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Apollinaria Fowl
(last edited Oct 27, 2011 04:11AM)
(new)
Oct 26, 2011 05:10PM
If it's not your turn yet you can write up your chapter here.
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Jonathan sprinted through the forest, a bow and arrow set in his hands, his grip firm on the bow's curve. The arrow slipped neatly between his third and fourth fingers as he aimed the bow while running. The deer didn't stand a chance as it fell to the might of a single arrow piercing its heart. He knelt near it, and finished it quickly to end its pain.
He hung it up in the forest for later, and then left for his home. His house was a small rickety hut... the weird thing about it was that it was up in a tree. He leaped from branch to branch until he finally reached it. He left his bow and arrow near the doorway and then walked inside. It was a rather homely place with dust littering the furniture and dirt trails across the floor.
"Home sweet home," he muttered as he kicked off his boots. Jonathan was a peasant and couldn't afford the new thing they called a shoe. It was like a boot, but with a shorter top. It seemed silly. What if you had to walk through a river or creekbed?
He grabbed a cloth, wetted it in a bucket and wiped the grime off of his face. He replaced it and looked in a piece of glass nearby. His mother wouldn't approve of the quality of his cleanliness, but then again she wasn't alive. Neither was his father.
But his mind was wandering now. He shouldn't be thinking of these things. He grabbed his cleaning kit of knives that he had stolen from the city and walked back to the deer. A raven was pecking at a hoof.
Jonathan left it alone. The animals soothed him slightly, but they couldn't replace the pain he had in his heart.
He hung it up in the forest for later, and then left for his home. His house was a small rickety hut... the weird thing about it was that it was up in a tree. He leaped from branch to branch until he finally reached it. He left his bow and arrow near the doorway and then walked inside. It was a rather homely place with dust littering the furniture and dirt trails across the floor.
"Home sweet home," he muttered as he kicked off his boots. Jonathan was a peasant and couldn't afford the new thing they called a shoe. It was like a boot, but with a shorter top. It seemed silly. What if you had to walk through a river or creekbed?
He grabbed a cloth, wetted it in a bucket and wiped the grime off of his face. He replaced it and looked in a piece of glass nearby. His mother wouldn't approve of the quality of his cleanliness, but then again she wasn't alive. Neither was his father.
But his mind was wandering now. He shouldn't be thinking of these things. He grabbed his cleaning kit of knives that he had stolen from the city and walked back to the deer. A raven was pecking at a hoof.
Jonathan left it alone. The animals soothed him slightly, but they couldn't replace the pain he had in his heart.
((IF it matches the storyline at that point))


