The sun rose over the distant hills as a lone bird circled the sky in search of an early morning bite. Catching sight of a furry little rodent out for its morning walk, the bird stooped into a dive. Faster and faster it fell never taking its eyes off the mousy target until at the last possible second it flared its wings catching the wind. Claws extended it reached for the mouse, grabbing hold of it as it began to flap towards the sky again.
Robin watched the deadly ballet with morbid interest. She herself stood looking for her early morning meal and thus far she'd been thwarted by a small brown rabbit. Her bow string taught and bunny in sights she released the arrow. The rabbit leapt into the air and the arrow sailed harmlessly by frustrating Robin ever more. She was hungry and it effected her aim. She'd only shot at the maddening creature twice, but she missed twice, which was not like her at all. For Robin to miss was as rare as snow in summer.
She shook her head, sending her long ash hair tumbling over her face. Taming her tresses, Robin pulled her hair back away form her eyes and secured it with a leather string she always kept handy for such purposes. She poised to take aim again when the rabbit decided to stop playing with the adolescent hunter and hopped down its hole. Frustrated, Robin picked up a rock and hurled it down the rabbit hole. She couldn’t help laughing when a few seconds later the same rock came sailing through the air back at her. She easily sidestepped the small missile and watched it roll across the grass strewn ground beside her.
“All right rabbit, you win for now.” Robin slung her bow over her shoulder, picked up her satchel of meager belongings and continued on her way, sure to stoop and retrieve her two unsuccessful arrows as she did so. She had been traveling for what seemed a long time and she missed the predictability of her prey back home in the Dusk Woods. Though she felt hungry, Robin continued on her lonely trek, feeling the tightness of her stomach, having not eaten in two days. She knew her destination was close, mere hours away. That day would be the day of her arrival, though she expected little to no fanfare when she arrived at Ribbon Falls. The archery contest there attracted far more charismatic entrants than herself. They would receive the trumpets and the cheers. Robin laughed to herself, imagining how the pompous, arrogant sons of nobility would ride up on their magnificent mounts, flashing their white smiles and flipping their perfect hair to the swooning of every girl within range of their dreamy eyes. Every girl but herself. Robin knew all to well the drawing power of the charismatic. And she knew all to well how easily she could ignore it now.
Her stomach growled audibly and she stopped a moment to inspect a low lying bush laden with green berries. Her inability to catch breakfast that morning did not discourage her from entering the contest. When motivated, Robin could shoot a moving target faster than most humans could take aim at one standing still. She rarely missed and chalked up that morning’s performance to the fact the rabbit must have some other purpose in life than to be her breakfast.
Robin left the bush intact, determining the berries were probably unripe and therefore inedible. One must be careful what one ingests on the paths to Ribbon Falls. Still, hunger has a way of enticing one's body to allow for even the most inedible of substances. Robin turned around, contemplating returning to the only visible food available in that particular field.However, as she turned, her mind forgot the green unappetizing berries. Instead, she stared into the deep brown eyes of a particularly brown rabbit, sitting upon its haunches and gazing right back into her own tawny eyes. The rabbit sniffed the air, returned to all fours, and approached cautiously. Robin watched its slow gait, taking in the details of its long floppy ears, its thick, luxuriant fur, its startlingly intelligent expression. It stopped again, mere inches from her leather boots and once again sniffed the air. Then, as if a beloved pet, it stood on it back legs, placed its paws on her shins, and looked into her face, its very visage begging to be lifted into her arms.