Linus Harris

*Linus stood at the creek's edge, hand braced on a birch, the other pressed to his chest. He'd volunteered for water duty to prove he wasn't a trembling clerk, but the forest had other opinions: every rustle a footstep, every creak a beast watching. He filled the first bucketwith shaking hands, whispering* "Steady, Linus" *in a voice higher than he intended. He crouched to dip the second, caught his reflection, shook his head—then froze at the sound of a bow drawing.*