The Archer Chronicles

This is not a once upon a time story where everyone lives happily ever after. This is not a fairytale. Nope no fairies, witches, or goblins here. This story is the story of a boy who lives, who dares, who fights. This story is not just another story; it is his story. His story begins in the forest of Woodhill just outside of the kingdom of Bloom. Let's go see what our hero is doing now.

Flynn runs through the forest jumping over logs and dogging trees. He runs as if there is not anything in his way. He runs with his bow in his hand, and his quiver on his back. He stops short when he hears the faint sound of footsteps to his right. He spins around quickly pulling an arrow and stringing his bow. He lets the arrow fly, and he just sees the deer before it falls. He could not help but give a whoop as he runs over to the deer pulling his arrow from the dead animal's side.

"That is four to two then."

Flynn looks behind him to see John making his way towards him through the underbrush.

"You have not killed anymore since the last hour?" Flynn asks.

"You don't have to rub it in."Flynn stood up wiping the blood off his arrow. "Help me with this deer would you?"

John reaches him then staring down at the deer. "I think that is your biggest one yet."

"Do you think we can carry it back by ourselves?"

"I do not see why not. Here you take that end." John says nodding towards the deer's back feet.

Flynn grabs a hold of the deer's feet at the same instance John did. They walk stiffly but made good time and arrive just outside the town as dust begins to settle over their small village. They did not stop walking until they reached the town's small tavern.

"Do you think the butcher will take it?" John asks as they set the animal down on the dusty road.

"He always has before. You stay here, and I will go see if he is inside." Flynn says looking over his shoulder.

He pushes the doors of the tavern open with one hand, so he can use the other to shelter his eyes from the blinding sun. As he steps into the tavern the noise from inside hits him like a stampede of wild horses. His eyes make their way around the room looking for the butcher. They finally settle on a table near the bar, but it is not the butcher at the table, it is the prince. Everyone in the place was pretending as if the prince was not there, but you could tell from the sound of their voices that it was an act. He knew that John would not be pleased if he took longer than necessary, but he could not help but make his way over to the prince's table. The prince was sitting by himself holding a cup in his hand but not drinking from it. He seemed almost nervous, which was uncharacteristic for him. Flynn pulls out a chair hitting his hand on the table to get the prince's attention as he did so.

"Mind sharing that?" He asks nodding towards the prince's empty cup. Everyone in the tavern turns to stare at him since everyone knew you did not behave in such a way to the royals. The prince did not seem to mind though, he just slides his cup across the table to Flynn.

"What is the count today?" He asks.

"Four. What brings our good old prince Henry to our quaint village? Fancy some dead deer?" Flynn asks taking a big swallow from the cup.

The prince finally cracks a smile and shakes his head. "As brash as ever I see."

"Well someone has to be bold for the both of us. You were always the more skittish of the two of us."

Prince Henry stood up then, so Flynn did too. The two boys embrace each other patting the other on the back.

"It is good to see you brother." Prince Henry says.