Perseverance

The late afternoon sun bathed the town square in a warm, golden light. It was a busy scene: villagers haggled over vegetables at the market stalls, children ran around with sticks pretending to be knights, and the occasional ox cart rolled over the uneven cobblestones.

Borislav and Egor stood near the edge of the square, just outside a tavern with a wooden sign creaking in the breeze. The faint scent of roasting meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air.

Egor, with his lanky frame and unkempt dirty blonde hair, adjusted the strap of the leather satchel slung over his shoulder. His face, while not much to look at, had sharp, calculating eyes that contrasted with his otherwise forgettable appearance.

Borislav leaned against a post, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, arms crossed. His expression was grim, the weight of recent events evident in his furrowed brow.

Egor broke the silence first.

"Five men, Borislav. Five damn good hunters gone. You think the mayor even understands what that means?" His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it.

Borislav sighed, his voice gruff. "He doesn't care about what it means for us. All he sees is the meat we brought back and the equipment we lost. I told him we need replacements—badly—but you know how he is. Always hesitant to spend coin unless it benefits his own pocket."

Egor smirked, his lips curling slightly.

 "Mayor Lundy's got a habit of looking out for himself first. I'm surprised he even agreed to post the recruitment notice. Did you have to twist his arm?"

Borislav shook his head. "Not this time. He knows if the hunters fall apart, the town's screwed. No hunters, no meat. No meat, no happy townsfolk. He might be greedy, but he's not stupid."

Egor nodded, tapping his chin. "Still, the equipment's a problem. Replacing what we lost won't be cheap, and if we get fresh recruits, we'll need to outfit them too. That's a lot of coin we don't have."

Borislav's eyes narrowed as he glanced around the square, his gaze briefly settling on a group of villagers laughing near a stall.

"We'll manage. We always do. But it's going to take time. That's why I need you to keep an eye on the recruits when they come in. No dead weight. If they can't pull their own, they're out. No exceptions."

Egor grinned, a sly look crossing his face. "Speaking of recruits... I ran into that North kid earlier."

Borislav raised an eyebrow. "The one who made a fool of himself yesterday morning?"

Egor nodded, chuckling. "That's the one. I came up to him. Told him if he shows me something I haven't seen before, I'll consider it. Kid's got fire, I'll give him that."

Borislav snorted. "Fire won't keep him alive out there. He better have more than just guts if he wants a spot."

Egor shrugged. "We'll see. I've got a feeling about him, though. Might be worth keeping an eye on."

Borislav didn't respond immediately, his eyes fixed on a group of villagers unloading a cart of dried goods nearby. Finally, he said, "If he can prove himself, I won't turn him away. But don't let your gut feeling blind you, Egor. We can't afford mistakes, not this time around."

Egor's grin faded, and he nodded seriously. "I hear you. I'll keep it clean. Only the best."

Borislav straightened, his tone shifting. "There's more. The mayor wants us to make the next hunt bigger, bring in more meat. He doesn't seem to understand that losing five men doesn't make that easier."

Egor scratched his head. "Bigger hunt, fewer men, barely any equipment. Sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Exactly," Borislav muttered, his jaw tightening. "But we don't have a choice. If we come back short, it's our heads. If we don't recruit enough, same result. We're stuck between a rock and a hard place."

Egor smirked again, though there was no humor in his eyes. "Guess it's time to find out who's got the guts to step up."

Borislav nodded, pushing off the post. "Let's head back. We've got work to do. And keep that notice visible on the board. We need every able body we can get."

As the two men walked toward the bulletin board, the sounds of the square continued around them. Borislav's face was stern and his stride purposeful, while Egor's lanky form moved with an almost casual air, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd for anyone who might be a potential recruit.

…

North crouched low, hidden by a dense bush, his eyes locked onto a small bird perched on a nearby branch.

Its chirping was faint against the rustling leaves, but North barely noticed, his grip tightening around the worn handle of his slingshot. The small pouch of metal pellets hung at his side, a work of art from Old Man Rafter, clinking softly as he shifted his weight.

He pulled back the band of his slingshot, aiming carefully, and let the pellet fly. The bird darted away at the last second, the pellet missing its mark by a hair and ricocheting off the bark of a tree.

"Damn it," North muttered under his breath, lowering his slingshot and sighing. His arms were tired, and the small pile of missed shots at his feet was growing.

Leaning back against the tree, North wiped the sweat from his brow and stared at the canopy above. The sun was starting to dip lower, casting long shadows across the forest floor.

His thoughts drifted to the hunter selection.

"What am I even doing out here?" he muttered to himself, picking up a stray pellet and rolling it between his fingers.

 "Borislav and senior Egor probably think I'm a joke. Hell, most of the town probably does after what happened that morning."

The commotion North had caused, resulted in him drawing attention to himself. Since the hunters were returning it was obvious their returning would alert the rest of the nearby townsfolk and due to this, North's previous begging was spoken about by most of the townsfolks.

He paused, glancing at the slingshot in his hand.

 "But what else am I supposed to do? I can't just sit around waiting for something to change. If I don't at least try, I'll never get anywhere."

North shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.

 "Old man Rafter said hunters aren't made overnight. Yeah, no kidding. They're born with muscles like Borislav's and skills like Egor's. Me? I've got a slingshot and enough bad luck to fill a river."

He stood up, pocketing the pellet and taking a deep breath. His gaze turned to the deeper part of the forest, where the trees were thicker, and the air carried a heavier, almost foreboding atmosphere.

"But if I don't push myself, who will? No one's going to hand me a spot just because I ask nicely. If I want to be taken seriously, I have to prove I'm more than just some desperate kid with big dreams."

North picked up another pellet and loaded his slingshot. His movements were more deliberate now and his mind calmer. He scanned the trees, spotting another bird, and pulled back the band again.

"This time, no hesitation. Just focus. If I can't even hit a bird, how am I supposed to take down a beast out there?"

The pellet flew true and striked the bird cleanly. It fell with a soft thud onto the forest floor. North froze for a moment, staring at it. A sense of pride and guilt washed over him, but he quickly pushed the feeling aside.

He walked over and picked it up, holding the small creature in his hand.

"Sorry, little guy," he murmured, tucking it into his pouch. "But this is what it takes. If I can't even do this, I'll never survive out there."

North turned back toward his spot and sat down again, his fingers tracing the edge of his slingshot.

"One day, I'll look back on this and laugh. Maybe I'll even tell Borislav and Egor about how pathetic I was. Or maybe not. Probably not."

As the shadows grew longer and the forest grew quieter, North continued practicing, his determination unwavering. Each shot, whether it hit or missed, was another step toward his goal.

When the sun dipped below the horizon, North stood, slinging his pouch of pellets over his shoulder. "Tomorrow's another day. I'll get even better. I have to."

With that, he headed back toward town, the forest behind him becoming dark and still.