I was up before daybreak the next morning. Not an unusual thing, most farmers were. I’d been doing it my entire life. That didn’t mean that I wasn’t immune to the exhaustion that permeated my body from my late night escapade. My arms felt heavy and I struggled to keep my eyes open as I moved around the soil, pulling weeds away from the thin shoots of barley that were beginning to pop out of the ground.

Despite how much I wished to be back in bed, however, I was glad to be up because it meant I could watch the sun rise. As much as I choked on the boredom of farming, I always looked forward to the mornings because of the sunrise.

Once or twice, when I’d still been in school, a few of my classmates had turned their noses up at the very idea getting up before there was even a small bit of light on the horizon. They’d looked at me like it was some great task to be up that early in the morning. The sentiment almost always came before the emphatic declaration that they could never do something of the like themselves.

A shame in all honesty. They’d never seen the way dawn threaded its way across the land. They’d never watched the hues of soft pink, orange, and light purple rose from the back of the forest as the sun came up behind the trees. For all their talk of following the gods’ plans and all that, none of them had thought to put for the effort to experience one of the most beautiful things they’d created. Sealdír, our patron god of the sun and civilization, probably wept at the reality.

I rocked back on my heels, pushing my braid back over my shoulder with the heel of my hand. Father was weeding some far portion of the farm, far from the best view of the sunrise. When I’d been a little girl, we’d worked together to weed the same patch by the road just to watch the sun rise together. The place we’d agreed was the best vantage point. That had been a very long time ago though. Father and I hadn’t watched the sunrise together a long time. A very long time.

So long in fact that I couldn’t remember.

Not long from now, the sun would beat down and the heat would be completely draining. I looked over the expanse of farm I was supposed to be finished weeding by midday. Several more meters still stood before me and any sort of break. By the time lunch hit, I had this sinking feeling that I was going to be drop dead tired. Afterwards, there would be just as big of a plot waiting for me to weed.

Part of me debated on whether or not I should just dig a hole and bury myself in it. Father probably wouldn’t notice until after he’d finished eating, by then I would’ve become one with the dirt and soil. He’d might even be proud and see it as me taking farming seriously as I was providing nutrients for the barley. And at least I’d be cool and protected from the sun. That was for sure. I dug my fingers into the soil, making mounds underneath my already caked nails, and sighed before smoothing the earth back out.

Maybe it won’t take me so long to finish weeding… I thought wistfully as I went back to plucking wayward clover and thistles from the shoots of barley.

It was never incredibly quiet in the morning this early when the sun was barely above the treeline of the forest. Especially in this spot by the road. It cut through the Edirk Forest and bisected our family land. It ran as straight as a forest road could to the Great Bridawth river about twenty or so kilometers away. Usually, hunters travelled it to take a quicker approach into the forest where they’d be hunting for the day. I hadn’t seen any hunters coming or going the last few days however, which was slightly strange now that I actually thought about it. While I didn’t necessarily miss the passerbys, it made my work feel very solitary. At least the birds were singing in the trees today. And my work steadily brought me closer to the outskirts of it. That was something to be appreciated.

Snap!

The silence broke as a twig snapped in half under foot. I jerked to attention, hands still planted in the soil from the sudden surprise. My breath caught in my throat.

Standing a few meters away from me, just outside the first line of forest trees, was the largest stag I’d ever laid eyes on. It easily rivaled the size of one of the fine riding horses Clive and his father kept in their stables. The stag’s antlers held twelve points and would’ve made any of the town’s hunters weep on sight. His tawny coat shone in the early morning sun like a newly minted copper coin.

I rose to my feet slowly, spellbound in wonder. The small child in the back of my mind really wanted to see how close I could get to the stag before it bolted back off into the forest. I wanted to run my fingers through his fur and see if it was actually as soft as it looked.

Whereas the more rational side of my brain made me stand stalk still. Of course it would run away if I moved towards it. An animal didn’t live to be that side without a hefty dose of caution.

So we stood there, watching one another and not moving.

“Dílis!”

