Bound 4 Escape

A frail boy stood against the wall. His hair and skin were so pale,
they looked almost white, and his eyes, wide with fear, were the lightest
of blues. This is what Amos noticed first. The second thing he noticed
was that the boy’s arms were tied behind him with a coarse rope. His
ankles were bound as well. And not a dozen steps away, a larger, darker
boy stood with an arrow at the string. His friends stood nearby, shouting
instructions.
“Get ‘is ear! You can make the shot, Ferlin!”
“‘Course I can make the shot. I could part ‘is hair if I wanted.”
“Not ‘is ear…’ is eye. That’s where the danger is. Ya never know. ‘e
could be a Shifter.” “No, ‘e couldn’t. They’ve got green eyes, Dorian, ya
blockhead. I ought’a kill ‘im straight out.”

“Don’t, Ferlin. They’ll take ya ta the Magistrate.”
“And what if they do? No woman can spill my blood, whatever ‘er
title be.”
“Come on, Ferlin. Let’s see what ya can do!”
All this Amos heard as he approached, and before the boys noticed his
presence, he could see, even in the meager light, beads of sweat breaking
out on the face of the boy against the wall. In a flash, Amos had strung
an arrow. He stepped out, blazing with purpose, between the group and
the boy.
“Drop yer bow!” he commanded.
Ferlin and the others were taken by surprise. One of the boys slunk
back into the shadows, but to Ferlin’s credit, he stood his ground.
“Out o’ the way,” he said. “This is not yer fight.”
“I told ya ta drop yer bow,” Amos repeated. He drew the string along
his jaw, closed one eye, and prepared to loose the arrow.
“You’re askin’ fer trouble. I’m the best shot in the village, and everyone
knows it,” Ferlin fired back.
“Aye. It takes a great marksman ta hit a bound target.” At this, one of
Ferlin’s friends snickered.
“Why not try huntin’ somethin’ that fights back? Then we’ll see what
kind o’ shot ya really are.”
Ferlin, whose rage and injured pride had almost driven him to release
his arrow, finally realized the identity of the intruder. His mouth went
slack, and his bow sank to his side. This was Amos. He had killed a
Shadow Wolf in the deep dark of the Whispering Wood. It was a feat that
many boys in the village dreamed of accomplishing. Some even boasted
that they had done it. But here, in the flesh, stood a mere boy of seven
who had actually killed the most feared predator in all Shiloh. This boy
was a legend…already. And if he could shoot a Shadow Wolf in the blackness
of the wood, he could shoot a boy on the edge of the village. Ferlin
threw a quick glance at his remaining friends before turning and melting
away into the darkness.
Amos dropped his bow slowly, releasing the muscles held tense during
the encounter with Ferlin. Then he slung his bow over his shoulder, and,
using the dagger he carried in his belt, cut the ropes of the captive. 

The boy’s eyes were now wide with awe instead of fear. His mouth was open
and tipped up on one side.
“You’re Amos,” he said.
“Aye. And you’re welcome,” Amos replied with a broad grin that told
the boy he was only teasing.
“I’m Simeon,” he said with a shy smile. “Thank you.”