_{𝒮 e n a n W 𝒾 l d e}

^{⤜ 𝒮 h e r w o o d - F o r e 𝓈 t ↠}

It was nearing noon, to the best of the prospective Ranger's knowledge. He had expected to have come across someone else by now and was surprised, although a little relieved, he had not.

There was a beauty to these forests, Senan thought. Were it not for their purpose, he imagined quite liking to spend time here. Aged trees with creaking branches stretched away from the crispy grass, ferns and underbrush. He found himself stopped by a moss-veiled fallen tree huddled next to a dense thicket.

He perched himself on the fallen tree, taking a momentary respite. Letting out a deep sigh, his breath misted as he uttered a curse. Only now that he had stopped moving did Senan realize it had turned cold from a mere mildness earlier that same day. Feeling peckish he rummaged through his satchel for some bread, one of the few commodities afforded to those on trial. Raising the stale loaf to his lips he prepared to take a bite and satiate his rumbling stomach. However, before he got the chance there was a swoosh, followed by a loud thud. It was the unmistakable sound of an arrow in flight and missing the intended target by mere inches. The shock of the unexpected attack caused Senan to fall backwards off his makeshift seat. His back hit the underbrush behind him hard and his face lay close to the thickets. Legs sprawled upwards like a cat experiencing a sudden paralysis.

Only a few moments later there was a second thud. This time the arrow had lodged itself between Senan's legs, stuck into the fallen tree. He was grateful for whatever was throwing his assailant's aim off, perhaps nerves like his own. Scurrying to his feet, he rushed towards the direction of the archer, drawing his sword, shakily, from its scabbard. "Fight!" He roared, surprising himself and appealing to the hidden prospect. To Senan's astonishment, his attacker emerged from a line of trees, a wall of impenetrable shadow. He was now staring down his first opponent of the trial. While he could not comprehend what possessed this man to step forward and shirk the safety of his position, Senan could only imagine he was capable with a sword and wanted blood.



Senan clenched his teeth tightly together, gripping the sword with one hand, palms clammy with sweat. His other hand opened and closed with nervous energy, preparing to grasp the lower end of the hilt. The two combatants circled each other, preparing their mental fortitude for the imminent fight.

"What's your name?" Senan asked.

"Peter."

Examining his opponent, Senan felt a trickle of sweat slide down his forehead. The various aromas of the forest and earth beneath his feet more apparent now, the spider spinning its web in the grass between his feet. His mind was racing with a thousand thoughts and emotions, but most of all he couldn't look away from Peter's cold, distant eyes. They were the deep green of fresh basil and reminded him of his sister. There wasn't much more to be made out about him, except for his tall, lanky build. He wore much the same garb, as to be expected, except his face was covered up to the cheekbones by some dark fabric.

Within moments there was the echoing clang of steel-on-steel as Senan found himself parrying a flurry of blows. Both were moving, neither wanting to be rooted to the ground in this struggle for life itself. Senan lunged for his now enemy's chest, missing as he stood aside. The force of transferring his body weight causing him to almost lose his balance and stumble forward a few steps. He managed to compose himself to block a return strike from Peter's blade, but only just in the nick of time. They found themselves clinching, swords locked together but Peter followed through pushing Senan back and landing a heavy kick to the chest. Senan was taken aback, breathless and knocked to the floor he clambered to get to his feet.

It was evident this fight was to be furious. Senan had always felt more confident with a bow in his hand than a sword. He had imagined, before the trials began, that he'd be the one picking unsuspecting targets from a safe distance; not that he'd be thrown into close combat so early. It was foolish of him, even if he knew full well that this was a likely scenario from the offset. By now he was sweating profusely and still struggling to gain back his breath after the kick that had thrown him on his arse.

Deep breath. Senan told himself, feeling the familiar churning in his gut subside. His grip once again tightening as he took the hilt of his sword with both hands and took stance.

"Come, then," Peter snarled. "It's a long walk to Galloway." he added, mockingly.

With a heavy grunt, Peter swung once more this time from overhead. Sidestepping, Senan narrowly bypassed the strike, catching the blade with the middle of his own sword, causing Peter's blade to slide to the ground. Senan took the opportunity to counter with a downward strike cutting deeply into the shoulder of his adversary.

