The Cruel Lord

AS MAERWYNN DELVED DEEPER into the dense woods, the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of woodland creatures surrounded her. The cool autumn breeze filled her lungs as she moved with the grace of a seasoned hunter. Hunger gnawed at her belly, and her arms ached from carrying her bow in search of sustenance, akin to a famished predator. The truth was, hunger gripped not just her but all of Ferngrove.

Until two years ago, Ferngrove thrived. Its lands were abundant, and fishermen returned daily with tales of plentiful catches. However, the past two years had been marked by hardship. Famine had become their unwanted companion. The once plentiful fish had vanished from their waters, and the wildlife seemed to be in constant flux. Some whispered of a curse upon Ferngrove, but Mae's father, the village chief, insisted it was merely a phase. But how long must they endure?

Mae pressed forward, her bow at the ready, its wood worn smooth by countless hunts. Each step reinforced her duty to provide for her family, a tranquil hamlet nestled among ancient trees, far removed from the chaos of the outside world beyond the sea. Ferngrove was her birthplace and her home.

The forest teemed with life, its mysteries concealed in the shifting play of light and shadow. Moving silently, she stalked through the underbrush, alert to the slightest sound. Then, amidst the verdant quiet, she spied her - a magnificent doe, her sleek form illuminated by the golden rays, grazing peacefully.

With adrenaline coursing through her veins, she seized the opportunity to provide for her family, to showcase her prowess as a hunter. But hesitation was a luxury she couldn't afford; another hungry soul might claim the prize if she faltered. She envisioned Edina's joyful dance and her father's proud smile as she returned home triumphant, burdened with the weight of their evening meal.

Drawing her bow, she aimed carefully, but her first shot missed its mark, the doe darting away. Disappointment weighed heavily on her, but determination spurred her on. With resolve, she pursued her elusive prey, navigating through the dense foliage, driven by the urgency of the chase.

Eventually, she found the doe again, grazing serenely in a sunlit glade. Taking a deep breath, Mae steadied her aim and released the arrow, this time striking true. The doe stumbled and fell.

Approaching the doe with reverence, Mae acknowledged the sacrifice made for her family's survival. With gratitude, she lifted the doe onto her shoulders, ready to return to Ferngrove with their bounty. As she trekked homeward, a sense of pride and accomplishment filled her.

Mae was the born hunter in her family and always had to scar her hand to provide for them when her father's merchandize didn't fall through.

Approaching their humble cottage nestled among the towering trees, Mae felt a wave of solace wash over her. The familiar sight of its weathered thatched roof and sturdy wooden walls greeted her, basking in the warm embrace of the setting sun.

Peering through the small window, she caught sight of Edina, her elder sister, lost in contemplation as she gazed out at the horizon. Her golden brown hair, reminiscent of their father's, framed her face, illuminated by the gentle glow filtering through the windowpane.

Pushing open the door, its familiar creak echoing in the quietude, Mae entered the house. The comforting scent of home greeted her - the earthy warmth of the hearth mingled with the subtle sweetness of drying herbs hanging from the rafters. Edina turned towards her, her eyes alight with a mixture of relief and curiosity at her return.

"Mae, you've returned!" Edina exclaimed, gracefully rising from her seat to greet her. Her blue dress billowed around her, accentuated by a delicate white corset adorned with flowers. Edina was the epitome of grace, a stark contrast to Mae's own rugged appearance as a hunter, clad in fitted pants, a loose tunic, and a leather waistcoat, with worn boots and scarred hands from countless hunts for their supper.

"Did your hunt go well today?" Edina inquired eagerly.

Mae offered her a weary smile, the weight of the doe on her shoulders a tangible reminder of her success. "Yes, Edina. I managed to secure our dinner for tonight," she replied, her voice tinged with pride.

Gratitude shone in Edina's eyes as she hurried to assist Mae in unloading the carcass. "Just dinner? You've provided for us for the entire week," she exclaimed, her hand gently brushing over the doe's fur. "Father will be thrilled."

Glancing around the cottage, Mae inquired, "Where is he?"

Edina's expression faltered. "Father? He went into town to negotiate with some merchants from distant lands at the market square. He's hoping to secure a loan to aid the villagers."

Mae chuckled softly, nudging Edina playfully. "Father and his noble endeavors to save the village with the help of those greedy fat merchants. Always the dedicated chief, isn't he?"

Rolling her eyes in mock exasperation, Edina smiled. "Indeed, with his grand plans that always fails and unwavering commitment with the merchants. But we need someone to watch over us, especially with the challenges we've been facing. He might just get it right this time"

Mae nodded in agreement, empathizing with the weight their father carried as the chief of a struggling village. "Indeed, let's hope his efforts yield positive results this time. A bit of good news would certainly be a welcome change."

As they busied themselves with preparing the doe for cooking, their conversation shifted to lighter topics - village gossip, Edina's latest embroidery projects, and even her rumored crush on a certain handsome blacksmith's apprentice.

"So, Edina," Mae teased, a playful glint in her eye, "any updates on your secret admirer? Or shall I continue to feign ignorance whenever he passes by?"

Edina's cheeks flushed, and she playfully swatted at Mae. "Oh, hush! It's nothing serious, just a passing fancy."

Mae grinned, enjoying the chance to tease her sister. "Sure, sure. Well, if you ever need advice on matters of the heart, you know where to find me."

Edina's playful demeanor shifted as she turned the tables. "Speaking of secrets, care to share anything about your rendezvous with Adrian? The girls at the temple seem quite convinced that there's something going on between you two"

Caught off guard, Mae chuckled nervously. "It's just companionship, nothing more."

Edina raised an eyebrow. "Companionship that involves visits to inns and strolls through the market, hmm?"

Before Mae could respond, the door creaked open, and their father, Chief Ingred entered, his expression etched with concern.

"Mae, Edina," he began gravely, "we need to talk. Something has happened - something dire."

Mae's heart sank at the seriousness in his voice, and she exchanged a worried glance with Edina. Whatever news their father brought, she knew it spelled trouble for them or perhabs the town at large.

Guiding their father to the worn wooden table, Edina fetched him a cup of water, her steps echoing against the floorboards. Returning quickly, she handed him the cup, and they waited anxiously for him to speak.

"Father, please," Mae urged softly, her concern evident in her voice. "Tell us what's troubling you."

With a heavy sigh, their father met their gazes, his grip tightening around their hands. "My daughters," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "I fear I've let you both down."

Edina leaned in, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Is it the merchants, Father? Did they refuse to aid us again?"

He shook his head solemnly. "No, my dear. It's something far graver."

Anxiety clenched Mae's heart as she exchanged a worried glance with Edina. "What do you mean, Father? Please, tell us."

Ingreds expression darkened, his tone serious as he uttered words that filled them with dread. "Darkness has befallen our village, and with it, a threat more sinister than anything we've encountered. Evil has come to our doorstep."