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Description
Joleb hit the ground, rolling into a crouch, dirt flying up behind him. Shouts were coming from the house behind him, lights flickering on like it was under attack, the shafts of luminosity piercing the black night.
Joleb grinned. Not an attack of course, he thought with pleasure just a robbery. He tightened his grip on the leather purse clutched in his hand, feeling the tightly stitched material. He shook it once, just to make sure the purse contained the contents he desired. Indeed, the clanking of gold and silverware echoed from the purse.
“Thief” yelled someone behind him. Joleb straitened up, not needing to look to know that there was a city guard, who was no doubt pointing a spear or sword at him. “Drop all of your weapons and surrender in the name of King Hetnier!” yelled the guard, trying to sound intimidating. Joleb shook his head. The guard had obviously rehearsed this. “Afraid not.” said Joleb, swinging the purse over his shoulder.
“I am armed, lawbreaker!”
Joleb didn't even need to see the guards face to know that it was most likely contorted in fury. Honestly, thought Joleb “lawbreaker?” I prefer the term law-avoider....or anarchist.
“Do you know who I am?” said Joleb quietly and turned finally turned around. The guard and big and muscular, with hands big enough to lift a horse. Any other detail that Joleb may have been able to decipher was blocked by heavy armor, that completely covered all of his opponents limbs.
When the guard saw Joleb face he backed up stunned. “Do you know...” said Joleb with a misleadingly calm tone, “WHO THE HELL I AM?” The guard stumbled back, and tripped on a jutting cobblestone, lading heavily.
He finally stuttered “R-R-Reaper.” Joleb slowly walked towards the fallen guard and as he did, pebbles and debris started to rise slowly around him, as if they were lifted by strings, but of course, they weren’t.
“Very good meat-shield,” he said with the same calm demeanor, “and do you know what happened to the other 20 guards that tried to kill me four sunrises ago?” The guard picked himself and his spear from the cobblestones, and sprinted away from Joleb. Or at least he tried. He hadn't made it twenty paces before his movements slowed, as if we was running through water. He continued to decrease speed, until finally, his arms and legs were making the proper movements to run, but he wasn't moving at all. Some invisible force had paralyzed him. He then was lifted from the ground, not unlike the pebbles that had rose when Joleb had first begun his approach, which were now swirling around Joleb in increasingly hasty rotations. The guard didn’t stop floating through the air until he was facing Joleb from a couple of feet away, hovering a similar distance above the ground.
“Do you know what happened to them?” said Joleb whispered, so softly that the guard could barely hear him. The guard did not speak, his face frozen in terror.
“Don't know?” said Joleb closing his eyes, “then I'll tell you.” When he opened his eyes, they were pitch black. No pupils or retainers. Just black as the depths of a well.
“They were never found again.”
The guard terrified, threw his spear at Joleb. It shaft pierced Joleb's chest and exited, tinged with crimson blood.
The guard was suddenly released from the invisible prison that held him in the air, and fell heavily onto the cobblestones. Joleb swayed on the spot, then keeled over and lay still. The guard clambered to his feet stunned, no doubt thinking if he had actually just killed the most deadly and famous thief in Aritime.
Wishful thinking thought Joleb. He straitened to a kneel. “What?” in pure confusion, “nobody could have survived that...” He voice raised to shout, “Nobody!”
The blood that covered the tip of the spear flew through the air and back into Joleb's chest, as well as the spattered blood that lay on the cobblestones. After a few seconds, the wound closed up, and the only evidence that the incident had occurred was a spear lying behind Joleb, free of any crimson end.
“Did I ever tell you why they call me Reaper?” said Joleb quietly, still holding his calm demeanor, “they call me Reaper, because no matter what you do, or how many times to cut me open, I won't stay down. I won't die. And I certainly make sure,” continued Joleb his voice steadily increasing in volume “to kill whoever was foolish enough to try!”
