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Atreus breathes in and out deeply as he pulls his bowstring taut, aiming down the shaft of the bow with his complete focus. He keeps it locked onto the large stag’s neck, right where it would be killed instantly once it pierced its fur and flesh. He’s been tracking this stag since he’d first started hunting hours ago, reassuring Father that he wouldn’t leave the protective stave to go off on his own.
Father had been nervous about letting him go off on his own at first, before agreeing to wait back at their cabin. “If you are not home by the end of the day, I will come find you,” his father had promised.
With that promise in mind, Atreus had taken it to heart. He always takes any chance to prove to his father that he can handle himself, and this is no different.
The stag’s head flies back suddenly, eyes darting directly onto his face from his hiding spot. Atreus stares back with shock at its awareness, confused as to why it had suddenly sensed him. He releases the arrow, trying to hit it before it can run, but he’d missed his chance and it takes off sprinting. He curses under his breath and quickly follows it, not noticing how he passes the edge of the protective stave, too focused on his prey.
He loses sight of it not long after and curses again, louder this time. He calms himself and searches for its tracks, following them all over again. He’s not going to lose his quarry.
After tracking it for sometime, he steps into a small clearing, snow reflecting sunlight nearly blindingly. When his eyes finally adjust, he sees the stag he’d been hunting; it’s dead, someone else’s arrow stuck deep between two of its ribs. His eyes widen, and he quickly looks around, preparing to fight. But before he can get an arrow nocked, someone crashes into his back. He shouts with fear as he’s pushed face first into the snow covered ground, skin freezing instantaneously.
The person pinning him is much larger than him, probably around the same size as his father. Despite this, he struggles to get away or get a kick against their stomach or something but ultimately fails. Their weight is too great for his strength. He hears his captor laugh above him, their thick fingers pressing painfully into the back of his neck and shoulder blade. He’s pretty sure he’s going to have bruises from the grip.
“Lookie here boys, two for one,” says an ugly voice above him. He assumes it belongs to the person currently holding him down, and grits his teeth with frustration. Father would be angry with him right now if he saw him like this; his guard had been down and this is what happens. “These’ll keep us fed for weeks!”
Atreus’s stomach somersaults. More cannibals. He swallows heavily, squirming once more as he hears footsteps approaching him and his captor. This is a large group. Great.
“He’s a tad skinny, ain’t he, Jon?” another voice asks. Her tone is scratchy, like she’s gargling on wet metal. “He’ll barely feed any of us.” He winces when his face is poked with a stick, and he snarls like an animal. “Woah, think he may have rabies.”
“Food is food,” Jon says pointedly. He begins to shift, and Atreus tries to take his chance to escape, but one of the giant hands grabs him roughly by the face. He yelps with pain as those fingers mercilessly drag across his cheeks, nose and eyes, the nails leaving angry red trails in their wake. He’s lifted unceremoniously for the others to see, but he can hardly see them through blurred vision. “Sides, he’s got some meat on his own bones.”
Atreus hisses, “You’d better let me go.” He hopes he sounds braver than he feels, because he’s terrified right now.
“Oh? And how come, boy?” Jon asks, snickering. “You gonna nip our heels?”
He snorts, laughing with a rasping breath. “No… My father won’t be happy if you don’t,” he says. “And you don’t want my father angry.”
“Right,” the woman from before says. “As if your daddy could take all six of us at once.”
“And then some,” Atreus says with a grin. He tastes blood on his tongue.
For his troubles, the woman slaps him cross the face. He presses his lips together and gulps down a mixture of his blood and saliva, before his ears perk at the sound of a familiar set of footsteps. His grin returns, and he prepares himself for his father’s attack to the best of his ability. “Have fun,” he says, just as the Leviathan Axe comes out of nowhere and buries itself in the lady’s mud caked face. She falls backwards, dead.
The rest of the group all scramble to search for their attacker, including Jon, who tightens his grip on Atreus’s neck. He gasps for air, but is still able to see his father burst from the trees to attack and kill Atreus’s captors.
Father pretty quickly kills all but Jon. He turns on the man holding Atreus captive, his eyes lit with red hot fury. Jon presses a knife shakily to Atreus’s throat, as if that will do anything but piss Father off even further.
“Release him. Now,” Father growls. Jon doesn’t. Father grows angrier.
Okay, Atreus has had enough of this. He chomps down on Jon’s fingers, prompting the guy to drop him with a yelp. This allows Father to rush forward, grabbing the man by the throat before snapping his neck in half.
Atreus pants, trying to catch his breath. Father is at his side instantly, a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you alright?” he asks, both his voice and expression full of concern. Atreus nods shakily, and his father lets out a breath of relief. “Good. Let us go home.”
Nodding in agreement, Atreus pushes to his feet shakily, not even protesting when his father grabs the deer to drag home. He could carry the next stag home, when he doesn’t feel as if he’s about to pass out.