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Friendship Fantasy Suspense

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

The last six months have been hell, no, worse. In hell the people suffering deserve to be there. They earned that fate. These six months have been endless death, hunger, suffering, and torture for those fighting in the name of their Lords. Nothing is deadlier to the men who work this soil than a feud between the men who own it. 

Yet here, today, we have peace. Three days of peace to be precise. The lords may spew bravado, greed pumping through the veins with every beat of their heart, but even they do not dare to disrespect the Gods. Especially in a time of war, when the Gods’ favor could be the difference between victory and defeat. There will be no killing, no spying, no harm done by either side. Instead, we pay tribute to the Gods and thank them for the returning Sun. If we please the Gods, the darkness will recede by the day. The sun will once again shine its light on our fields and our homes for another fruitful season of growth. 

I may not have to kill any men today, but with any luck, a kill will come. The larger the beast the better, more meat, more fur. Several of us archers have gone our own ways to hunt. The men, almost desperately, wished me luck on the way out of camp. As much as their words offer support, their hungry heavy eyes apply pressure. Not that I blame them. 

I head southwest. Moose and bear are often drawn to the streams trickling life down from the mountains. The trip isn’t too taxing, the forest isn’t as thick in the cold. Bare branches and the hard barren forest floor offer easy traveling. Come spring it would take twice as long to make it to the base of the waterfall. This gives me more time to track and find a good vantage point. I’ll never grow tired of the sound of waterfalls. It’s a constant drone that fills the soul with spirit. The drone of water against water is a welcome break from the sounds of battle. Metal and wood thudding together, men yelling in rage and screaming in agony. War is the sound of force against force. The sound of water is peaceful, flowing. It travels as a unit down the path of least resistance. Taking the Earth as it is, and moving forward. 

It doesn’t take long to spot the impressions of bear paws in the damp mud near the stream. Prints of different sizes, some days old and some as fresh as this morning. They must consider this a safe watering hole and fishing spot now that the men are distracted killing each other. This hunt will be easier than expected. I begin to look around for a good spot on the ridge that will offer an easy shot when they return. The cliff to the side of the waterfall seems to have a small shelf where I can camp, and have a great view of my prey to come. 

As I begin to ascend the rocky path there’s a loud crash just above me. A stone hammers into the ledge. Dust from the impact irritates my eyes for just a moment. I wipe them free of the stinging sensation and notice a man standing across the stream. His fur is worn and tattered and his slingshot in once again loaded and aimed directly at me. The ledge above me would offer shelter from his slingshot. I could take a hit or two and get to safety but I’m here to hunt a beast, not a man. 

“I’m not here to harm you.” I say while showing him my empty hands. 

“The next one won’t miss.” he calls back. “What are you doing here?” 

“It’s a time of peace.” I say confidently. “I’m here to hunt, just as you are.” 

“You carry an archer’s bow and knives. I’m sure my Lord would be curious to know what an assassin like yourself is doing so close to his land.” 

“It is a time of peace.” I repeat. I could tell him his puny slingshot would only hurt me but not stop me. I could easily make it to this ledge and have an arrow through his heart before he could even speak the name of his Lord. Lucky for him my hunger for bear is greater than my thirst for blood. “I’ve spotted bear prints. I will be camping right here until they return. Once I get my beast I’ll be gone. I have no intentions of crossing this water now or ever.” 

“Bear?” he sounds surprised. “You expect to kill a bear with that bow of yours, impossible.” 

“Maybe for you.” I jest. “Watch me if you must. I will be staying here until the pack returns. Once I get what I’m here for I will be gone. What are you hunting with that little stone thrower anyways? Squirrel, rabbits?” 

“Of course, only a fool would attempt to come out here alone and walk out with a bear.” 

“Ah, then let me be a fool. Either way I’m not here to harm you or assassinate any lord for that matter.” 

He’s silent, clearly debating with himself on whether to believe me. Gods, please don’t make me have to kill this man to feed my own. He’s silent. 

“The waterfall.” I begin. “I come here because the waterfall clears my mind, allows me to focus on the hunt. I’ll stay on my side, you on yours. Let’s not bring the ugliness of war to this peaceful place.” 

“The waterfall.” he echoes my words. “So be it. But if you even think about crossing this stream or sneaking by, my next stone will find its place between your eyes.” 

“Understood.” Finally. “They likely won’t return until morning, are you going to babysit me all night?” 

“If I must.” He says while dropping his slingshot back to his side. 

I make my pallet and collect as much dry wood as I can for a fire tonight. As I prepare my area, I notice he is doing the same. He makes a small fire in a stone cave on his side of the waterfall. It’s more crevasse than cave but offers him shelter with a view of the trees, and of me. Once settled I look out over the stream. Between the warmth of the fire and the vibration of the waterfall I begin to dose off. In the middle of war, I consider myself blessed to have a full night of sleep and an easy hunt ahead of me. 

