The First Weight That Stayed

The First Weight That Stayed

Several weeks passed after Zio returned from the city.

Morning still came as it always had. The dirt road remained cold beneath the soles of his feet. Zio woke earlier than before.

The forge still stood where it always had. The forest behind the village remained just as quiet.

He followed the narrow trail toward the edge of the forest.

The damp earth welcomed each step. The path ahead gradually sloped downward, and his knees lowered with it.

A few steps later, the ground leveled out again. Thick roots broke through the surface of the earth.

One step to the side. His shoulders turned slightly. Then straightened again. The rope around his waist remained firmly in place.

Zio stopped. His body became perfectly still. His eyes swept across the surrounding trees. A gentle breeze drifted through the forest.

A moment later, he continued walking.

A thin layer of sweat gathered at his temples. He tightened the cloth wrapped around his wrist before continuing on.

Not long afterward, a series of shallow tracks appeared in the soft earth beside a narrow stream.

Zio crouched. Two fingers brushed the ground. He stood again.

The tracks remained on his left. His footsteps followed alongside them. The wind returned, stirring the leaves overhead.

Zio slowed his pace. The tracks stretched farther ahead. Then the distance between each hoofprint gradually widened.

The ground ahead became firmer. Dry leaves still covered its surface, with no fresh marks cutting through them.

Zio stopped once more. He tilted his head slightly. Then turned around.

Each step landed precisely on his own footprints. Near a bend in the stream, several blades of grass lay bent in the same direction.

Beyond the damp undergrowth, another trail veered deeper into the forest. Zio followed it.

Not long afterward, a deer emerged from between the trees.Its head remained lowered. Its ears twitched from time to time.

Zio lowered his body. His bow was already in his hand. His chest rose slowly. Then fell.

The deer took a single step.

Zio shifted to the left.

The leaves before the deer still swayed gently. Just as the deer began to turn—

The bowstring was already drawn.

The arrow flew.

The deer's body jolted.

Its front legs faltered, and part of its body sank onto the damp ground. As it struggled to stand again, Zio was already in front of it.

His right hand rose, a dagger held in his grip. With one swift motion, he ended the deer's struggle.

A few drops of blood stained the ground. The deer's body trembled once before finally becoming still.

The leaves that had been swaying gradually settled once more.

Zio crouched beside it. He pulled the arrow free in a single motion. The dagger in his hand moved with practiced precision as he began preparing the carcass.

From time to time, he shifted the deer across the damp ground.

The blade continued tracing along the hide with steady, practiced movements.

***

Just as he was about to finish the final cut, Zio's hand came to a stop.

He lowered his head for a brief moment. His eyes widened. He immediately straightened.

A tiger emerged from behind a cluster of tall bushes.

Zio remained where he was. His footing stayed firm. The dagger remained in his hand.

He glanced briefly at the deer's body beneath his feet before fixing his eyes on the tiger once more.

The tiger opened its mouth. It didn't let out a full roar, but the low growl carried through the silent forest.

The tiger advanced.

Slowly.

Its body lowered.

Then it lunged toward the deer lying on the ground.

Zio sprang aside and rolled away.

The tiger landed over the deer's body. Its eyes remained fixed on Zio.

Zio rose to his feet. Then he slowly backed away, one step at a time, until he disappeared behind a nearby tree.

The tiger stayed where it was. Its gaze never left him.

Zio crouched behind the tree. His breathing had grown noticeably faster. He carefully peeked around the trunk.

The tiger had begun feeding on the deer.

Zio raised his bow.

His eyes narrowed.

The arrow flew.

The tiger jerked its head up with a pained growl. It stumbled backward, its body twisting in pain.

Zio immediately climbed the tree beside him.

One of the tiger's eyes was tightly shut. Blood trickled around the arrow lodged near it.

Zio took a steady breath before drawing his bow once more.

A second arrow flew.

The tiger let out a louder roar as the arrow struck its shoulder. It rolled across the ground, slamming its body against a nearby tree. One of the arrows came loose.

Moments later, the tiger disappeared into the dense undergrowth.

Zio remained seated on the tree branch, leaning his back against the trunk.

One hand rested against his chest as it rose and fell rapidly. He slowly steadied his breathing.

The tiger's growls gradually faded. The forest fell silent once again.

***

A few moments later, Zio climbed down from the tree. As soon as both feet touched the ground, he walked back to the deer's carcass lying beneath the bushes.

He tied its legs together with a length of rope before hoisting it onto his shoulder. The weight made him lean slightly to one side, but his footing remained steady.

Zio began the journey back to Greyhollow. The forest floor no longer slowed him down. Even so, from time to time, a hand drifted to his chest.

As he drew closer to the village, the trees gradually began to thin. The ground beneath his feet grew firmer. The grass became shorter, and overlapping footprints formed a well-worn path.

Carried by the breeze, the familiar scent of burning wood slowly filled the air.

Before long, rows of wooden houses came into view. Thin trails of smoke rose from the low chimneys, followed by the distant sound of laughter drifting through the village.

Two men carrying sacks of grain crossed paths with him. One of them glanced at the deer slung over Zio's shoulder.

"Heh," he muttered, nudging his companion with an elbow.

Zio simply returned a small nod without slowing his pace.

At the roadside, a young child who had been playing suddenly fell silent. His eyes followed the deer's carcass for a moment before his older sibling gently pulled him away.

Near the village well, an elderly woman was drawing water. Her wooden bucket tapped softly against the stone wall.

She looked up as Zio passed by.

"You're back early."

"Yeah."

A faint smile appeared on the old woman's face.

"The forest has been kind to you today."

Zio said nothing. He simply kept walking.

***

When Zio arrived at the workshop yard, Martha was already waiting for him. The moment she saw him, her eyes swept over him from head to toe, making sure he hadn't been injured.

"You're not hurt?"

"No, Aunt."

Martha gave a small nod.

"If you ever run into prey you can't handle, don't force yourself."

She paused for a moment before continuing.

"Not every hunter has to come home with a catch. What's important... is that you come home."

Zio gave a brief nod.

Martha continued looking at him for a few moments. Once she was satisfied, she lifted the clean cloth she had been holding and gently wiped the dirt and sweat from his face.

Not long afterward, Trod stepped out of the workshop. His eyes immediately fell on the deer's carcass still resting across Zio's shoulder.

"Put it over there."

He pointed to a large wooden table in the yard.

"I'll take care of the rest. Go get some rest."

Zio walked over to the table. He lowered the deer from his shoulder, then set his bow and quiver beside it.

Martha turned toward him.

"Go wash up first, Zio. I'll bring you something to drink afterward."

Zio nodded once more before heading toward the well.

Meanwhile, Trod stood before the deer's carcass. His gaze settled on the bite marks along its body. A moment later, his eyes shifted to Zio's quiver lying on the table.

His brow furrowed slightly.

But he said nothing.

Slowly, the sky began to glow with the colors of dusk. The villagers' laughter still drifted through the air. One by one, the doors of the wooden houses closed, while thin streams of smoke continued to rise from their chimneys into the evening sky.

The day passed like any other. Without celebration.

Without anyone realizing that something had already begun to change.