Memories of Hunting

When I turn 13 my farther takes me hunting, together we bring down a magnificent stag. It is one of the last times he will be kind to me, gifting me with his fathers bow in honour of the occasion.
7) I spent several years hiding in the woods, hunting dear and draining them, it was a meagre living but at least I was not hurting anyone. As time passed I found my senses sharpening, I could see more hear more and smell more than I could when I was mortal. I wonder If we are all like this for I had noticed Scaevola moving confidently in the dark with no need of a torch.
16) Vecatus and his men come for me one night in the fields, they had spent more time and effort asking after me by description than I had thought and the farming communities are small, a new face stood out more than I thought. They set the field ablaze to corner me, at the sight of the spreading flames I am gripped with an all consuming panic as if I am a horse chased by wolves. I flee into the night. After my panic subsides I resolve to travel further afield and escrew all contact with people once again. I make my way north and eak out a life among the fenlands. The long travel and shifting landmarks of the fens teach me to navigate by the stars. On the few occasions I meet people I choose to use the name Dagan in hopes it will throw off any pursuit.