memory What: Memory Will characters be viewing the memory or experiencing it?: Experiencing Warning, this memory contains: Deer hunting, bodily injury.
The trees around you are tall, their trunks thick, the saplings thin, and behind you are the slight exhalations and quiet footsteps of the men and women of your hunting party. They're all seasoned, and those youngest are in the rear to watch your backs, to learn as you show them how to move, how to stay quiet. There's a tingle in the back of your mind though, that place where you tend to think of your mother, when you used to sit with her chin on her knee and she worked the loom with agile fingers and a deft mind.
You don't have her gift, except for this: a tingle and a surety. Deer will die today, some will be salted for the winter, others will be smoked, but the village will eat well tonight and death will give life. That is the way of it. Your footsteps are quiet, the arrow notched into the bow, ready. Droppings mark a branch, and they steam in the cool air. The deer is close. You slow further, watching the placement of your steps to not give away a sound that will startle them. You stop, two trees away from an open meadowland with several deer inside.
Those behind you spread out slowly and when you're all ready, you loose your arrows. What you do not expect as you watch them rain down on the herd in the clearing is for pain to tear into your calf, bright and white-hot. Pain is not something you've ever felt, it's new, and radiating, and in a life without that sensation its takes over everything. You gasp, hand smacking against the back of a tree, your vision going white as your leg threatens to give from the sudden sensation.
You can smell the arrow before you look down. It's bright green in your nose, sweet and spicy with a wealth of sensation behind it. Mistletoe.