A knife materialized into Joleb's hand, and he lunged forward, and as quick as any realm of possibility and slit the guards throat. A flaw in the armor, he thought to cover almost every limb, but to leave your neck exposed.. He would make sure to send a complaint to the castle. It might make these tiresome fights a little more exiting.
The guard fell, life gone from him, onto the battered cobblestones.
Shouts came from behind Joleb. No doubt the rest of the cities guards would be here soon, to find yet another victim of “Reaper” and yet another house would be robbed of it's valuables.
Joleb took to a sprint, and he knew, that no matter how fast the guards ran, they would never catch him.

Henting awoke early the next day, and that was saying something. Usually a soldiers day began about an hour before sunrise, unless of course, you were on watch. He lay in the dark, knowing that he would not be able to return to the peace of sleep, listening to the wind and the grunts of the other men as they dreamed.
As he lay there, sore and frustrated, Henting happened to glance towards the front of the tent. The flaps were being blown open by the wind, revealing the landscape beyond. And just for a second, Henting could of swore that he a figure cross through the dark, low to the ground, as if crouching. And as the figure crossed a path of moonlight, Henting could make out some of the figures details. It was tall, for sure, and a robe bellowed behind the figure. Lean build and Pointed ears? thought Henting in amazement. Surely no elf would be stupid enough to walk into the very heart of a camp of humans?
The elf must have been very careful about it's about it's approach to be able to sneak past the multiple watches that stood on duty in the dark.
Henting slowly got to his feet, brushing off his blanket as quietly as he could. He peeked around the flap of the tent, and in the same movement, grabbed his sword that he kept beside his mat; ironically, for situations such as these. Henting decided then to not wake his fellow soldiers. I can easily depose of this elf myself, he reasoned with himself no need to wake the others. Besides if something does go wrong, I can just shout.
Henting crouch down as he left the shelter of the tent, not unlike the elf he was following. Stealth and patience were key here. He followed the elf through the dark getting closer, raising his sword higher and higher as he got closer and closer.
Then quite suddenly the elf veered to the left, down a small hill, and followed the shore of a march. Henting halted for a second of two, confused. He had assumed to the elf was an assassin, sent to kill General Ridge, whose tent had been in the direction the figure had been originally headed. But now the elf seemed to be heading out of the camp, and into the endless expanse of marches and wasteland, and in the approximate direction of Aritime, away from the Sunset Forest and the Red Line. Where is he going? wondered Henting. Suddenly he questioned himself on whether he should continue his pursuit of the elf. If it was passing through it wasn't doing much harm. But then again thought Henting I can't very well go to bed now that I know that there's an elf sneaking around. He shook his head, and followed the elf, not entirely sure of what to expect.

Aaron shivered. The first night of the road had been a cold and lonely one. When he had left Stept's cabin in the afternoon, he had wandered through the woods for about an hour before coming his destination, The Cobble Road. This road forked from Aritime to all over the west side of Equinnox, splitting at many places. No matter which fork you took, to road would run through a fair amount of towns before all the roads met at Luandale. It's nice thought Aaron to be able to take which ever path you wish and still end up at the same place... The Roads many paths indeed ran through almost every town and landmark between here and Luandale, but eventually they would all meet at the latter, making the western side of Equinnox a much easier land to navigate. Of course if you wished to travel to Balla Mor, the mountain kingdom of the dwarves, you had to stay on the left path at each juncture. But besides from that, all of The Cobble Roads paths lead to Laundale, besides from another that lead to The Sand. If you wished to go that way, though Aaron could not think of any reason on the spot of why you would, you simply had to take the right road at each juncture.
