Closed starter for @veithimathr
thump-- thump-- thump--
–The reverberation in her chest, in her ears, in her head, blood unto veins and weighing her down into the dirt until it might swallow her whole. At times, perhaps a blessing instead of a curse, how the weariness eroded the marrow of her bones and let her yearn for a reprieve that loomed far, far away.
Fresh from the heat of her small hut and deep enough into the forest to forget people for a moment, Hilda finally stopped running-- limping, stumbling-- and let herself breathe. And amid the chirping of birds and skittering creatures, she may have settled, were it not for the snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves.
Wild eyes and wild wits, a careful stillness befell her, the landscape, the tension of an arrow kissing its rest and the bowstring in turn, gaze and aim synchronized, an unsuspecting doe a few yards away, drinking from a stream. Her prey had stopped coincidentally yards away from her, and while she questioned the elk’s own awareness of its surroundings while she stumbled through the foliage, it was better to not dwell. Soles of her feet moved slightly, as delicately as her limp would allow, into the ground. Three, two, steadysteadysteady--
The scream that filled the air didn’t belong to the doe, but to the young woman, cursing in an amalgamation of desperation and fury. Her quivering wrist had failed her, the arrow hardly coming close to its mark and startling prey away just the same. With heightened emotion arose a lessened grasp of control. Hilda’s arm and wrist quaked, useless, dropping the bow as spasming muscle betrayed her. She cursed, too loud for the silent forest, falling to her knees near the stream in a heap of self-pity and necessity for reprieve-- even a failed venture took much out of her.
“Fuck the gods,” a murmur, caught beneath her tongue, answering a thought only audible inside of her skull. After all, was it not godly reason that had her suffer so? Hilda thought as much.