Throne and Revenge

It was not my Victory

John

After Dad's motivational speech the previous evening, I never imagined that I would still be afraid when hunting. He had filled me with tales of bravery and purpose, speaking to me like a true warrior. 

Amelia had even weighed in, advising me to remember who I was and to have faith in myself. I felt ten feet tall when I went to sleep. I therefore took the lead like a true alpha in training  when we ventured into the woods that morning. I reassured my friends that there was nothing to fear. I sounded like a leader like Dad, shoulders back and chest out.

Then I noticed it, the warthog it was more muscular and menacing than any I had ever seen and stood between two towering trees like a demon on duty.  I told them to go, that I could manage on my own.  I had called it a "Piece of cake," and I think that was the dumbest thing I've ever done.  

Like a fool attempting to start a fire with his bare hands, I chased it at full speed.  The warthog kicked up dirt and leaves as it darted through the trees and it appeared frightened.  

However, I learned better, it was drawing me in not fleeing.  Away from my pack, farther and farther into the woods, it kept me away from people who might hear me yell.

People think animals don’t think, however that warthog was a strategic creature.  It was aware of its actions.  It was a trap and I walked right into it, like the brave fool I believed myself to be.  The further I traveled, the colder the air felt.  Suddenly like whispers through branches, I began to hear strange rustles.  

I swiftly turned to look for the source, but I couldn't find it.  Only trees and quietness, the kind that makes my stomach turn.  The warthog had stopped running by the time I turned around again.  It had ceased and It was looking directly at me.  It had glowing eyes that were as red as blood not just red.  

As if its skull had been filled with fire, It was unlike anything I had ever seen. I saw fury, hunger and murder in those eyes.

And in that instant, all of my courage was sapped.  I was immobile and unable to talk.  My fingers were shaking while my heart was pounding loudly in my chest, as if it were trying to escape before the rest of me was ripped apart.  I believed I was going to pass away.

"Run like lightning," that word flashed into my mind and I simply obeyed without thinking. I spun around, turning my legs, and then I noticed something even more terrifying.  An arrow was pointed directly in front of my eyes.

My throat tightened with breath and there was a boy obviously not from the village.  He was dressed in rough clothing as if he had been raised in the wild.  His irate, wild and dark eyes were fixed on me.  

He had the appearance of someone who had survived a wolf fight.  I realized then that he intended to murder me and I went cold.  He would shoot that arrow if he made a mistake.  He remained silent like a statue carved by anger, he simply stared, I was at a loss for what to do. I had no thoughts and then he moved, abruptly but not in my direction. He turned, shifted slightly, aimed, and fired.  

In a blur, the arrow flew by me and struck the warthog's skull with a thud.  The beast fell at once and I stared at the boy in disbelief.  

His eyes were cold as he glanced at me again; no grin and nothing to say.  Then, as if he had never been there, he turned and left, vanishing into the forest.  He kept me alive and didn't even give a damn.

I stared at the warthog's enormous body stretched out while trembling. I was aware that I hadn't killed it, but I was also aware that no one else had witnessed the incident. I stood over a dead beast in the woods by myself with a bow.  

The lie was ideal and I paused only for a second. I then approached, took out the stranger's arrow, and put mine in its place.  The crowd erupted by the time I brought the warthog's body back to the camp.  Cheers broke out and people began yelling my name and clapping.

With pride in his eyes, my father got to his feet.  The others were summoned back by the sound of the village horn.  The air was heavy with the smoke of celebration.  Without any delay, the women seasoned, skinned, and roasted the wild beast.  

Everyone came together, ate and applauded me. The priest even appeared tho he only made appearances twice a year. I was blessed by him and he declared me the "Little Alpha," the person who would take over my father after he had departed.  I received gifts from the elders, including a cloak woven with our clan's mark, bracelets and carvings.  They spoke in words I could hardly understand and touched my head.

And I was grinning in the midst of it all and will an heroic smile. I ought to have felt bad but however, I didn't. All I did was convinced myself that I would have found a way even if the crazy boy hadn't been present.  

It was obvious that nobody knew and what mattered was that I appeared courageous.  I appeared powerful and the populace accepted it.

My grandmother gave me a forehead kiss and my pals were amazed. Even Amelia smiled tightly at me, as if she knew something but chose not to express it.  I tried not to laugh when the priest declared that I was no longer a child. Come on, I mean I was still a child, I was still afraid and still working things out.

But for a brief instant, I felt like I was in charge of the world as I stood proudly in the middle of the village, holding a roasted warthog. I also dedicated everything to my sister because if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that without her, I could never have arrived here. 

The night continued with music, dancing and laughter. I couldn't help but think of the boy in the woods throughout it all. The one with the rage in his eyes and the bow.

My questions were who was he and why did he allow me to survive?