Many trader caravans and carriages passed through The Cobble Road, trading supplies between the big cities and the small towns. Most of these traders passed back and forth from Aritime and Balla Mor. The dwarves and humans and established a healthy alliance. Each race had much to give to the other. The humans craved the dwarves massive amount of precious stones and rare jewels, the humans supplied the dwarves with silk, leather and food, all which were quite difficult to come across in Balla Mor and the enormous mountains around it. Of course the dwarves had a healthy supplies of native beasts that lived in the mountains, but they were are meat and nothing else. The dwarves for instance, were now quite fond of fish and for some strange reason pie, which they now practically worshiped, since being introduced to them by the humans. It had to be noted however, that the time humans had gifted vegetables to the dwarves it had not gone well. Long story short, dwarves now refused to eat vegetables or any kind of green food, claiming it was like “poison in our mouths”.
Aaron had grown exited when the road came into view, for he knew that it would leave him strait to Luandale, with plenty of stops in villages along the way. His journey had really begun. He had traveled down the roads, occasionally dodging passing caravans and stopping to decide which path he should take, till the sun had gone down. Aaron had layed out his blankets and supplies about 50 feet away from the road, and curled up to sleep. He had hoped, of course, that he wouldn't have to do this often. With any luck, most of his nights would be spent in the inns of towns, curled up in a rented bed. This would happen, he was sure, but some nights like this one would have to be spent exposed to the elements.
As the sun rose, Aaron hoped that he would be sleeping in a warm bed tonight. It had been freezing out in the open, and he hoped he wouldn't have to sleep in the open for two nights strait.
After packing all his supplies in his bag, and slinging it over his shoulder, Aaron stepped back onto the path and resumed his journey. After about an hour, when Aaron came upon another juncture, he spotted two other travelers, both slightly ahead of him on the path. They were both human, that much was clear, and from what Aaron could tell from the back of their heads, both about the same age as he.
“Good afternoon.” Aaron called to them friendly, and when they turned, he could finally make out some proper details.
The first one was a boy(now that Aaron could see) slightly older then Aaron. He had a large build and long dark hair, that descended down his back like a flow of water. His face was slightly coated in dirt, as if he had been traveling for many days. His eyes were a bit squint, and were dark like his hair, but not in an intimidating way. They had warmth in them too.
His companion was a girl, also with long dark hair, and a face coated with grime. But it were her eyes that sent a shiver down Aaron's spine. Her eyes were the brightest shade of blue Aaron had ever seen, like ice. Also unlike her companion her face had many laugh lines compared to the boys stoic one. She was slender too, like an elf. Both of the travelers were wearing leather clothes, clearly for traveling and keeping the wearer warm.
But when the pair saw Aaron's face, their broke into expressions of aggression. The boy drew a concealed sword tucked into his trousers. The girl withdrawing a dagger that Aaron assumed had been in her boot.
“Stay back elf!” said the boy in pure rage, “stay back or I'll gut you!” Aaron was stunned. Of course, he knew that the elves and the humans weren't on exactly on friendly terms, but he had assumed that the humans west of the war wouldn't be quite so aggressive. And if he was wrong about that, his journey was going to be come a lot harder. No inns, or towns. He would need to avoid both until he reached Luandale.
“Wait,” said Aaron holding his hands out in front of him, startled by the rage emanating from the pair, “I'm not looking for trouble. I'm just passing through, relax...”
“Relax?” said the girl, her voice falling pleasantly on Aaron's ears, even if it was furious, “are you stupid? Do you think your kind can just stroll around the place, as if you have nothing to answer for?”
Aaron started to slowly walk backwards his hands still in front of him. The pair were clearly furious.
“Ok,” said Aaron, choosing his words wisely, “I know our kinds aren’t on the best of terms right now-”
“That,” said the boy taking a step closer, and Aaron stopped backing away, “is an understatement.”
“Shall we kill him Turak?” said the girl taking a step also taking a step closer, the knife a strip of glowing metal in hand, as it caught the sun.
Turak, Aaron assumed, seemed to be studying him, seizing him up, deciding if he would an easy kill. Then he charged.
