Woosh!
An arrow flew past Teun's ear so closely that he felt the wind from its passage. Years of training took over before conscious thought could catch up, and he threw himself behind a nearby tree. The arrow buried itself into the soil a few meters away before the rubber tip caused it to bounce and fall over. Teun stared at it for a moment before a wry smile appeared on his face.
"Well, it seems the kid has quite the temper."
The shot had not been intended to hit him. At least, Teun hoped it hadn't. More importantly, the attack had given him information. Arin had finally revealed his position, even if only for a moment. Teun quickly signaled a direction to his brother before carefully peeking around the tree again.
Dennis received the signal immediately and frowned. Knowing where Arin had fired from was useful, but actually spotting him was another matter entirely. He slowly scanned the pine forest before him, his eyes moving from tree to tree. Hundreds of trunks filled his vision, stretching upward into a sea of branches and needles. Somewhere among them sat his nephew.
The problem was that Arin was probably sitting exactly where Dennis would sit.
At the top of a tree.
Waiting.
Watching.
Ready to punish the first person foolish enough to expose themselves.
That realization made Dennis grimace. Everyone participating in the game knew just how difficult it was to find a skilled family member hiding in woodland terrain. Other environments were manageable. Urban areas, fields, and even mountains all offered ways to locate someone eventually.
The forest was different.
Their ancestors had spent generations refining their skills in these woods. They had learned how to move through shadows, how to blend into foliage, and how to break line of sight without leaving obvious traces. Many of those techniques had been passed down through stories, training exercises, and family traditions. Finding one of their own in the forest was considered nearly impossible.
That was why most family games ended the same way.
Someone made a mistake.
Not because they were discovered.
Not because they were outmatched.
Simply because nobody could remain perfect forever.
The only reason Arin could attack at all was because he could still follow his targets with his enhanced eyesight. Archer's Eye allowed him to maintain visual contact where others might lose it. The moment that line of sight disappeared, however, everything changed. The hunters became ghosts once again.
Dennis understood that better than most.
Which was why he nearly cursed when a flat rubber arrowhead suddenly appeared in front of his face. The impact struck his chest before he could react, forcing the air from his lungs. His body instinctively recoiled while the arrow bounced harmlessly away. By the time he recovered, Teun was already gone.
"Well, that's one down."
High above the forest, Arin watched the result with satisfaction. The moment his arrow landed, he began moving. Revealing his position was a necessary risk, but remaining there afterward would have been stupidity. Every hunter in this forest knew approximately how far a bow could reliably shoot under these conditions.
That meant they could estimate his location.
Not perfectly.
But close enough.
The older generation had refined these skills for decades. Tracking distances, reading terrain, and predicting movement had become second nature to them. Many of their reactions happened entirely through instinct. If someone woke them in the middle of the night and dropped them into a training course, they could probably navigate it without fully waking up.
The problem was that instinct alone wasn't enough.
Not when hunting family.
When facing outsiders, trusting experience usually worked. Against someone who had learned the same lessons, conscious thought became essential. They had to decide when to move, when to hide, and when to reveal themselves. Otherwise they would simply walk predictable paths and become easy targets.
That was why Arin knew they would never assume he remained in the same tree.
Not because they underestimated him.
Because they knew him too well.
If he stayed put and allowed them to walk past, he would technically survive. Unfortunately, the family would never let him forget such an obvious mistake. The punishment for relying on a predictable hiding spot would be severe enough on its own. Worse, the women of the clan would probably help enforce it.
Just imagining that made him shiver.
His feet touched the forest floor moments later. Descending from the canopy was unusual for him, but necessary. Staying in one place after being spotted violated nearly every lesson their family taught. Their history was filled with examples of what happened to people who remained stationary after being discovered.
The lesson was always the same.
Move.
Immediately.
Long ago, their ancestors had served kings, lords, and nobles. During wartime, those rulers had been more than willing to sacrifice a hundred soldiers to kill a single dangerous scout or archer. The rewards promised for success were often enormous. Most of the soldiers never lived long enough to collect them.
The message remained relevant centuries later.
If the enemy knows where you are, move.
If they think they know where you are, move.
If there is even a chance they know where you are, move.
Arin had heard that lesson since childhood.
Now he followed it instinctively.
He jogged through the forest at a carefully controlled pace. Not too fast and not too slow. Their family had discovered long ago that certain speeds were surprisingly difficult for the human eye to track. Sudden movement attracted attention. Extreme speed attracted attention. Consistent, moderate movement often slipped through unnoticed.
Especially in forests.
The shifting shadows created by pine branches helped immensely. Sunlight filtered through the canopy and painted the ground in constantly moving patterns. Arin moved with those patterns rather than against them. To an observer, he became little more than another flicker of motion among hundreds of others.
It looked boring.
That was the point.
Humans noticed excitement.
They noticed danger.
They noticed sudden changes.
What they often failed to notice was something that blended naturally into the background. Arin had spent years perfecting that concept. Right now, he looked less like a target and more like an illusion drifting through the woods.
All around the forest, similar figures moved through the shadows.
The older generation employed the same principles. Nobody sprinted unless necessary. Nobody rushed blindly through the terrain. Every participant moved with deliberate patience while searching for opportunities. The hunt had entered its most dangerous stage.
Then an arrow flew past Arin's shoulder.
His grin appeared instantly.
There was no panic.
No hesitation.
Only action.
He planted a foot against a nearby tree and launched himself sideways. His body twisted through the air while his bow came up in one smooth motion. Before he even landed, an arrow left the string and vanished toward the location he believed the attack had originated from.
Then he hit the ground running.
No pause.
No confirmation.
No second glance.
Arin simply continued jogging as though nothing had happened.
A few hundred meters away, Rik stared at the tree beside him.
An arrow protruded from the trunk exactly where his head had been moments earlier. The impact still vibrated through the wood. For several seconds, he simply stared at it before shaking his head with disbelief.
"Damn."
The boy had improved.
There was no denying it anymore.
Rik had only caught a brief glimpse of movement. A blur of color had shifted through the shadows before immediately disappearing again. Yet within that tiny window, Arin had managed to identify the approximate source of the attack and return fire with frightening accuracy.
Most archers would have missed completely.
Arin had nearly hit him.
"He's gotten better," Rik admitted quietly.
Still, he wasn't worried.
Arin might fool most people.
He might even fool Rik.
Unfortunately for the young archer, there was one person in the forest who knew him better than anyone else. Someone who had watched him grow up, trained him personally, and spent years observing how he thought.
Rik smiled as he glanced toward the direction Arin was running.
The boy believed he had escaped cleanly.
In reality, he was moving exactly where another hunter wanted him to go.
Straight into his father's waiting embrace.