The trees rustled thickly all around, that one welcome cool breeze piercing the humidity of the summer. The greenery of the far southernlands of the country always heeded a powerfully hot season, and the forest did nothing to shade the inhabitants within against the pulsing sun in the pure blue sky.
Up in the leaves rested a young female elf. She was breathing hard and shakily, her dark hood tucked up and around her flushed, sweaty face. Her bangs were clinging to her wet forehead as she steadied herself on the thick branch. She brought up a wooden, plainly crafted, elven bow, her arms shaking as her left hand pulled back a feathered arrow.
"Pull," she huffed. She leveled it with a dark figure below her, walking through the path where the undergrowth had been worn away by decades and centuries of being trodden on. "Aim..." she breathed, "and release."
The arrow whizzed down, hitting the figure's ankle with a loud, dry sound. "Ah..!" hissed the man, sucking in a harsh breath. "FROST'SEA!" he yelled angrily, "GET DOWN HERE, NOW!"
"Oh..." she said, realizing where she had hit the elf. She clambered down onto the leaf-strewn golden sand, and straighten up to face him.
"Frost'sea," said the dark-skinned elf calmly. "Where did I say to hit me?"
"Your back, sir..."
"Yes! My back, which is armored, not my ankle!" he reached down, seizing the end of the arrow with his fingers, and tore the projectile from his flesh. It came out, a bit of blood spurting from the wound, and he tossed it on the ground. When Frost'sea made to grab it, he clicked his tongue. "Don't salvage that one," he said. "It's bent. In fact, it was already bent when you used it. That's why your aim was off!"
Frost'sea glanced down at the ground, the blood staining the leaves around the male elf's foot. "I'm sorry, Eden..." she whispered.
"Frost'sea, I told you to attack me, and you took three days to find an opening. You're a Nightingale Kinship member. You're never sorry, and when you find an opening, you take it sooner rather than later. If you want to be able to protect the king, then you need to be better with archery."
"I'm good at sword fighting..."
"But that's not useful, is it? We're to dispatch the enemy at a distance. If they get close enough for a sword to be run through them, they're close enough to run a sword through you! Understand?" Eden snapped.
Frost'sea nodded, ashamed of being told off by an elf only three years her senior.
"Here," he said gently. "Let me show you. Extend your arrow back." She did, and he began adjusting her hands. "Keep your thumb near your mouth, almost in your cheek. And bend your head a little, stand up straight, so you can see right through the sights on the bow." He watched as she obeyed the commands, and then commented, "Don't grip the bow very hard. It's a little unusual that you draw with your left hand, instead of your right, but whatever works, works."
She placed her feet almost a shoulder length apart, the leaves rustling under her short ankle boots. Her hood and cape shifted with the wind and as she moved her elbows up and down. Finally, her stance was correct.
"Your arms will get tired if you hold the arrow too long," advised Eden. "Let go of it, now."
Frost'sea whipped her fingers up, and the arrow shot into a nearby tree trunk. Shunk-! She grinned and turned to face Eden. "Thanks!" she said merrily. "I think I got it now."
"You do," Eden assured her.
The air around them shifted. The torturing hot wind suddenly became stale and cold: the humidity seemed to disappear. Eden glanced up momentarily, his pale hair swaying, and said crisply, "Let's get back to camp."
Frost'sea glanced up, and nodded. "Do you think they'll attack us?" she whispered, but Eden shrugged.
"Let's hope not."
The path back to camp was winding and rather confusing to an outsider, but the elves who called it home knew it like the backs of their hands. The path wound over rivers and rocks, but finally came to rest in a clearing where the grass was short and the sun was shining on the trees bordering the wide empty area. It was devoid of anything but the swaying grass, and a tall, golden-barred gate hidden partially in ivy. Several wide bushes obscured the remainder of the fence from view: the fence that encased the Nightingale Kinship's base.
As Eden and Frost'sea made their way to the clearing where the gate was, an elf burst out of it with a frightened face.
"Eden! Frost'sea!" she hissed at them. "Get inside, they're coming!"
"Don't worry, Liyan," Eden assured the woman. But he had a slightly worried air about him, and he led Frost'sea into the camp. It was large, with a few tents set up near the bordor, but otherwise all the structures were longhouses. He bid her goodbye, and Frost'sea dashed over to large longhouse, set up aganist the fence.
"Hope!" she called, entering the motel-like buliding.
A little boy peered out of the apartment door upstairs, and smiled widely. "MAMA!"
"I'm not your mama," said Frost'sea kindly to her kid cousin. "We have to get ready for the attack. The demons are going to attack us, so if we stay inside we'll be okay."
Hope blinked, and giggled as Frost'sea smiled at him. "Go on," she told him, and ducked into the room after him. He clambored up on his bed, adjacent to Frost'sea's, and she climbed up to her own and opened the window. "It's happening," she commented sadly.
The sky turned into a moving expanse of black. Screeches carried through the stale, stagnat air. There were thousands upon thousands of bat-like humanoids, swooping down into the camp below.
"ATTACK!" yelled a woman, and the demons turned to them, eyes alight with fire.
Just a draft! If you like it please comment!