Uncle Stept had not failed to train Aaron in self defense in the 14 years he had lived with him. Aaron clearly remembered one day when he was 10. Stept had refused to let Aaron in for supper until he achieved the impossible shot a splitting an arrow on the middle of the bulleye in half. Stept had set a target carved into a tree, and told Aaron he must stand from 50 feet to make this seemingly impossible shot even harder. Aaron had only one arrow, and after every shot he would need to track all the back to the tree and then return to the line Stept and drawn in the dirt. Long after the sun had dipped below the tree, and his patience was spent, Aaron had thrown the bow onto the dirt in defeat. He sat down on the ground next to his bow, and had started to cry. He was cold, hungry, and frustrated. Aaron remembered Stept coming out of the cabin and asking, “why do you cry Aaron?”
“You know why!” Aaron remembered saying “I can't do this! And I'm hungry, can't you let me in?”
Stept had crouched beside him. “You're giving up?” Aaron nodded, rubbing his eyes, trying to cover the falling tears.
Stept remained silent for a few minuets before he had said, “You know who never gave up?”
Aaron sighed and shook his head, “Who?”
“Your parents,” said Stept, “they never gave up. Home destroyed? No problem. They just bring their child to his crazy uncle who lives in the woods. No money? Just earn the money on the Cobble Road as a traveling trader, selling what few possession they rescued in order to buy a new home.”
Stept rested his hand on Aaron's shoulder. “They were strong,” he said in soft voice, “you are strong. I know you don't understand now, but one day you'll thank for this.”
Aaron had looked into Stept's eyes, “Really?”
“Yes,” said Stept, brushing his then brown hair away from his face.
“Now,” said Stept, his voice hardening, “Aaron Wishweaver get off your butt, pick up your little bow, and make that shot, because they never gave up and neither will you!”
And after an hour and many inspirational speeches from Stept later, he did.
All this flashed across Aaron's mind as Turak's sword lunged at his throat. Never give up, thought Aaron to himself or Stept will come out here and kill me himself...
Aaron knew what he needed to do.

Description
Joleb hit the ground, rolling into a crouch, dirt flying up behind him. Shouts were coming from the house behind him, lights flickering on like it was under attack, the shafts of luminosity piercing the black night.
Joleb grinned. Not an attack of course, he thought with pleasure just a robbery. He tightened his grip on the leather purse clutched in his hand, feeling the tightly stitched material. He shook it once, just to make sure the purse contained the contents he desired. Indeed, the clanking of gold and silverware echoed from the purse.
“Thief” yelled someone behind him. Joleb straitened up, not needing to look to know that there was a city guard, who was no doubt pointing a spear or sword at him. “Drop all of your weapons and surrender in the name of King Hetnier!” yelled the guard, trying to sound intimidating. Joleb shook his head. The guard had obviously rehearsed this. “Afraid not.” said Joleb, swinging the purse over his shoulder.
“I am armed, lawbreaker!”
Joleb didn't even need to see the guards face to know that it was most likely contorted in fury. Honestly, thought Joleb “lawbreaker?” I prefer the term law-avoider....or anarchist.
“Do you know who I am?” said Joleb quietly and turned finally turned around. The guard and big and muscular, with hands big enough to lift a horse. Any other detail that Joleb may have been able to decipher was blocked by heavy armor, that completely covered all of his opponents limbs.
When the guard saw Joleb face he backed up stunned. “Do you know...” said Joleb with a misleadingly calm tone, “WHO THE HELL I AM?” The guard stumbled back, and tripped on a jutting cobblestone, lading heavily.
He finally stuttered “R-R-Reaper.” Joleb slowly walked towards the fallen guard and as he did, pebbles and debris started to rise slowly around him, as if they were lifted by strings, but of course, they weren’t.
