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The sunlight dappled whatever it touched, leaves and other things riding the back of the wind through the sun’s beams. The sounds of birds twittering all around him was a good sign. Nothing had seen him yet. The air was cool and sweet, carrying the scent of spring with it. Life was all around him, ready for the picking. Yes, he need just find the right target and bring it down. Too bad humans didn’t look too kindly to his hunger for their flesh. Oh well.
Creeping forward through the trees, Night stalked. He hadn’t found the herd of small deer he had hoped on encountering. Small deer were his favourite. But at least he wouldn’t be going home empty-handed this time. He had a bunch of rabbits waiting to be skinned and salted back at camp. They would earn him a fair pay if he couldn’t catch whatever else he encountered. But now he had to concentrate.
Sniffing delicately, Night growled ever so softly to himself. There was nothing worth hunting nearby as far as he could tell. Still, he was determined to at least find a wild pig or something of the sort. Rabbits just didn’t seem to be his thing that day. Peering at the ground beneath him, the half blood leaned closer, looking at the markings in the dirt. Well, something had gone this way recently. Something big. Perhaps a stray horse? That wouldn’t sell at market, but it would feed him for a while.
Further he stalked, sniffing and looking at the ground as he did so. What he wouldn’t give for a Cyphrus Strider right about now. They were quite tender in the legs if you killed them quick enough. Or maybe a glassbeak drumstick. That would go down nicely. Night’s mouth was salivating just thinking about such things.
Ahead, he heard the snuffling of a boar. A smirk crossed his face. Yes, something fat and juicy to kill. Climbing up the nearest tree that would hold his weight, Night glanced around, looking for the animal. It took a few moments, but he eventually found it digging around for mushrooms and worms among the leaves. His heartbeat sped up, adrenaline rushing through his veins. The hair along his elbows puffed out noticeably, the stubs on his back twitching as he contemplated how to kill the thing. It was big. It had large, sharp tusks capable of gouging a nice hole in his gut.
Shifting his weight, Night thought for a moment. Well, if he dropped down on it from the tree, he could potentially miss or scrape himself on those tusks. If he climbed down to sneak up on it, there was a chance he’d make a noise and scare off the brute. And, god’s forbid, if he threw his dagger at it, he’d either miss or just piss it off.
Looks like it was jumping from the tree. Edging along the branch as quietly as he could, Night stared longingly at the boar. Yes, he needed this boar. It was going to sell bloody well in Syrilas to some wealthy family and he was going to get paid and then he was going to go drink some of this alcohol stuff he had heard about and potentially get laid. A good time to be had by all.
Pulling his dagger from where its sheath had been tied to the cord of his loincloth, Night inched further along until he was hanging directly above the beast. Now that he was closer, it looked bigger than he had originally thought. Perhaps too big for him to take down by himself without injury. Regretfully crawling back along the branch, he froze when he heard a snap...
And crashed right on top of the boar that squealed and thrashed with Night clinging to its back. “For the love of the Great Rending, stop!” he cried out in the tongue of the Zith, holding on for his life. The animal kicked and flailed, trying to get the half blood off of its back.
Dagger still in hand, Night began to stab wildly into the beast’s back, trying to sever its spinal cord before it gutted him right there and then. The most he got were squeals of pain and blood splattered all over his chest and abdomen. And so, holding on for dear life, stabbing with all that he had, Night clung until the boar could kick no more.
The two of them were patting and wheezing, blood dripping from wounds on both creatures. However, while Night’s were only superficial scratches, the boar suffered great gashes and tears. Rolling off of the pig, Night struggled to his knees before he reached out and slashed the boar’s throat with his claws. As the boar bled out, the half blood began to laugh.
“That was one hell of a workout,” he chuckled, wiping a rogue splat of blood from his forehead. He glanced over at the animal, patting its fleshy shoulder. “Well done, my friend. Well done. You almost had me there a few times.” With that, he shakily got to his feet, wiping the blood from his dagger with his loincloth. The male went to lean against a tree, regaining his breath before he had to haul this beast back to his camp. But damn, that was fun!
