Orion

Orion, named after the great hunter’s constellation, was born in the Southern Icefield. From birth, he was taught by his father the tactics of magic. As time went on, Orion’s father noticed that his son wasn’t going anywhere. The tradition of magic was one passed down each generation, and Orion wasn’t going to be an exception. He was trained each day, and worked ridiculously hard. Yet, it still seemed as though Orion could not get any better. So, he ran away, with the knot in his stomach telling him that he wasn’t as good as the rest. He hardly could use magic at all. Through meticulous eavesdropping, he picked up little snippets of conversation by other dragons, whispering about Zeus, Athena, and Aphrodite. These familiar words puzzled him. His family had worshipped the mighty Icewarden for centuries, but somehow, it seemed as though a specific name kept calling to him. Artemis. After asking around small, rural clans, he met a sage-like tundra. The wise elder invited Orion to remain, and though he was reluctant, Orion decided to stay with the old dragon. The name of the sage was never spoken; he simply went by ‘preacher.’ Preacher told Orion that not having magic wasn’t a bad thing.
“Everyone has their specialties,” the raspy voice said, “and though you may have been born into a magical family, that does not mean that you yourself have to mainly use magic.”
After months of teaching Orion the history of the Titans and Olympians, Preacher gave Orion a beautifully carved bow. The string was made out of fair braids of Mith hair, and the wooden frame out of a dark spruce. Then the Preacher took Orion outside, and waited. A shuffle of snow revealed a white rodent. Preacher told Orion to shoot at the rabbit in the eye. At first, Orion was puzzled. He had never handled a bow, how could the silly tundra believe that the arrow would even penetrate the poor rabbit’s skin, let alone the small, insignificant eye? Alas, the sage persisted in the job. The unskilled bowman took an arrow from the leather quiver, and pulled the string tightly. As the rabbit scurried about, Orion took a few shallow breaths. It was cold outside. Too cold to concentrate. As soon as the Pearlcatcher was going to take a shot of faith, he felt a fuzzy cape slide onto his back.
“Make as many adjustments as you need to focus. There is no rush. The worst scenario is that the rabbit pops back into his burrow.”
Orion took the hood of his cape, and slid it to where it nearly covered his eyes. The tundra questioned this, but did not speak. The slick arrow was pulled backward, and Orion was completely relaxed, but it was hard to keep up with the rabbit’s gait. It was hopping to the left and to the right, and as Orion pointed the bow towards his target, the rabbit bounced right out of range. It grew tiresome. The tundra said once again, this time with a slight strain in his voice.
“There is no rush, yet the sun does not stay up forever. Think. Is there any possible way that you could make this easier for you?”
This time, Orion got it. A tremble of ice took the white animal’s paws and froze them to the ground. The string was once again pulled back, and after a few seconds, jolted forward. A squeal brought the rabbit’s body to the ground in an awkward position, since the ice was not melting from the poor rodent’s feet.
As Preacher and Orion inspected it, they had similar views about what happened. The rabbit’s eye was clearly visible, but a few inches towards his head was a bloodied arrow. Orion did not like the sight, but was at the same time excited that he had gotten so close to the eye. Preacher was impressed.
As the days went on, Orion was homesick. He wanted to travel back to his family, and felt that leaving them was cruel, not only to his worried parents, but to himself as well. At the same time, he did not want to leave his new friend. Orion decided that he would go seek his parents out again, and waved goodbye to Preacher. Orion promised to visit often, and that was a promise that he kept. As Orion was finding his way back to his clan, he could not pay for the food that he desperately needed. His pocket change was soon reduced to nothing, and the only items on him were his cloak that the elder gave, and the bow. A few arrows remained in his quiver. Orion made the best of these arrows, reusing them, even if they were as red as an apple. Orion soon found his family again, and was welcomed, but not before he was scolded for leaving in the first place. His parents’ clan had searched all of the Icewarden’s realm to try and find Orion, and was unhappy about all the pain and tears that Orion’s departure had brought. He was with his family for a short while longer, before he left again. Flyers for Trickmurk Circus had gotten the attention of Orion. It was one thing specifically: Archery takes place on the 27th, in the Obscured Crescent. The Pearlcatcher, with his newfound skills, wanted to join. He couldn’t, though. The Tangled Wood was too far away, and Orion did not believe in the power of the dragon deity’s anymore. He had converted to a different religion, based on the scrolls of the early kin, the people who died in the bright light. Orion had grown close to the stories of the great huntress Artemis. Orion left so that he could return to his old friend, Preacher, and learn more about the goddess. She was a wonder to Orion.