The stag’s head turned at the sound of the voice. From out of the trees stepped a tall man. He placed his hand on the stag’s back, threading his fingers through it’s fur. A longbow and quiver were strapped to his back. A hunter maybe? I’d never seen this one though. And usually the local hunters used short bows. He had to be from out of town then. It wasn’t too far of a stretch. The Edirk Forest spanned for kilometers Northwards as well as East and Westwards. It was full of venison, rabbit, wild turkey, and boar that was always in high demand. Hunters frequently brought their spoils to Woodhearst to be sold or butchered. Maybe this hunter was doing the same then?

That’s when I noticed the pointed ears peeking through his long, ash brown hair. His face was sharp, angular, and breath taking. Not a human man. An elf. An elf in Woodhearst…

The nearest elfin city, Ryha Alari, lay far South of here by several dozen leagues. The only reason I could think of for his presence was that he was heading to Baron Harwood’s estate proper. This elfin man was no mere hunter. He couldn’t be because that didn’t make any sense.

The elfin man murmured something in the stag’s ear before turning to look at me. “I’m looking for Mayor Terrin’s home. Which way do I travel to get there?”

For a moment, I didn’t say anything. Half expecting someone else to answer. Then I quickly remembered that no one else was around. Of course he was speaking to me. I rushed to answer and fell wonderfully flat on my proverbial face. “Umm…”

To his credit the elfin man waited patiently for me to gather my wits, head turned to the side with dark green eyes watching intently. I pointed over my shoulder. “That way, in the center of town. It’s big. Really can’t miss it.”

The elf nodded before leaping deftly on to the stag’s back. He touched his heels to its side and urged him forward into an easy walk. As he passed me, he looked down and said, “My thanks to you.”

Hanging off the side of his bag was a chain with several pendants, one of which was a medallion pressed with an arrow through a crown. A symbol I recognized from my school days.

“You’re a King’s Ranger!” I gasped.

The elf looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. “Indeed I am.”

The King’s Rangers were quite literally that. They were commissioned by King Theodorik to hunt, track, and kill all manner of dangerous beast. Some travelled as far as the Northern border where our country or Miriah met the tumultuous and dangerous edges of the Zedrayae Empire. Many were said to even channel magic! Rangers were highly skilled and equally respected. Bards composed songs and stories about their deeds and adventures. A ranger lived an incredibly dangerous life… and an exciting one.

“What’s a ranger doing in Woodhearst? Surely there are more interesting things to be doing other than wandering around every farm town this side of the Harwood barony.”

I followed him a handful of steps off to the side. His stag looked over at me with an intelligence most other animals didn’t have. I gave it a few more steps worth of space. “You don’t need to worry about that little one. I’m sure you have more important things to look after anyways.”

He didn’t give me time to respond. He nodded once more before setting his heels to the stag’s side. It took off at an easy trot, leaving me behind in the dust.

I watched the elfin ranger and his mount disappear over the hill and into town. What business did a King’s Ranger have here?

I dropped to my knees again. A lot of field still needed weeding before midday. After last night’s incident at the mayoral manse, something told me that Father wouldn’t look kindly on me falling behind in my chores. Pulling weeds happened to be a mindless task though and it allowed my mind to wander over possibilities great and small.

A ranger in Woodhearst. I don’t think anything as interesting as that had ever happened to our little town. Rangers were hired and, though I didn’t know the price that their services cost, I did know it had to be rather hefty. The question remained. What had this ranger been hired to hunt so close to Woodhearst?

Wind blew through the leaves of the forest trees. It caught my eye and pulled my gaze up towards it.

“Erickson found traces of some kind of… some kind of beast in them not far from his land. Whatever it was, it’s tracks are twice the size of a bear.”

Father’s warning from the night before hit me fast and hit me hard. Something lurked in the forest. Something dangerous. Possibly dangerous enough to warrant a King’s Ranger’s assistance?

Whatever it was though, things were going to get interesting in Woodhearst. How could it not? With a ranger in town it was a guarantee.

Rangers were much more exciting than watching barley grow after all. Being a ranger would be much more exciting than being a farmer.

And I had a feeling that no one told a ranger that they didn’t belong at an inner circle party.

Or that stuck up mayors’ sons had the guts to tell a ranger that they were somehow better than them.