Bowman couldn’t help but think of wolves then. They could set ambushes for their prey, leading it right where they wanted it. Then, they could strike.
Bowman was the prey now. Prey of a thing big enough to crush him with a hand, and smart enough to lay a trap for him. He squirmed and writhed and only found himself more and more tangled as he did so. There was no escape, and those footsteps crashed closer.
The fingers crowded around him more and more, and no amount of pushing could stop them. Before he knew it, Bowman found himself hidden away in a fist. Only some of the afternoon light peeked in, taunting him while he did his best to keep breathing and fighting his own capture. He groaned with fear and effort, pushing his back into the palm while he shoved at one finger. The skin gave under his touch, but otherwise he had no effect. He was useless.
“N-no…” he whimpered, the word barely escaping him. His heart fluttered and his eyes stung. A headache, sudden and fierce, pressed in on his skull.
A noise that didn’t fit in with the rest of the forest sounds reached him, and Bowman sucked in a breath. His ears pricked to the sound of something walking through the foliage, something with enough mass to push aside many of the low bushes that grew throughout the woods.
He thought of deer, gentle, enormous creatures that hopped through the forest on light steps on occasion. They migrated near the village sometimes, but often not for long. A deer wouldn’t be an issue.
Then, he thought a wolf. Not as common as the deer, the hulking canines were still a much fiercer predator than their cousin the fox. Wolves walked on enormous paws and bared teeth the length of a sprite’s arm. Not many sprites could boast the bravery to face one. Bowman only knew of one, and it wasn’t him.
You BREAK the rules, Bowman, not just bend them! a voice piped up in his memory, sweet and colored with a laugh. Rischa, his young cousin, would surely scold him for a week once he got out of this one.
Deep in the woods, past the designated campgrounds, the forest was serene, all but glowing with verdant life. Birds sang to each other and fluttered their wings in mock chases. Squirrels, fat from campers always feeding them, spiraled around rough trunks of oak trees or curled up in the smooth branches of birch. Ferns and foliage carpeted the ground, broken up by narrow deer trails that meandered like arteries in the greater living thing that the forest truly was. Golden sunshine lit up motes of pollen floating lazily in the air.
Among the peaceful scene, grunts of pain and discomfort barely broke into the tranquil sound. A voice smaller than the chatters of a squirrel muttered something, and then huffed in frustration. Its source hung from a tree branch, suspended in a net of thin, earthy-colored ropes.
Bowman – Lost. Originally from this post, I was inspired by this prompt to go a little further than with the other little drabbles. This prompt will end up being canon to the Brothers Lost supernatural GT au co-written with @nightmares06. It will follow what’s been going on with Bowman Leafwing while Sam, Dean, and Jacob are traveling around saving people and hunting things.
It’s not finished yet, but I have a sneak peek to get everyone started.
Glancing down, Bowman reflected that maybe his luck wasn’t so terrible after all. Stuck hanging in the air, no matter how uncomfortable, was better than stuck lying on the ground.
Down there, any predator could stalk up to him, vicious claws caressing the dirt, and snap him up. Bowman was more helpless than he had ever been, and he still didn’t understand just what had happened.
He wasn’t supposed to venture too far in his patrols. He was meant to fly in a radius around the village at the forest of Wellwood’s center, watching for danger. All he had to do was warn everyone of anything he saw and he was doing his job right. Even so, flying for long days exhilarated Bowman like nothing else, and so he took what excuses he could. Like any rebellious wood sprite, he’d always bent rules.
You BREAK the rules, Bowman, not just bend them! a voice piped up in his memory, sweet and colored with a laugh. Rischa, his young cousin, would surely scold him for a week once he got out of this one.
He’d flown farther than he ever dared before. When he found a tall wall made of metal grids, he had to explore beyond it. He convinced himself it was for the good of the village.
Now he was stuck in some mess of discarded rope. It was as embarrassing as it was uncomfortable.
Brothers Apart 