“Very good meat-shield,” he said with the same calm demeanor, “and do you know what happened to the other 20 guards that tried to kill me four sunrises ago?” The guard picked himself and his spear from the cobblestones, and sprinted away from Joleb. Or at least he tried. He hadn't made it twenty paces before his movements slowed, as if we was running through water. He continued to decrease speed, until finally, his arms and legs were making the proper movements to run, but he wasn't moving at all. Some invisible force had paralyzed him. He then was lifted from the ground, not unlike the pebbles that had rose when Joleb had first begun his approach, which were now swirling around Joleb in increasingly hasty rotations. The guard didn’t stop floating through the air until he was facing Joleb from a couple of feet away, hovering a similar distance above the ground.
“Do you know what happened to them?” said Joleb whispered, so softly that the guard could barely hear him. The guard did not speak, his face frozen in terror.
“Don't know?” said Joleb closing his eyes, “then I'll tell you.” When he opened his eyes, they were pitch black. No pupils or retainers. Just black as the depths of a well.
“They were never found again.”
The guard terrified, threw his spear at Joleb. It shaft pierced Joleb's chest and exited, tinged with crimson blood.
The guard was suddenly released from the invisible prison that held him in the air, and fell heavily onto the cobblestones. Joleb swayed on the spot, then keeled over and lay still. The guard clambered to his feet stunned, no doubt thinking if he had actually just killed the most deadly and famous thief in Aritime.
Wishful thinking thought Joleb. He straitened to a kneel. “What?” in pure confusion, “nobody could have survived that...” He voice raised to shout, “Nobody!”
The blood that covered the tip of the spear flew through the air and back into Joleb's chest, as well as the spattered blood that lay on the cobblestones. After a few seconds, the wound closed up, and the only evidence that the incident had occurred was a spear lying behind Joleb, free of any crimson end.
“Did I ever tell you why they call me Reaper?” said Joleb quietly, still holding his calm demeanor, “they call me Reaper, because no matter what you do, or how many times to cut me open, I won't stay down. I won't die. And I certainly make sure,” continued Joleb his voice steadily increasing in volume “to kill whoever was foolish enough to try!”
A knife materialized into Joleb's hand, and he lunged forward, and as quick as any realm of possibility and slit the guards throat. A flaw in the armor, he thought to cover almost every limb, but to leave your neck exposed.. He would make sure to send a complaint to the castle. It might make these tiresome fights a little more exiting.
The guard fell, life gone from him, onto the battered cobblestones.
Shouts came from behind Joleb. No doubt the rest of the cities guards would be here soon, to find yet another victim of “Reaper” and yet another house would be robbed of it's valuables.
Joleb took to a sprint, and he knew, that no matter how fast the guards ran, they would never catch him.

Henting awoke early the next day, and that was saying something. Usually a soldiers day began about an hour before sunrise, unless of course, you were on watch. He lay in the dark, knowing that he would not be able to return to the peace of sleep, listening to the wind and the grunts of the other men as they dreamed.
As he lay there, sore and frustrated, Henting happened to glance towards the front of the tent. The flaps were being blown open by the wind, revealing the landscape beyond. And just for a second, Henting could of swore that he a figure cross through the dark, low to the ground, as if crouching. And as the figure crossed a path of moonlight, Henting could make out some of the figures details. It was tall, for sure, and a robe bellowed behind the figure. Lean build and Pointed ears? thought Henting in amazement. Surely no elf would be stupid enough to walk into the very heart of a camp of humans?
The elf must have been very careful about it's about it's approach to be able to sneak past the multiple watches that stood on duty in the dark.
Henting slowly got to his feet, brushing off his blanket as quietly as he could. He peeked around the flap of the tent, and in the same movement, grabbed his sword that he kept beside his mat; ironically, for situations such as these. Henting decided then to not wake his fellow soldiers. I can easily depose of this elf myself, he reasoned with himself no need to wake the others. Besides if something does go wrong, I can just shout.
Henting crouch down as he left the shelter of the tent, not unlike the elf he was following. Stealth and patience were key here. He followed the elf through the dark getting closer, raising his sword higher and higher as he got closer and closer.
