R
ReptileSkin
Guest
Original poster
Nightfall, usually an already uneasy time for most, but with the inner woods of a nearby village, night has become more of a nightmare. Men and women have been reported missing, bodies have been found mauled and half eaten, howls being sounded on the darkest of nights, and most recent, an entire family found torn apart on the very edge of the village of Bracksten. There very lives are in peril as whatever is lurking in the woods stays on the hunt. Ever since the beast causing these killings has showed, few go out after twilight. None have gone to hunt for game, fishermen have left there nets unchecked in fear of being taken from there boats. The fields are nothing but overgrown wildlife, littered with weeds and crops alike. It had been 2 months since they saw peace, and the people of the village were starting to lose hope once again, as night fell on a scenic full moon.
But she knew better. Her bow was knocked with an arrow, her green eyes locked on the deer resting nearby. Food was becoming scarce for reasons that this place would not say. Bracksten, they called it. An eager home for the desperate and wanting. Sadly, Argenta was neither.
She was already sixteen, and no man would dare try to claim her. She was too wild, to angsty, and too quick to give a swift kick to anyone who startled her. Her father had always compared her to a proud horse who would not be bridled. But as she pulled back for the killing strike, it became evermore clear to her that there was no man to please her. She would not be bridled.
She let the arrow fly, the bow bouncing back to its original form. There was a moan from the creatures laying in the moonlight below, a shuffle of feet and fleeing. Then, there was only a few short kicks before there was complete silence in the clearing once more. She was satisfied, and dropped down from the low branch of the tree to collect her prize.
But she knew better. Her bow was knocked with an arrow, her green eyes locked on the deer resting nearby. Food was becoming scarce for reasons that this place would not say. Bracksten, they called it. An eager home for the desperate and wanting. Sadly, Argenta was neither.
She was already sixteen, and no man would dare try to claim her. She was too wild, to angsty, and too quick to give a swift kick to anyone who startled her. Her father had always compared her to a proud horse who would not be bridled. But as she pulled back for the killing strike, it became evermore clear to her that there was no man to please her. She would not be bridled.
She let the arrow fly, the bow bouncing back to its original form. There was a moan from the creatures laying in the moonlight below, a shuffle of feet and fleeing. Then, there was only a few short kicks before there was complete silence in the clearing once more. She was satisfied, and dropped down from the low branch of the tree to collect her prize.