The morning sun hung high as Leon slung the camshaft crossbow over his shoulder, grinning at Bart and Walker. "Last one to the eastern woods buys a loaf of my mother's bread!" he called, darting ahead. Isabella followed close behind, her basket slung over one arm—she'd insisted on bringing it to collect herbs, though Leon suspected she was just eager to see the crossbow in action.
They'd barely entered the forest when Walker huffed, falling a step behind. "You guys found honey last time and didn't invite me," he complained, kicking a pebble. "Said it was Bart's find, but I know you planned it all."
Bart grinned, shoving Walker playfully. "Jealous? Leon's crossbow is way cooler than honey. Let him show you—he can shoot through a tree!"
Leon rolled his eyes but didn't deny it. He stopped at a clearing, nocking an arrow and planting his foot in the crossbow's hemp loop. With a quick pull, the string snapped into place—effortless, thanks to the bronze eccentric wheels. He aimed at a birch tree ten meters away, squeezed the trigger, and the arrow buried itself deep in the trunk with a sharp "thwack."
"Whoa!" Walker yelled, rushing over to yank at the arrow. It stuck fast, and he grunted. "That's stronger than my dad's bow! How do you pull it so easy?"
"Eccentric wheels," Leon explained, though he knew Walker wouldn't understand the physics. "They make the string lighter to draw. Not all crossbows have 'em."
Bart pushed Walker aside, holding out his hands. "Let me try! Let me try!" Leon hesitated—he'd spent months making the crossbow—but relented, handing it over with a warning: "Be careful. Aim at the oak, not the birds."
Bart nodded eagerly, mimicking Leon's stance. He fired, but the arrow veered wide, hitting a bush. "Hey!" he protested. "That's not fair—you must have tricked it!"
Isabella laughed, picking berries from a nearby bush. "You just can't aim, Bart." She paused, pointing to a flash of brown in the grass. "Look! A grouse!"
Before anyone could react, Bart fired again—missed the grouse, but the arrow sailed over its head and into the underbrush. A moment later, there was a soft thud. They rushed over to find the grouse lying motionless, the arrow embedded in the ground beside it. "I hit it!" Isabella exclaimed, bending down to pick it up. "Well, sort of."
Leon grinned, pulling the arrow free. "Close enough. We'll make grouse stew with those ant mushrooms we found yesterday—Eldrin loves them."
They built a small fire in a dry hollow, plucking the grouse and tossing in sliced mushrooms, wild garlic, and a pinch of salt. The stew bubbled, filling the air with a rich, earthy scent. Leon portioned out a bowl, careful to leave the best pieces for Eldrin, and wiped his hands on his tunic. "I'll take this to him," he said. "Meet me back at the village square in an hour."
Eldrin's cottage was quiet when Leon arrived. The old man sat on his wooden bench, eyes closed, his face paler than usual. When he heard Leon's footsteps, he opened his eyes slowly, and Leon noticed his hands trembling as he reached for the bowl.
"Master," Leon said, setting the stew down. "We hunted a grouse—made it with ant mushrooms, just how you like."
Eldrin nodded, taking a spoonful. His voice was thin, almost raspy. "Good. You've gotten better at seasoning… though it's still too light." He paused, his gaze fixing on Leon. "You've been practicing the herb-tasting art, yes? The one I taught you last week?"
"Every day," Leon replied. "Tried the cow parsnip root again—smaller portion this time. No diarrhea, just a tingle."
Eldrin smiled faintly. "Good. Now listen—when testing mineral toxins, always have goat's milk handy. It binds to the poisons better than cow's milk. And for snake venom… use the white clover paste, but only if you can't get to mountain ginseng. It's a last resort." He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "Some herbs react differently when mixed with blood—never test those on yourself. Use rabbits, or mice."
Leon nodded, jotting the notes in his mind. "Why are you telling me all this now?" he asked, hesitating. "You usually teach me bit by bit."
Eldrin's eyes darkened. "Because some secrets can't wait. Tell me, Leon—do you believe in magic?"
Leon blinked. The question caught him off guard. "I… I found a book once, about wizards. But I thought it was just stories."
"Stories often hold truth," Eldrin said. He reached up, brushing a strand of white hair from his face. "I was young once—foolish, eager to find something more than herbs and hunting. I traveled with a group, looking for ancient ruins. We found one, deep in the Whispering Forest. A chamber with walls that glowed. Then… a white light. When I woke, my friends were gone. And no one remembered my name. Not a single soul."
Leon's mouth went dry. "How is that possible?"
"Magic," Eldrin whispered. "The only explanation. But don't chase it, Leon. It's unpredictable, dangerous. Focus on your herbs, your books—things you can control."
"Did you ever find your name?" Leon asked, leaning closer.
Eldrin shook his head, his gaze drifting to the forest. "Some secrets are meant to stay buried. When you're old enough… maybe you'll understand. For now, go. Your friends are waiting."
Leon lingered, wanting to ask more, but Eldrin had closed his eyes, his breathing shallow. Reluctantly, he picked up the empty bowl and left, the old man's words echoing in his ears.