God of War

The razor-sharp words clawed at Atreus' insides. He stood chest high before his father in a rabbit-skin sleeveless jerkin to stave off the chill in the breeze. He tried to understand why his father would act so harshly toward him. He tried to accept it. He tempered his rage. It was almost as though the man before him, his father, was a stranger. Shaking the thought away, he raced off in pursuit of the creature. He hoped it would take but a few moments to spot the fleeing animal's tracks in the sparsely covered earth. His tenuous confidence shattered, his heart racing and his mind reeling. Atreus accelerated his pace as fast as his skinny adolescent legs could carry him. Sweat dappled his cropped chestnut hair. Kratos loomed a dozen long strides ahead, picking his way into the forest to locate the animal's trail. Now was no time to talk, no time to think, no time to reflect on his error. Now was a time for action, as his mother had instructed him. If he wanted to eat, he had to locate the tracks and take up the chase. This way, he called out jubilantly. Kratos had unknowingly drifted far left of the animal's path. Your mother taught you well, Kratos fired back through heaving breaths as he pounded the forest floor beside his son to follow the now discernible trail. Approaching a slight pine-infested ridge, Atreus froze. He spied the stag in a thorny copse, grazing on the sparse grass, jutting out every whichway through mounds of dirt-speckled snow. Atreus lowered himself onto one knee, waiting while his father eased in to return the bow. This time wait for my mark. Relax. You must not think of it as an animal, Kratos instructed gruffly. Kratos laid the bow across his son's hands, all the time eyeing their prey. It is simply a target. Clear your mind. The words were unwelcome and unneeded. Atreus knew what he had to do. He had learned to shoot from his mother. He was more than just an able teacher. Atreus leveled the bow before notching in his arrow. Keep that elbow up. I can do this, Atreus whispered more to himself than to his father. Draw to your chin, the god of war instructed. Atreus eased the bowstring back. Concentrate on your target. See nothing else. The stag lifted his head, sampling the air. Having planted themselves upwind, they remained undetected as long as the prevailing breeze did not shift and betray them. Inhale. Concentrate. Exhale. Release. Kratos's stern voice drummed out. Atreus ignored the words. He paused, his own anger rising to meddle with his concentration. He cast everything aside except the target before him. It is merely a target, Kratos said, interrupting the boy's concentration. Atreus felt his wavering arm drift upward. He commanded it to be still. He was off target. He began the painstakingly slow task of correcting his aim ever so gently to return the arrow tip to its mark. Take the shot, boy, now, Kratos urged, impatience riding his words. Silently, the arrow arced true to its target. It penetrated the rear of the stag's shoulder. The beast lurched skyward before pounding into the forest in a hobbling flight directly away from their location. I got it, Atreus chimed. He lurched to his feet in triumph. Good, Kratos said, still restrained. The boy had failed to drop the beast where it stood. Now they had to chase it down again. Atreus wanted to smile, wanted to celebrate his accomplishment before his demanding father. But instead, he needed to focus on locating the beast before it could flee too far. All was not lost as long as he could keep on the beast's trail and reach it before it might locate a safe refuge. Atreus scrambled to take up the chase. The blood trail made his task obvious. Before the deer could scamper beyond sight, they witnessed the beast's forelegs faltering. He'll not run far, father, Atreus called over his shoulder, his excited smile spreading across his face. Kratos followed a dozen anxious strides in his wake. Atreus paused, but only long enough to confirm he maintained the blood trail. This way, he instructed his father, angling his bow in the direction to follow. Atreus stopped suddenly at the fringe of a leafy copse. His feet remained rooted as Kratos approached a few seconds later. The deer had fallen, blood oozing from the shaft still buried in its shoulder. Terrified, it stared up at the lad who now stood over his accomplishment.