Then quite suddenly the elf veered to the left, down a small hill, and followed the shore of a march. Henting halted for a second of two, confused. He had assumed to the elf was an assassin, sent to kill General Ridge, whose tent had been in the direction the figure had been originally headed. But now the elf seemed to be heading out of the camp, and into the endless expanse of marches and wasteland, and in the approximate direction of Aritime, away from the Sunset Forest and the Red Line. Where is he going? wondered Henting. Suddenly he questioned himself on whether he should continue his pursuit of the elf. If it was passing through it wasn't doing much harm. But then again thought Henting I can't very well go to bed now that I know that there's an elf sneaking around. He shook his head, and followed the elf, not entirely sure of what to expect.

Aaron shivered. The first night of the road had been a cold and lonely one. When he had left Stept's cabin in the afternoon, he had wandered through the woods for about an hour before coming his destination, The Cobble Road. This road forked from Aritime to all over the west side of Equinnox, splitting at many places. No matter which fork you took, to road would run through a fair amount of towns before all the roads met at Luandale. It's nice thought Aaron to be able to take which ever path you wish and still end up at the same place... The Roads many paths indeed ran through almost every town and landmark between here and Luandale, but eventually they would all meet at the latter, making the western side of Equinnox a much easier land to navigate. Of course if you wished to travel to Balla Mor, the mountain kingdom of the dwarves, you had to stay on the left path at each juncture. But besides from that, all of The Cobble Roads paths lead to Laundale, besides from another that lead to The Sand. If you wished to go that way, though Aaron could not think of any reason on the spot of why you would, you simply had to take the right road at each juncture.
Many trader caravans and carriages passed through The Cobble Road, trading supplies between the big cities and the small towns. Most of these traders passed back and forth from Aritime and Balla Mor. The dwarves and humans and established a healthy alliance. Each race had much to give to the other. The humans craved the dwarves massive amount of precious stones and rare jewels, the humans supplied the dwarves with silk, leather and food, all which were quite difficult to come across in Balla Mor and the enormous mountains around it. Of course the dwarves had a healthy supplies of native beasts that lived in the mountains, but they were are meat and nothing else. The dwarves for instance, were now quite fond of fish and for some strange reason pie, which they now practically worshiped, since being introduced to them by the humans. It had to be noted however, that the time humans had gifted vegetables to the dwarves it had not gone well. Long story short, dwarves now refused to eat vegetables or any kind of green food, claiming it was like “poison in our mouths”.
Aaron had grown exited when the road came into view, for he knew that it would leave him strait to Luandale, with plenty of stops in villages along the way. His journey had really begun. He had traveled down the roads, occasionally dodging passing caravans and stopping to decide which path he should take, till the sun had gone down. Aaron had layed out his blankets and supplies about 50 feet away from the road, and curled up to sleep. He had hoped, of course, that he wouldn't have to do this often. With any luck, most of his nights would be spent in the inns of towns, curled up in a rented bed. This would happen, he was sure, but some nights like this one would have to be spent exposed to the elements.
As the sun rose, Aaron hoped that he would be sleeping in a warm bed tonight. It had been freezing out in the open, and he hoped he wouldn't have to sleep in the open for two nights strait.
After packing all his supplies in his bag, and slinging it over his shoulder, Aaron stepped back onto the path and resumed his journey. After about an hour, when Aaron came upon another juncture, he spotted two other travelers, both slightly ahead of him on the path. They were both human, that much was clear, and from what Aaron could tell from the back of their heads, both about the same age as he.
“Good afternoon.” Aaron called to them friendly, and when they turned, he could finally make out some proper details.
The first one was a boy(now that Aaron could see) slightly older then Aaron. He had a large build and long dark hair, that descended down his back like a flow of water. His face was slightly coated in dirt, as if he had been traveling for many days. His eyes were a bit squint, and were dark like his hair, but not in an intimidating way. They had warmth in them too.
