Bloodfight held his breath waiting for the crash of the falcon as he made a half turn around through the grasses, circling the area slowly to come up behind where the bird would have been, with his own heart thudding against his chest harder demanding he should breath. The halfling kept holding his breath still, waiting, straining his ears for the rustling stalks of the grass where the falcon may have landed but instead- flapping. He heard the sounds of the falcons wings flapping into the air, from his crouched position he breathed and then straightened up, darted to try and catch the bird now ascending into the sky by lunging- he missed by a mile.
Catching himself just barely before he would touch ground, he stayed there, kneeled and hidden in the grasses, the shadow of the bird now flying away from him.
He straightened up this time, eyes widened and surprised; that bird was flying away from him. HIM. Just like the last bird (or perhaps this was the same bird), Bloodfight felt his own blood begin to boil in his body. Why were birds such cowards? Just because they could escape danger by taking flight and hiding in the sky?! Growling, he felt his body move slowly as his temper burned, arching his arm back with the hand holding the stick and threw it hard into the air after the east heading bird. The stick, being as it was, made a few turns in the air before gravity would finally take it and send it spiralling into the grasses mere yards away from Bloodfight. It would never had hit the bird in the first place, it was far too high in the sky to begin with.
Screaming at it, he stayed where he was- much like a child and gripped his head, pulling at his hair and sinking back into the grasses. Eyes being squeezed tightly shut, his whole body began to tighten, tense, and shake as he contained his rage. Bloodfight stayed like that, rocking back and forth for an hour, usually he would always let his anger loose but it also resulted in him hurting himself more so than his brawls and fighting did. The falcon had already done its damage, both of them, maybe, he was pretty sure now it had been the same bird as last time. There was no reason to travel so much farther away, heck, if he went and did something stupid now- there was the great possibility his ruckus would attract bigger things to him.
Finally he would stand up and begin locating his items, and then going to the strenuous task of collecting the petchable bird snare. He could not reach it, or take it down by being on the ground, so he put all his weight on the tree and leaned; bending it downwards until finally he could sit on some of the branches and begin fighting with the snare to take it off. When he got off, the tree shot back up, though slightly bent and disfigured, from where the most strain in the thin trunk there had been, looked as if it had started to snap in half. Bloodfight didn't care in the slightest, he looked to the east, the direction which the bird had gone and began to travel that way.
He had no clue which way the bird had went after a good few hours now, in the time of those few hours of travel he had effectively made himself lost in the grass.
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