapitate the person seemed impossible but goblins were strong despite their thin frame and short stature.
The clicking noise from the back of the goblin's throat was what made Irene come back to reality. She had just heard that noise when one of those mangy beasts had their sword embedded through her chest.
Never again, she reminded herself.
She took in more of her surroundings.
There wasn't one but a handful of bodies–possibly limbs and pieces from a few bodies spread across the forest floor. There was even a body of someone smaller than her.
Before the monster could turn around, Irene walked backward towards the tree that had hidden her path before. She found safety amongst its old roots that sheltered her. She was small, even smaller than all the other eleven year old children she recalled, and was using it to her advantage.
It was time to control what she was feeling. Her body was trembling. The very real possibility of being killed again by one of those things had presented itself.
She noticed she was panting and shut her mouth so the monsters wouldn't hear her. It was hard to remember if it was a wives' tale or fact that goblins had good ears.
It was a terrible day to be able to hear at all. First, a shuffling was heard from elsewhere in the forest. Then there was a scream and a sickening crack.
Irene's green eyes welled up with tears. She had heard many animals die, but those were people.
Trying with all of her might to pull herself together, she silently sniffled and lowered her reddish eyebrows.
The girl wished her father was there to save her, but then she remembered all the sacred sword fighting lessons he had given her in the past. Rather than hoping he would be the hero, she glanced down at the dagger sheathed and attached to the brown leather belt low-slung around her midsection.
Her father was the Wolf of the North. If he could do anything she could as well.
Last she saw, there were only a couple of goblins despite the carnage. That wouldn't be too much for her if she could just sneak up on one of them.
Wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve, she unsheathed the sword and ducked so she could see beyond the overhang she had hidden under. The coast was clear for the time being and she climbed her way out of the maze of roots that had been protecting her before.
However, two sets of eyes watched Irene from deeper into the forest.
As they saw the girl emerge from where she had hidden, they spared a glance at each other.
A large man with red hair matching the brave little girl ready to face goblins unsheathed a broadsword. A short older woman with pale red hair in a long braid silently slid an arrow from the sheath on her back. They glanced at one another.
"What in the gods' name is she doing, mother?" the man whispered.
"You are the wolf, and that is your cub," Kara whispered in delight. A proud smirk spread across her wrinkled lips. "Don't intervene, Arthur. You had to go through this test as well."
His protective brown eyes remained on his little girl.
He had been hoping she wasn't courageous but he had underestimated the girl he raised. No matter how much his dear wife tried to intervene, she took all of her grit and determination from him.
He knew he was in trouble from the moment she showed interest in swordfighting.
The little girl threw caution to the wind and sped towards a goblin while it faced away.