His companion was a girl, also with long dark hair, and a face coated with grime. But it were her eyes that sent a shiver down Aaron's spine. Her eyes were the brightest shade of blue Aaron had ever seen, like ice. Also unlike her companion her face had many laugh lines compared to the boys stoic one. She was slender too, like an elf. Both of the travelers were wearing leather clothes, clearly for traveling and keeping the wearer warm.
But when the pair saw Aaron's face, their broke into expressions of aggression. The boy drew a concealed sword tucked into his trousers. The girl withdrawing a dagger that Aaron assumed had been in her boot.
“Stay back elf!” said the boy in pure rage, “stay back or I'll gut you!” Aaron was stunned. Of course, he knew that the elves and the humans weren't on exactly on friendly terms, but he had assumed that the humans west of the war wouldn't be quite so aggressive. And if he was wrong about that, his journey was going to be come a lot harder. No inns, or towns. He would need to avoid both until he reached Luandale.
“Wait,” said Aaron holding his hands out in front of him, startled by the rage emanating from the pair, “I'm not looking for trouble. I'm just passing through, relax...”
“Relax?” said the girl, her voice falling pleasantly on Aaron's ears, even if it was furious, “are you stupid? Do you think your kind can just stroll around the place, as if you have nothing to answer for?”
Aaron started to slowly walk backwards his hands still in front of him. The pair were clearly furious.
“Ok,” said Aaron, choosing his words wisely, “I know our kinds aren’t on the best of terms right now-”
“That,” said the boy taking a step closer, and Aaron stopped backing away, “is an understatement.”
“Shall we kill him Turak?” said the girl taking a step also taking a step closer, the knife a strip of glowing metal in hand, as it caught the sun.
Turak, Aaron assumed, seemed to be studying him, seizing him up, deciding if he would an easy kill. Then he charged.
Uncle Stept had not failed to train Aaron in self defense in the 14 years he had lived with him. Aaron clearly remembered one day when he was 10. Stept had refused to let Aaron in for supper until he achieved the impossible shot a splitting an arrow on the middle of the bulleye in half. Stept had set a target carved into a tree, and told Aaron he must stand from 50 feet to make this seemingly impossible shot even harder. Aaron had only one arrow, and after every shot he would need to track all the back to the tree and then return to the line Stept and drawn in the dirt. Long after the sun had dipped below the tree, and his patience was spent, Aaron had thrown the bow onto the dirt in defeat. He sat down on the ground next to his bow, and had started to cry. He was cold, hungry, and frustrated. Aaron remembered Stept coming out of the cabin and asking, “why do you cry Aaron?”
“You know why!” Aaron remembered saying “I can't do this! And I'm hungry, can't you let me in?”
Stept had crouched beside him. “You're giving up?” Aaron nodded, rubbing his eyes, trying to cover the falling tears.
Stept remained silent for a few minuets before he had said, “You know who never gave up?”
Aaron sighed and shook his head, “Who?”
“Your parents,” said Stept, “they never gave up. Home destroyed? No problem. They just bring their child to his crazy uncle who lives in the woods. No money? Just earn the money on the Cobble Road as a traveling trader, selling what few possession they rescued in order to buy a new home.”
Stept rested his hand on Aaron's shoulder. “They were strong,” he said in soft voice, “you are strong. I know you don't understand now, but one day you'll thank for this.”
Aaron had looked into Stept's eyes, “Really?”
“Yes,” said Stept, brushing his then brown hair away from his face.
“Now,” said Stept, his voice hardening, “Aaron Wishweaver get off your butt, pick up your little bow, and make that shot, because they never gave up and neither will you!”
And after an hour and many inspirational speeches from Stept later, he did.
All this flashed across Aaron's mind as Turak's sword lunged at his throat. Never give up, thought Aaron to himself or Stept will come out here and kill me himself...
Aaron knew what he needed to do.