In Eragon as a Mage

The morning broke with a golden light filtering through the trees, dappling the forest floor with patches of warmth. Leo stood outside the cabin, bow slung over his shoulder and pack secured tightly to his back. He inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air of the Spine fill his lungs. Today was different. Today, he would go where he'd never dared before.

The Spine stretched endlessly around him, its vast expanse filled with shadowed glades, towering trees, and secrets long buried. Leo's father had always cautioned him to stay near familiar grounds, warning of the dangers lurking in the deeper wilds. But Leo felt drawn to those places now. The mundane paths no longer held appeal; he needed to challenge himself, to push further into the unknown.

His first steps were cautious but purposeful, the crunch of his boots on the forest floor muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves and pine needles. The talon-crafted bow rested comfortably in his grip, a reassurance of his readiness. He moved silently, his senses attuned to every sound—the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of birds, the occasional snap of a twig.

The terrain began to change as he ventured deeper. The trees grew taller and more ancient, their gnarled roots twisting like the veins of the earth. Moss hung heavy from their branches, and the air took on a cool, damp quality. The path he followed soon disappeared entirely, leaving him to navigate by instinct.

Leo paused at a stream that wound through the woods, its water crystal clear as it bubbled over smooth stones. He knelt and cupped his hands, drinking deeply. As he splashed his face, the reflection staring back at him looked older, more determined.

Pressing onward, he began to notice signs of life—a scrape on a tree where antlers had rubbed, claw marks etched into bark, and the faint indentations of tracks in the soil. The deeper he went, the more vibrant the forest seemed. The birds were less common here, replaced by the occasional eerie call of creatures he couldn't identify.

Leo reached a clearing surrounded by towering firs. The light here was dim, the sun struggling to penetrate the thick canopy above. He crouched, scanning the ground for signs of prey. His father's lessons echoed in his mind: "Look for water nearby. Animals don't stray far from it."

He moved quietly, following a narrow game trail that led him to another stream, this one wider and flanked by dense underbrush. It was here that he saw them—fresh tracks pressed into the mud. Deer, large and recent. His heart quickened as he examined the trail. They led east, toward a thicket of dense shrubs and low-hanging branches.

Leo followed, every step calculated and quiet. The air grew heavier, the forest darker as the canopy thickened above him. He could feel the weight of the Spine pressing down, its ancient presence almost tangible. It felt as though the forest itself was watching him, waiting to see what he would do next.

He spotted movement ahead—a flash of brown through the green. Slowly, he nocked an arrow, drawing it back with practiced ease. He crept forward, his eyes locked on the figure ahead. It was a stag, its antlers massive and crowned with moss and leaves. It stood tall and proud, its ears twitching as it scanned the area for danger.

Leo froze, the bowstring taut as he steadied his aim. His heart pounded in his chest, the moment stretching endlessly. But just as he prepared to loose the arrow, the stag turned its head sharply, staring directly at him. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Leo swore he saw something intelligent in its gaze.

The stag bolted, leaping through the underbrush with an elegance that took Leo's breath away. He didn't release the arrow, lowering the bow slowly as he watched it disappear into the forest.

A sigh escaped him, a mix of frustration and awe. He'd missed his chance, but something about the encounter felt significant, as though the Spine was testing him in ways beyond his understanding.

The day wore on as he continued his hunt, moving deeper still into the wilderness. He spotted smaller game—rabbits, squirrels, and even a fox—but none of it felt worth the effort. He was searching for something bigger, something that would make this journey worthwhile.

As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest floor, Leo found himself in a part of the Spine he'd never seen before. The trees here were enormous, their trunks so wide it would take several men to encircle them. Their roots jutted out of the ground like the ribs of some ancient beast, and the air was thick with the scent of earth and moss.

Leo stopped at the base of one such tree, its bark dark and rough beneath his hand. He leaned against it, catching his breath and taking stock of his surroundings. The forest was quiet now, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze.

The Spine felt alive around him, its presence more palpable than ever. It was as if the forest was waiting, watching his every move. Leo couldn't shake the feeling that something significant lay ahead, just out of reach.

As night began to fall, he decided to set up a small camp beneath the massive tree. He gathered dry wood for a fire, striking flint against steel until a spark caught and the flames licked upward. The warmth was welcome, chasing away the chill that had settled in the air.

Leo sat by the fire, staring into the flames as his mind wandered back to the stag and the strange intelligence in its gaze. He thought of Luna's riddles and his father's lessons, wondering if they were all connected somehow.

The forest around him seemed to hum with life, the shadows shifting in the firelight. As he closed his eyes, he felt the weight of the Spine pressing down on him once more, reminding him that this was only the beginning of his journey.

