The Tower of Sorcery

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It was going to be a good day.

Tarrin stumbled slightly under the weight of the deer as he tried to step over a fallen log, working to prevent the end of his bow from snagging on the underbrush. The morning sun was piercing the thick canopy of the ancient woods at a low angle, splashing golden yellow light over tree trunks and occasionally hitting the back of a leaf, lighting it up from behind and giving it a golden glow. The air was warm and dry, and the forest was filled with the sounds of life; chirping birds, the cry of a squirrel, the rustle of the brush as a rabbit or chipmunk scurried about. The sounds were slightly alarmed, for Tarrin couldn't carry the deer carcass and manage any decent stealth, but he wasn't so noisy that they went totally silent.

He would make it back in plenty of time. The deer was already slated to be roasted at Summer's Dawn, a festival that the village held every year at the beginning of summer. It was a day for everyone in the village and on the surrounding farms to take a break from the grueling work, to bring something that represented the bounty of the land to a grand feast that would take place on the village green. Most people brought something from the wild, representing the richness of the forest, and it another way, giving thanks for it. When the crops failed, a family could survive with a bow or sling. Right at that moment, wives were skinning something freshly snared or shot, accepting bowls of mulchberries from the children who had picked them, or waiting for the husband to get back with his catch. Most men went after deer, but more often than not they had to settle for rabbit, or maybe even boar.

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