Firefly Glen in my heart i have but one desire

hunter thread maybe?

lómion never came here alone. not with a conscious mind. but today, in morning’s early light, the boy was completely present. he saw all, felt all, smelled all. 
he crept through the glen, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for a pretty red pelt.

a boy.

he wore the scents of the group bartholomew had scented to the north of the glen. he wonders and thinks that they must feel confident enough in their grasp here to let their little sheep wander.

lucky for them it was a kind man who found the boy trailing.

bartholomew remained wordless, much like the child, and crept alongside his trail from a distance. a warm sound bubbled in his throat. no need to spook him too much.

too focused was he on the creature he sought. he did not see the man until he’d made noise. lómion was ripped from his state of pure concentration. he stopped abruptly and slowly turned his head away from his unmarked path. his eyes fell upon the stranger. 
he was not a wolf. it sparked a need not unfamiliar to him. to run. to chase. just as he’d chased the goat in the valley. but it soon fizzled into a dull glow within his chest, for this man was no goat, nor elk, nor crow.
he was not a wolf. he was greater than that, greater than him. prettier than him.
pretty, just as the creature he searched for.

he was no mind reader. God had not bestowed such a gift upon him.

regardless he saw the boy look upon him. no teeth met him, no mother crashed in to chase him.

this sheep had wandered away from his flock.

what path do you follow, boy?

he allowed the child to take it as literal or metaphorical as he wished. for the answer would reveal to bartholomew what kind of children these wolves raised.

what - what path? he parroted with a faraway, feather light voice. he blinked, shook his head, until he eventually pulled himself away from his thoughts. somewhat.
well.. i am hunting for something. something small and red.  and when he catches it? lómion did not think so far ahead.
to bring to my ajâtsuk. there was hesitation in his voice. she will make a pelt of it. for me.

the path of another hunter.

he wondered if all of the wild beasts here thought that was all there was to life. endless hunting for things to devour like greedy thieves.

this boy even sought the pelt for some name he did not understand.

and will you pray or give thanks for taking so much from the little red beast?

his voice was hushed and thoughtful, despite the jagged edge of his words.

his question was nothing he could have predicted. the boy’s eyes widened. i- w-well of course.. lómion had the sudden urge then to speak of sedna, and list the punishments that may come should he choose not to give thanks. to prove to this man, this stranger, he listened to kukutux’s stories. he’d retained it all.
but he reminded himself that this man was just that; a stranger. there was no test he’d laid in front of the child to pass.
i don’t understand, he admitted suddenly. i’m not taking much from it. only it’s life. he’d make it quick. as the adults did. as his sister should have done with the crow. 
it’s only prey. but it was more than that was it not? he just couldn’t understand why. 
still he stuck to his statement, as wrong as it felt to leave his lips. why should i give thanks to it?

he did not know if the boy agreed out of compliance in the face of an adult, or if he truly did pray.

briefly a scowl flashed over his features before he smoothed it away. yellow eyes hawkishly perched on the boy’s face.

is a life you steal to make your fancy furs or fill your belly not worth the thanks?

his words, sharper now.

whatever you take from it, you have God to thank for He created the creatures you poach from His land. to not even thank Him for the life He created that you then took?

a tsk pointed.

borderline sin, child.

sharp edges pierced through the man’s soothing voice. he cowered away as though it may cut his skin. perhaps it was unwise to speak his mind to this stranger. 
he attempted to fall back with a sheepish apology and soft objection. it was muted beneath the man’s preaching.
god? his brow furrowed with confusion. but - but i thought sedna was the one who gives us prey.

sedna.

another heathen.

perhaps that was why this little sheep had wandered away from his flock to the shepherd that was bartholomew. to be saved, of course.

no, there is no sedna, boy. confident and certain. he returned back to something more soothing as if he had to tend the wounds of removing a false idol.