I begin to drift off to sleep when I hear a dull thump up in a tree, followed by another on the ground. My friend across the water managed to drop a squirrel off a branch. 

“Nice shot.” I call out over the sound of the waterfall. 

“I could fill my belt a hundred times before you drop a bear with that bow of yours.” he answers. 

“Perhaps. We’ll find out in the morning.” 

I lay my head back down. The stars are on display tonight. Beautiful shining lights intertwined with swirls of purple, blue and pink. The Gods are the greatest of artists. I get lost in their beauty until the smell of meat enters my nostrils. Apparently, he’s using his fire for more than warmth tonight. 

“What makes you so confident?” his voice breaks the silence. I turn my head towards the sound of his voice. “Your arrows won’t even reach an organ; they’ll barely break the hide if you’re lucky.” 

I have an answer but remain unsure if I should offer it. My bow is stronger than most, most men can’t pull it to a draw. Those who can are straining to the point where accuracy becomes impossible. I’ve been using this strong bow for years, my father designed it and made sure I would grow up strong enough to use it. My first successful bear hunt was years ago, my father was still alive to see it. I believe it was the greatest day of his life. He bragged throughout the village of how his bow in the hands of his son could drop any beast. Nobody believed him, as predicted. Every hunter in our valley came to see for themselves, every one of them as surprised as the last. I could tell him this story but what would be the point. No matter what I say he won’t believe me until he is a witness himself come morning. 

“Ah, I have a magic bow.” I tease. “Handed directly to me from the Gods themselves. I can drop any creature that walks the Earth.” 

“You really are a fool.” he chuckles. “I have too much meat here just for me, I don’t want it to go to waste or draw any unwanted visitors tonight. Would you like some archer?” 

“Hmm.” I ponder the offer. “I have some fresh apples I could trade you. Very sweet, very juicy.” 

We agree to meet at the stream and make the trade. I savor the flavor of charred meat while he crunches into the crisp apple. The squirrel is delicious, I wonder if I’m hungrier than I thought. I eat each bite a little faster than the last. 

“So, what do you do,” I speak between bites. “When we’re not at war, you know?” 

“I own an Inn.” he says. “We have hot meals, strong drinks and a few beds. We mostly cater to travelers. The occasional high lord or lady who wants a rendezvous outside of their normal circles. I hunt the meat and cook the food while my wife does, well, everything else.” 

“Any young one’s?” I ask noticing he looks a bit older than myself. 

“Yes.” he pauses. “Two. A boy and a girl. They’re young but they already make me proud every day.” 

“Ah, they take after their mother then.” We laugh. “Why are you fighting then, if you host lords and ladies, I imagine you could leverage that to stay out of this war. Secrets can have perks.” 

“The lords would rather remove me and my family, take over the Inn themselves, likely have one of their bastard kids run the place. No. Fighting is the only way I still have something to give to my children someday. What about you, what lowly story leads you to the be a bottom feeder such as me?” 

“The same thing that makes me so sure I’ll have a bear on my cart tomorrow. This bow and the skill I have with it. I was practically born with this thing in my hand, and my father made sure everybody knew it. I have a reputation in our village. If I were to walk away, I would be carrying their fighting spirit out with me.” 

“Do you think this will ever end? Perhaps, one day the peasants will refuse to fight. If the lords had to risk their own lives', I’m sure they’d find it easier to resolve their issues without bloodshed.” 

“A dream,” I laugh. “No, I don’t think that day will come. People will always choose the evil they know.” 

After a few laughs and a few more stories, I make my way back to my fire, and him to his. A full belly, a happy spirit. The vibration of the waterfall makes me sleep heavier than a baby in his mother’s bosom. 

I wake to the sound of stone hitting stone. Startled, I quickly jump to my knees with my bow in hand. I spot the man across the river waving a hand at me. He jousts his finger towards the stream below me. Four bears, all full grown and look to be well fed. I look back at the man as he pulls back the string on an imaginary bow and fires. He then points to the pack once again. I raise my palm up and nod. 

I bring my left foot to the ground and keep my right knee to the stone. Steady, grounded, slowly I bring the arrow to my bowstring and draw. A slight creak escapes the wood as it curves under the weight of my pull. The bears freeze at the sound of it. I release. The arrow pierces beside the leg, directly into the heart and lungs of the massive predator. The beast wails and drops to the ground as the others scatter. They grunt as they run to the trail they came in on. 

“The bow of the Gods.” he yells from across the stream. “You actually did it.” 

I smile and shrug a shoulder to the man. Seeing pure joy and shock on someone’s face never gets old. I raise my bow to him. 

“The bow of the Gods.” he shouts again. 

After venturing back to the trailhead to retrieve my cart I begin to dress and quarter the bear. Even with two men loading the bear on my cart in one piece would be impossible. It easily weighs as much as five men. While dressing the bear, I remove the heart and wrap it in a spice cloth. 