The days went by, and each day, the elder seemed to become tired, restless, and sadder. His thick gray fluff turned into thin white strands quickly. Both of them could tell what was coming. During the horrendous days, Orion shot his bow and fed the sickly tundra. As he ate, the tundra paused and asked Orion a question.
“Do you truly believe in the Gods? Not our dragon deities, but the ones from the scrolls?”
“Of course, Preacher. Time has gone by, and those scrolls have remained. One must suspect that they were saved for a reason.”
The following night, the tundra died in his sleep.
The elder had left all of his things to Orion, and left a quick note, for he knew his time was coming to an end.
I am proud. You have shown great devotion to the true gods of the realm. You seem to be drawn to one in particular, and I have some advice if you want to continue your worshipping. Go to the last island to the north of the Southern Icefield. Any non-dragon you see along the way, shoot with a single arrow. Shoot everything but dragon kind. Once you have laid in the last isle, be it small or vast, lay down the bow, and say that it has served you well. Leave, then, and do not return to retrieve your bow.
Orion had many questions about this note, but decided not to ponder about it. Seeing as the tundra had helped him through many things, Orion decided to follow the note. Each animal he saw, he shot at. Some dragons were upset that their companions had gone missing. Orion decided not to eat during the whole journey, for he felt regret for what he had done, and lost his appetite. Every arrow he shot pierced through the skull of each animal, and the animal went to rest. Soon, the edge of the Southern Icefield was seen, and Orion travelled to the last icepack he could stand on. Right before he was going to give up his bow, he noticed a small, white sliver of ice. It was too small to stand on, but large enough to put his bow. Orion flew over there, departed with his bow, and waited. Nothing happened. Orion felt like a fool, and flew back to his abode. Weeks later, a knock was at his door. The dark bow was laid in front of his feet. A shuffle of snow revealed a gorgeous brown dragon. She was changing from a Wildclaw, to a Guardian, to a Mirror. She finally settled on the image of a Skydancer. It was silent for a moment, and then the dragon spoke.
“You left this by my old home. I felt like I should return it, despite your abandoning it intentionally.”
Feeling bewildered by her change in appearance, Orion hardly moved. The Skydancer spoke again.
“You feel confused, don’t you? Well, let us try to make this quick. My lovely birds- “ she nodded towards a brown hawk chasing an owl, “-have told me that you were stealing their food. You shot all game, whether it was a small rodent, or a large hooved mammal. Do you find hunting fun?”
Orion still hesitated, unable to find any words. Finally, he spoke in a shallow voice.
“I do, and excuse my inquiring, but who are you?”
“I am Anne-Michele, and I passed ‘way a long time ago.” She smiled happily, as though that was a joke. “My god, Artemis, wanted me to return this to you. She can’t come down here herself, you know. It’s too dangerous, even if she is immortal. Artemis said that you had very good hunting skills, and that you took care of one of her most devoted priests. He rests in honor. She wants you to have your bow back, and to continue hunting. Along the way of leaving your bow, you spread the knowledge of the gods and goddesses. Though you may not have realized it, many dragons right now are wondering about the remarks you made. Who knows, maybe they will become a devoted follower of the Olympians.” She paused for a second before continuing. “Artemis is proud of you. Since you lost your arrows, she wanted me to give you this.”
Anne-Michele took the quiver on her back and handed it to Orion. It was filled with sleek black arrows whose heads seemed as if the opponent was shot, even in the leg, that they would receive immediate death. The feathers were from a slick black raven, and the base was of the same material as the bow.
“You haven’t done anything wonderful…yet…but you certainly have been notable to Artemis. The gods only know what will happen to you. Zeus let it be good.” The Skydancer smiled, and turned into snow. Orion was left with the enchantment of the visitor.
Orion has always been perplexed by his past, specifically by that one moment. He continues to spread the religion of the Olympians, and hunts each day. The affection of Artemis is given to very few, Orion hears, and though he may not ever be put in the stars like the original Orion, he certainly will not be forgotten by the followers of the goddess of the hunt.

By Lola3227.