East of River Vallorin
“C’mon, Aleron, it’s getting away.” A young male voice shouted as footsteps, loud and hasty, approached the river.
“Trust me, I’m at top speed, kid,” a thicker voice responded, gasping.
The sun was just beginning to rise in the east, stretching orange rays out in the sky. A deer hopped on a bridge over the Vallorin River and sped into the forest, changing its course just when an arrow landed on the ground behind it.
The running ceased as a young boy, barely fifteen, stopped at the edge of the bridge, bending to catch his breath as rains of sweat snaked down his face. Soon, a man in his mid-twenties walked past him, whistling in pretense of not being breathless himself.
“I thought you were going to provide breakfast today,” the man mocked, crossing the bridge