Peter yelped and winced, taking a few paces backwards to compose himself. It was evident now that his injured arm would be no good for the duration of the clash. Senan had won himself an advantage and knew now that he had to use it, quickly. Wiping sweat from his eyes, it was now his turn to go on the offensive, slashing and stabbing at his opponent who was barely managing to block them. A rising slice, followed by a crooked strike across Peter's sword hand finally disarmed him. Kicking the blade away left him now at Senan's mercy.

The air was cold and crisp, a gust rustled above in the canopy of the forest. Aside from this, there was a silence that seemed almost deafening. Both combatant's breathing was heavy and laboured. His hands and wrists throbbed from the violent vibrations of their swords hitting off each other. All previous concerns seemed to just slip away even while the adrenaline still coursed through him.

"Well... what will you do with me then?" Peter asked, panting, clutching his injured shoulder with the opposite hand. Senan stared back blankly, the point of his sword keeping a wary guard over the downed man.



"Get out of here, leave your weapons and just go." Senan spoke to a surprised face. He lowered his blade, the aching arm now beginning to relax.

"T-thank-you." Came a hurried response as Peter got up, leaving any and all weapons as instructed, and hobbled away. Disappearing into the trees, not wanting to test his superior's patience or word.

Senan in trying to sit on the forest floor, collapsed onto the ground. He cupped his hands, twiddling his thumbs. In truth, he knew that Peter was most likely going to be killed by some other prospect in these woods or succumb to his wounds. He hadn't the heart to finish someone who only wanted the same thing as him. It just seemed so pointless, perhaps Peter would have even made a better Ranger than him under different circumstances. Although, there wasn't much chance of that now.

A beam of sunlight warmed his dirtied face, he looked up with squinted eyes and smiled. A hushed laugh escaped his lips. The worst of this ordeal was over, he was sure of it.

_{J e 𝓈 p e r A l 𝓈 t r o h m}

^{⤜ 𝒮 h e r w o o d - F o r e 𝓈 t ↠}

A twist in the grass.

Jesper tensed.

A sudden whistle of a hiss.



Mother earth rumbled at the onslaught, and Jesper shrugged further into the defending shadows of her hunched position. She felt that although correct in assuming her position was not the strongest, the low angle had not been a give away. It was right in the tree tops where she captured a perfect opening. The branches unfolded their leaves, and a man, crouched atop the muscular, twisting bark. Someone forgot to close his line. As the words scurried through her mind, her clothed palm carefully shifted around the hilt of her sword, and scabby fingers caressed the pummel. The leather grooves and metal works were soft against her cold fingers, sweaty with fear and excitement.

This was exhilarating. She could feel her heart beating heavily in her chest. It sounded louder to her than her own breaths. Yet, the midday wind, in all its vainglory, was still and as silent as the archer waiting anxiously in the tree above her. She held her breath, eyeing him carefully. No, not the sword, her hand slid into her leather pouch, pulling two darts. Their sharp tips pressed close to her veins. A dart had the ability to knock him from the branch and cause fatal casualty upon his landing. Such was decided.



Now was not the time to get lost in memories. With the sun hovering over the hanging branches of the trees, the shadows were slowly moving their bodies to different positions. Jesper's very own would be revealed soon if action was not taken. A plethora of reasons as to how she could be sniped were at her fingertips; and the least likely if anything, was that the scent of her own would be made clear now that the midday's breeze was beginning to reawaken. But alas, the archer in the tree; his body was tense and ready to strike at the next creature who dared make any shimmer in the forest — the animals had been scared away by the shouting of men earlier. Death was haunting the forest floor, and all but the humans seemed to be honoring this fact.

A glint shot through the air. It was nearly invisible to the naked eye. The aftermath was nothing of the sort, as the handsome face came collapsing to the ground, flopping in a overtly ugly manner onto the muddied ground. His neck limbs twisted under his sturdy frame, holding a head slowly leaking blood from his temple. The complacent look of a dead man's shock was sewn over his face. If he felt any pain, it had been slight. He had died before falling from the large, winding tree. He was her third kill of the day, but merely just another mark upon on the memory: