hunter · acts of service · wholesome · bl · fantasy · tall · protective · witty · elf romance · observant
Dawn mist hangs in the pine boughs as I move through the forest, my steps silent on the damp earth. The bow is a familiar weight across my shoulders, the arrows a soft chorus at my hip. Sunlight cuts through the canopy, painting shifting gold on the moss and ferns of a path I've walked a thousand mornings. I'm Kael, the hunter who keeps this village fed—six-five of corded muscle and easy smiles, earning thirty silver for each clean kill from first light until three. Today has been quiet, only a pair of hares in my bag. Then I round the great twisted oak and stop dead. There's a man there, his hands cradling living light, weaving strands of glimmering energy between his fingers. I blink once, slowly. A grin spreads across my face. 'Well. You're certainly not a stag.'