“For you, a special dinner for your family tonight.” I say tossing the wrapped heart to the man across the stream. “Enjoy it.” 

“Thank you.” he says. “I’ll tell my wife of your great feat and your kindness.” 

“Good luck in the days to come.” 

“And to you.” 

Upon returning to the camp, I was welcomed with cheers. The archers all returned with game but none greater than the bear. 

“Congratulations,” one man yells. “Your father would be proud.” 

“Ah, you know kissing my ass won’t get you extra.” I laugh. “We’ll all get a fair share.” 


The feasts were full of life. Drinks, fires, dancing, men seeing the women they haven’t seen for months. But the days have passed, and the pause will soon be lifted. Men are once again ready for battle. Ales have been replaced by axes, stews replaced by swords. Here we are again. The men who work the soil ready to kill and die for the men who own it. 

We prepare an ambush. Our lookout saw a large troop traveling through the trees, likely hoping to surprise us on our own land. Knowing where the terrain would take them, we decided to set up in trees on both sides of the ridgeline. As they plan to make their final push, they’ll be surrounded and won't know it until it’s too late. I wish we could take hostages, make a peace agreement, do anything but kill these men who are no different than us. But they are not us. The Gods have chosen a side. Fate will find them faster than it finds us. 

Once they are in position we charge. It goes as planned. We are dropping their men four to one. It won't take long until they are forced to surrender. I choose my shots carefully. It would be easy to hit my own men if shooting blindly. As I scan for any of my men in trouble, I spot the man from across the stream. He fights beautifully. Never too much force, simply flowing where the momentum takes him. Like water traversing the Earth. He slices through three men before I remember he is not my ally. I draw my bow on the man. He’ll cut down a dozen, at least, if I don’t stop him now. Still drawn, I can’t bring myself to do it. I shift my feet and aim towards the hilltop where their leaders are cowardly watching their men die. They would be at a safe distance from the battle if it weren’t for me, for my “bow of the Gods.” 

I fire a single arrow at a man on horseback. The razor-sharp arrowhead easily digs into his chest and directly into his heart. Somehow, the shot is more satisfying than the arrow I planted in the bear a few mornings ago. The shock on the faces of the men next to him more satisfying than that of the man across the stream when he watched me drop the bear. A loud horn sounds, they are surrendering. It’s amazing how quickly they give up when it’s their own blood on the ground. The battle below me quickly concludes with the sound of the horn. They have only a few men left, but they drop their swords and raise their hands. 

I make my way to the battlefield and find the man from across the stream. 

“Told you they won’t fight when their necks are on the line.” 

“Bow of the God’s.” He smiles, clearly exhausted. 

The commanders from both sides enter the battlefield, now that the fighting is done, to meet face to face. 

“Why didn’t you kill me.” he asks. 

“Ah, once these empty-headed fools work out their peace agreement, I’d like to visit that Inn of yours. See how good your food is when you have an actual kitch...” 

“Kill them all!” Shouts one of my leaders from his horse. 

“Wait” I scream, but it’s too late. 

The unarmed men are chopped down like weeds. The man from across the stream’s head is separated from his body with a single swing of an axe from behind. 

I scream again, more of a roar, with no words attached to it. I take my knife and jam it into the throat of the man with the axe, then pull back an arrow and release into the chest of the man who gave the command to kill the unarmed men. I pull another and aim at his general. Before I can watch the arrow enter his chest, my world goes dark. 

December 30, 2024 22:27

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8 comments

Rudy Greene
22:33 Jan 08, 2025

Great story and writing.. You start with a good hook Your descriptions of sights and sounds are crisp and vivid. The low is good. You develop the relationship between the two men well, leading to the tension and tragedy at the end. Wonderful piece.

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Bon Bennett
01:43 Jan 10, 2025

Thanks. I appreciate you taking the time to read it.

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Graham Kinross
17:12 Jan 07, 2025

So the MC dies at the end? It’s a touching thing for the archer and the other hunter to get the bear together, showing trust. Giving the heart seems symbolic of that.

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Bon Bennett
18:25 Jan 08, 2025

Honestly idk if he dies. Perhaps he knocked out and imprisoned. Short stories are new to me and it was a struggle to not continue exploring the story. I decided leaving it without a decisive ending was the only way I was comfortable posting it.

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Graham Kinross
21:05 Jan 08, 2025

That’s fair enough. It can be hard to write combat scenes your own way. Its a struggle I find not to glorify the violence while portraying a fact of life accurately and you did that well.

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Bon Bennett
22:22 Jan 08, 2025

Thanks. I'm glad it came across the right way.

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Graham Kinross
23:06 Jan 08, 2025

You’re welcome Bon.

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Bon Bennett
14:07 Jan 06, 2025

This is my first submission. I typically write longer fiction and songs, so any tips or feedback would be welcomed. Thank you for reading.

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