and sighed, wondering if this hunt was such a good idea. But then his father’s words echoed in his mind, spoken after Talis had displayed the fruits of his last hunt, “It’s just a pheasant, boy. Your brother hunted big game when he was twelve.” He clenched his jaw, still feeling humiliated at the words. Why did Father’s voice etch in his mind like ink on a page? His brother had hunted with a team of men and only managed to bounce his spear off a deer. Talis was thirteen now and though he’d asked many times had been spurned by every hunting trip his father’s men had pursued. How was he supposed
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