Young Writers Society

My eyes darted left and right, scanning for the source of the ominous susurration. The rest of my body was motionless, but coiled and tense: ready to strike. I had an arrow at half-nock - resting on the bow but not drawn - ready to send the shaft straight at the deer like one of Uller’s own. It too had detected the presence of another creature, its ears pricked, one leg raised mid-step.

It was a magnificent animal. Its fur was glossy, its flank rippling with tender meat. The bulky shoulder would come to well above my hip, and I am hardly the shortest youth on his trial. Little cones of steam sprang from its nostrils, the only indication that the world hadn’t simply frozen in time. The pine trees - lightly frosted with snow - towered like sinister sentinals, blocking out what weak winter sunlight broke through the heavy cloud cover. It could only have been my imagination, but they seemed to be leaning towards me, as if the trees knew I was here to kill and wanted to protect this innocent denizen of their realm. I mentally shook off my apprehension. I cannot fail. Even through the gloom I could pick out with ease the staring white of the deer’s eye.

“Wait until you can see the white of the eye, then strike quickly, but without haste,” Fionn had instructed. I had nodded as I finished my milk, which tradition dictated was all that acolytes were allowed until a kill was made. If I was succesful, I would be met with a fest of meat and mead, a symbol of my attainment of manhood. As I had set out to the woods, Fionn had caught my shoulder. “Bring back something that will make you seem worthy of your new status.”

My heart leapt as the deer snorted suddenly, snapping me back to the present. However, I showed no outward sign of jumpiness. It lowered its shapely leg and graceful head simultaneously, cropping delicately at the sparse vegetation that managed to grow under the oppressive shadow of these lifeless columns. I slowly released a breath I wasn’t aware I had been holding. The bowstring creaked as I drew the arrow back, but it was almost inaudible, even in the ominous silence that lay heavily over the forest like a thick blanket. I sighted down the length of the shaft, the viciously barbed head pointing unwaveringly at the animals muscled neck. It almost felt a shame to kill such a pure, graceful creature.

The eye disappeared without warning, the deer turning to chew contentedly on the hardy grasses on its right, facing away from me now. All doubt gone, I risked pulling the arrow back to my chin in a single, sharp movement, sucking a quick breath in through my teeth.

A monstrous squealing demon burst out of the thick undergrowth, barreling straight at me. I flipped the bow down and loosed the arrow on reflex, in a single explosive movement. In the same motion I hurled myself sideways, narrowly avoiding being gutted by the satanic horns that jutted from its heavy jaw as it charged past. The bow fell from my hand as I rolled on the frozen ground, the other wrenching the dagger at my side from its sheath. I came up in a crouch, hearing the distant crash of the deer as it fled but not registering it. My eyes were locked unwaveringly on the shadowy, hulking shape that had attacked me, my breathing regular and my heartbeat steady.

Silence.

I slowly stalked forward with careful, deliberate movements, still wary. The beast was lying still and quiet, a sharp contrast to the screeching thing from seconds ago.

I held my knife out at arm’s length, cautious in case it was merely playing dead. I carefully pricked it then jumped back, ready for a second charge. When it didn’t come, I circled to the front of the creature, where the evil darkness of its body was broken up by the startling white of its jutting tusks, like the moon in a starless sky. I pushed my blade into the back of the giant boars neck, severing the spine. With that done, I was out of danger. I slumped against the trunk of a pine, wondering if it had been sent it as a guardian for the deer. I had a vague image of the dazzlingly white puff of its tail disappearing into the forest and decided I was happy it had escaped.

It was only now that I saw my arrow. Fired from point-blank, it had pierced the boar’s right eye and, without mercy, embedded itself right to the fletching. I admired the size of the beast, as my arrow looked like a thorn compared to its bulk. The momentous significance of what had happened hit me suddenly, causing me to grin. Anyone with a little hunting skill could take down a deer, but it required talent and guts to kill something as dangerous as a boar. This was the perfect symbol of my worth. Not to mention the fact that there was a lot more meat on a boar than a deer.

I noticed my hands were shaking. I closed my eyes, trying to master the shuddering, which had now spread through my whole body. Deciding, after an unssuccesful moment, that it was a reaction to my near-death experience and not a sign of weakness, I stood, thinking that being active was the best way of dealing with it.

I wiped the blade of my dagger on the boars wiry hair, then retrieved my bow from where it had fallen. The arrow I removed with some difficulty, as the barbs that made it such an effective hunting weapon held onto the overgrown pig like a hungry dog with a bone.

As I headed off to retrieve my horse, I couldn’t help but compare the two animals I had encountered. The deer: pure and innocent. The boar: dark and aggresive. The contrast seemed a very apt way to sum up my transition to manhood.