Arinya Neleth glowered at the towering trees around her, as if it was their fault she was lost.
No, I am not lost, she thought, running her thumb along the fletching of her arrow. I’m only briefly separated from my clan.
She tightened her grip on her bow, scanning the trees for any movement. There was none.
Arinya was a Varnarinthian warrior, and an expert archer. Her aim was nearly impeccable, and she had been given a high ranking place in the ranks of archers because of this.
If she had been stronger, like the male warriors in her battalion, she likely would have carried a sword instead of a bow. But such a weapon was naturally too heavy for someone of her size and strength, and she’d been trained to be better with the bow than she could ever be with a sword. She carried a bow that rested in a sling on the back of her knapsack when it wasn’t in use, a quiver of arrows, and a pair of daggers sheathed at her hips.
Arinya tried to push down her frustration and nervousness as she squinted up at the leafy canopy, trying to decipher which direction she was facing. She wasn’t nervous because she was unprepared to be on her own. In any normal forest, she could easily survive months by herself, with the few things she had. But Sheveleth forest…
That was a different thing entirely. The trees in Sheveleth forest were huge, brooding, and hundreds of years old. Their spreading canopies blocked out most of the sunlight from the forest floor, letting some underbrush and vegetation grow but certainly not any young saplings.
Sheveleth forest had few animals. The ecosystem had long ago collapsed, and the forest was inhabited mainly by deer and wolves. It had a strange, brooding, terrifying feel to it, that was enough to drive some warriors insane. The forest wasn’t a place anyone wanted to visit, let alone get lost in. It was too dangerous for that.
Getting lost in Sheveleth was a death sentence.
A loud cracking of undergrowth, as of something crashing through the sparse vegetation, startled Arinya. She stiffened and turned to face the noise, her arrow nocked and ready.
The noise stopped. For a moment, Arinya hesitated. Whatever it was had held still, and she could hear only ragged panting.
Slowly and silently, Arinya crept towards where the noise was coming from. Behind a large tree at least four feet in diameter, stood a boy, with the telltale blond hair and blue eyes of his clan.
A Senkerissian warrior.
Her sworn enemy.
The warrior had bent down to grab a fallen limb, but straightened up quickly when he saw Arinya. He held it like he might brandish a club, although his grip was loose due to his fear. He was completely weaponless other than that, as far as Arinya could tell.
The Senkerissian was tall, at least five inches taller than Arinya, although he looked younger than her seventeen years. Fifteen, maybe. He was narrow-shouldered, wiry, and thin; hardly the build of a true warrior.
His only true physical advantage aside from his height seemed to be his long legs. His arms looked hardly strong enough to swing a sword with much power. The left arm was bandaged, just below the shoulder; a reminder of the battle they’d just been in.
Crusted blood marked shallow scratches on his cheek, and his face was streaked with dirt and–tears?
The Senkerris are so pathetic. Arinya thought with contempt. She drew her arrow back and aimed it at her enemy’s chest. “Give me a few good reasons not to kill you,” she snapped. “I have no hesitations.”
The boy’s face instantly fell. “There’s no point in wasting an arrow on me. I’m unarmed. I’m not going to attack you. Even if you spare me… the forest will finish me off anyways.”