The morning came slowly, the pale light of dawn filtering through the dense canopy above. Leo stirred beneath his makeshift shelter, the fire reduced to glowing embers. He stretched, shaking off the stiffness from sleeping on the forest floor, and checked his supplies. He was low on water but still had enough dried meat to last another day.

Today, he would push deeper into the Spine, determined to find game worthy of his efforts. The stag from the day before still lingered in his mind, its proud form and piercing gaze haunting his thoughts. There was something in the depths of this forest calling to him, and he couldn't ignore it.

After dousing the remaining embers of his fire, Leo gathered his things and set off. The air was cool, carrying with it the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves. The forest around him grew denser as he ventured further, the trees towering higher and their trunks thicker with age. The underbrush became more difficult to navigate, forcing Leo to carefully pick his way through the brambles and roots that threatened to trip him.

As he walked, the terrain began to change. The ground sloped upward, and the air grew thinner. The Spine was drawing him into its heart, the mountains looming ever closer. He spotted faint trails etched into the earth—signs that animals had passed through recently. His pulse quickened, the thrill of the hunt awakening his senses.

By midday, he reached a ridge that overlooked a valley nestled between two jagged peaks. The sight took his breath away. The valley was untouched, a pristine expanse of green and gold where a river snaked through the center. Herds of deer grazed along the banks, their movements graceful and unhurried.

Leo crouched, surveying the scene from his vantage point. The deer weren't the only creatures there. Among the herd, he spotted larger figures—elk, their massive antlers casting shadows on the ground. Farther up the valley, he saw a solitary boar rooting near the river's edge. It was the largest boar he'd ever seen, its tusks gleaming even from this distance.

This was it. This was the game he had been searching for.

Leo descended the ridge carefully, keeping to the shadows and moving silently. His bow was already in his hand, an arrow nocked but not drawn. Every step was deliberate, his eyes scanning for the best approach. The wind was in his favor, carrying his scent away from the animals.

As he neared the edge of the valley, he chose his target—a young elk grazing near the river, separated from the rest of the herd. It was large enough to be a challenge but not so formidable that it would be impossible to take down alone.

He positioned himself behind a cluster of bushes, steadying his breathing. The elk was about fifty meters away, its head down as it nibbled on the grass. Leo drew the bowstring back, the talon-crafted bow bending smoothly under his strength. The tension was perfect, the arrow's fletching brushing against his cheek.

He released.

The arrow flew true, cutting through the air with a faint whistle before striking the elk just behind its shoulder. The animal reared up, a pained bellow echoing through the valley as it stumbled forward. Leo was already nocking another arrow, his movements swift and practiced.

The second shot hit its mark, piercing the elk's chest and bringing it to its knees. It collapsed, its breath coming in short, labored bursts before it stilled.

Leo approached cautiously, his bow still in hand. He knelt beside the fallen elk, placing a hand on its side. "Thank you," he murmured, a quiet acknowledgment of the life he had taken.

The work of dressing the elk began quickly. He needed to finish before the scent of blood attracted predators. He worked efficiently, his knife slicing through hide and sinew with practiced ease. The meat would be invaluable, and the hide would serve as a sturdy material for clothing or trade.

As he worked, the sounds of the valley shifted. The herd had moved on, their distant calls fading into the forest. The boar he had seen earlier was nowhere in sight, and the river flowed quietly beside him.

By the time he finished, the sun was dipping low in the sky, casting the valley in shades of orange and gold. He bundled the meat and hide, securing them to a makeshift sled he fashioned from sturdy branches. The weight was considerable, but Leo felt a sense of accomplishment as he began the trek back toward the ridge.

The journey back was slow and arduous. The sled dragged heavily behind him, and the incline of the ridge tested his strength. But Leo pressed on, his determination unwavering. The Spine seemed to watch him as he climbed, the ancient forest alive with its silent presence.

As night fell, Leo found a sheltered spot beneath a rocky overhang. He set up camp, his fire crackling in the cool night air. The stars above were bright and unyielding, their light cutting through the darkness of the Spine.

Leo stared into the flames, the events of the day replaying in his mind. He felt a sense of pride in his accomplishment, but also a lingering unease. The Spine had given him what he sought, but it felt like a test—one he had barely passed.

The forest around him whispered in the night, the shadows dancing in the firelight. Leo tightened his grip on his bow, his senses alert even as fatigue threatened to overtake him. The Spine was a place of beauty and danger, and he knew he had only scratched the surface of its secrets.

Tomorrow, he would return home with his prize. But tonight, he kept watch, the weight of the wilderness pressing down on him like a silent judge.