From a Bird's Eye
Deep into the Forest, there lies a dead carcass of a bear. It doesn’t taint the nose yet to signify how fresh the kill is. The bear lay nearly peacefully over the fern and grass he fell over. A deep brown color was his coat and his teeth were razor sharp. Over its chest is a singular arrow. The arrow itself didn’t seem out of the ordinary—thin, wooden, and feathers for the fletching. Looking up, it seemed to be early in the morning, the sun had just made an appearance over the horizon. Even as the bear lay dead, it was oddly peaceful. The birds sang their usual tune and the bees continued their morning routine as usual.
On the other side of the landscape, though, was one intense and brilliant golden eye. The other seemed to be heavily fogged. A large scar that penetrated deeply into the other. It looked old and aged. The one who shot the bear without hesitation held a long bow with both of their hands. There was silence after the birds finished their tune. The morning air only filled with the elves' deep breaths. The sun’s harsh rays bled through the tree line and the leaves that didn’t connect. It hit directly on tanned skin. Almost as if they’ve never spent a day inside.
A few moments pass by. Slowly, a husked voice spoke out, “It in thi way es tayne.” It nearly sounded unreal. Husked and dirtied in of itself. A higher pitch than most to signify its young impression, but still sharp.
The long grass rustled as bare feet walked closer to the bear. A strong metal sound was made as the elf unsheathed the serrated knife. Bending over, N’vaestīl began separating the head from the body. Her look was determined to get this done. As the task took time, her lips were pursed together in a circular shape to create a small tune. Many consider it to be akin to a lullaby. As though she was singing it to the bear himself.
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