God is the one who gives you prey. He also gives you everything you witness. the trees, the mountains and the rivers. why, He even created you.

the man denied sedna’s very existence with such certainty. lómion flinched away as he did so. his eyes wildly searched the grass as though she may appear and turn him into a beast for so much as listening to this stranger. but he saw nothing. heard nothing but the man telling him of god’s many accomplishments.
this new information took the air from the boy’s lungs. why hasn’t anyone told me about god? he whispered.

his heart may have shattered for the boy if this was not his time to shine, to carry this wounded sheep into his flock.

because some people are cruel or blind. they do not wish for you to have the greatness that you deserve, that you can achieve through God.

almost a coo, as if he was a father telling his own son the greatness that He had to offer.

cruel. no, no. his family was anything but. the very suggestion offended the boy somewhat. but blind, that was an easier reality to digest. for he was blind to many ways of the world, he could admit. what’s to say they weren’t either?
there was a greatness, the man says, that is kept from him as a result of his family’s naivety. what that could be, lómion could only guess. but he wished to know out of pure curiosity then anything else.
i would like to know more about god, he whispered. a glimpse into this knowledge couldn’t possibly do harm. so he hoped.

it bloomed in his chest, the warmth of the boy receiving his words in full! this was what made lonely wandering so vital! how much greatness there was to be found in leading another into His embrace.

He is a kind man, He welcomes everyone under His protection. much like a...leader or king might. he looked for some sense of understanding on the boy's face. surely he had a leader. they could not be that lawless here.

all He asks for in return is to follow His simple teachings and give thanks for His gifts — much like the prayer i told you of. think of it as...thanking a parent for bringing you your meal. He provides the beasts we hunt, and we must thank Him for that.

he is powerful, much like the prey keeper of the tales lómion hears. but only to a point, for this god’s power reaches far beyond that of sedna’s. he created the very animals sedna watches over (if she was even real to begin with. but the boy wasn’t ready to unclasp his beliefs yet). he created the glen that surrounds them, and the forests and mountains and seas beyond. he created the limber man that stood before him, the beautiful fox. he created lómion. everything.
it’s intimidating really. to find out a deity so powerful had watched over him since birth. and it’s terrifying to know he could’ve heard lómion’s previous admission. he had the strong urge to apologize profusely then, as a child would, out of fear of punishment.
but as soon as that fear takes hold of his heart, it releases its iron grip somewhat. he found comfort in knowing that this god was a kind man. perhaps he wouldn’t turn the boy into a hideous beast, so long as he prayed.
I will. he nodded quickly. i’ll pray. and — and i’ll follow his teachings too. what are they?

this is a loooot of dialogue, lemme know if i should edit to make it easier to respond to <3

all he could ask for, suddenly appeared in the face of this boy.

he remembered his own family. he remembered how wayward his wife had been, even in her final moments, and how his own boys had never seemed fully committed.

why couldn't any of them had been as good as this boy?

they are simple. some of them you might already unknowingly follow. a soft smile of encouragement, the boy had done so good already. he was right on the cusp of salvation.

you shall not murder, lie or steal — adultery lingers on his tongue, but the boy is still young. perhaps he will tell him of this some other time. honor your father and mother and do not want for things that are not yours.

ah, but here comes the biggest hurdle. the true test of the boys commitment.

perhaps the hardest one for you returning home will be to put no other false gods before Him. He asks for your whole devotion so you might reap all the rewards that you deserve.

you might face hardship or troubling times, others might wish to sway you from the path of greatness, and you must be prepared to not let them do such — and God will provide you with the strength to do so.

there is a list given to him to mull over. 
do not murder. he marks it quickly with a check. do not lie nor steal. he’d spoken only truths so far, so long as his memory served him right. and he’d taken nothing that wasn’t his. he’d shown nothing but gratefulness to his mothers and father.
check check check.
then there is the last rule. one he cannot so easily mark off in red ink. It asked him to be fully devoted. Betray the gods he once knew, and to burn the teachings that came with them. how he could possibly do that, to even begin to do it, he did not know.
lómion’s eyes — that had thus far been fixed to the ground and clouded with thought — turned up to the priest.
He answered simply Ok. The anxiety that had grown within his mind trickled into his voice.
All motivation to search for a fox was cast to the side for now. I should — I need to go home. He shuffled in place. I need to speak to my anaana.

bartholomew would lose his grip here.

the boy sought to return back to his...whatever it was. group, barbarian stake, who knew. but the priest had done his part and felt as confident as he could.

very well, he offered with warmth and support.

blessings be with you, boy, have faith and stay strong.

if that was all, bartholomew would see him off with one last kind look.

one farewell and the boy was left in his own company just as soon as the man had come. he stood there, watching the figure of the man disappear on the horizon, tempted to ask questions he’d yet to figure out in his own head.
he stood in silence for a long while. then he turned back and headed home.