11th Day of Spring, 513 AV
Half A Bell South of Silkwater Lake
Dusk
Rock lifted his wet nose to the air, drawing it in and tasting it on the back of his tongue. Moisture was thick all around, the smell of spring rain. The faintest traces of greenery were starting to come alive again if one knew where to look. Winter was finally leaving, and all the hibernating animals would be out and about, ready for the warm seasons and better pickings. And more competition. He lowered his nose back to the ground, snuffling at the damp leaves that carpeted the forest floor beneath his paws. Nothing but the smell of decomposition here. Keeping his snout down, he headed off back toward the lake, not quite head on but in the general direction.
Prey would be attracted to the waterside, off for one last drink before bedding down for the night. Dawn and dusk were the best times to hunt, especially for deer. In the mornings they were just rising, and sometimes even still sleeping in their vulnerable groups. Then before nightfall, they were finding a nice place to sleep. It was always easier when the prey was groggy. Rock absently licked his nose to clear off some leaf flakes and lifted his face, twisting his head every which way for any sign of movement. There was nothing except a pair of squirrels swirling up a tree trunk after one another, and some birds flitting between the branches overhead. A robin sang sweetly, receiving an answering call from somewhere far to his left.
But no deer. Or even a rabbit. Rock broke into a slow trot, careful to keep his tread light on the soft forest floor. The leaves under paw whisked softly and occasionally crunched, but he kept moving, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. When the smell of water and damp earth became strong, he stopped and tested the air again. The lake wouldn't be any more than 10 chimes away. His head turned in its general direction. The soil smelled richer, and things looked more alive this close to the water. Rock peered up into the branches overhead, spotting a few green buds growing in the tangle of brown.
I missed spring. A deep breath filled his lungs with the smell of the forest. A leaf crunched behind him and he whipped around, startling the squirrel that had broken it, up into a nearby tree. It chattered fearfully, then angrily, once its safety up in the branches gave it some courage. Rock's ears pinned back for a moment and he showed some fang, but then turned away with a snort. I'd eat you if I could climb like that. A little peeved, and mostly trying to look busy, he stuck his nose back to the earth, plodding quietly around the area in search of a scent. His nostrils explored around tree trunks, under bushes, and across the open spaces between trees.
When he decided to widen the immediate perimeter, that's when he found luck. At least a few deer had passed through a short wall of brush. Small bits of hair were caught in the thorns hidden inside the dormant bushes, and some of the stalks were trampled. He could see the tracks now too, a few pairs, gouging deep and leaving cloven hoofed imprints in the damp earth. His stomach rumbled from the scent, and he inhaled deeply, wildly sniffing down the line of bushes and back again until he was standing at the slight gap the deer had made. A sort of doorway trampled into the dry wall of foliage.
Carefully, he picked his way through the gap, flinching away when a large thorn caught at his muzzle. On the other side, he circled several times, drawing in the scent then following the tracks for several yards until they faded and became almost invisible. It was the thicker blanket of leaves. Again he circled, silently cursing himself, then followed a strain of the scent to a small tree growing next to the tracks. One must have brushed against it. Rock looked around at the surrounding trees, but spotted no movement, so he glanced back down to prints. Gauging the general direction which they were heading, he broke into a fast lope, hopefully after them.
Half A Bell South of Silkwater Lake
Dusk
Rock lifted his wet nose to the air, drawing it in and tasting it on the back of his tongue. Moisture was thick all around, the smell of spring rain. The faintest traces of greenery were starting to come alive again if one knew where to look. Winter was finally leaving, and all the hibernating animals would be out and about, ready for the warm seasons and better pickings. And more competition. He lowered his nose back to the ground, snuffling at the damp leaves that carpeted the forest floor beneath his paws. Nothing but the smell of decomposition here. Keeping his snout down, he headed off back toward the lake, not quite head on but in the general direction.
Prey would be attracted to the waterside, off for one last drink before bedding down for the night. Dawn and dusk were the best times to hunt, especially for deer. In the mornings they were just rising, and sometimes even still sleeping in their vulnerable groups. Then before nightfall, they were finding a nice place to sleep. It was always easier when the prey was groggy. Rock absently licked his nose to clear off some leaf flakes and lifted his face, twisting his head every which way for any sign of movement. There was nothing except a pair of squirrels swirling up a tree trunk after one another, and some birds flitting between the branches overhead. A robin sang sweetly, receiving an answering call from somewhere far to his left.
But no deer. Or even a rabbit. Rock broke into a slow trot, careful to keep his tread light on the soft forest floor. The leaves under paw whisked softly and occasionally crunched, but he kept moving, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. When the smell of water and damp earth became strong, he stopped and tested the air again. The lake wouldn't be any more than 10 chimes away. His head turned in its general direction. The soil smelled richer, and things looked more alive this close to the water. Rock peered up into the branches overhead, spotting a few green buds growing in the tangle of brown.
I missed spring. A deep breath filled his lungs with the smell of the forest. A leaf crunched behind him and he whipped around, startling the squirrel that had broken it, up into a nearby tree. It chattered fearfully, then angrily, once its safety up in the branches gave it some courage. Rock's ears pinned back for a moment and he showed some fang, but then turned away with a snort. I'd eat you if I could climb like that. A little peeved, and mostly trying to look busy, he stuck his nose back to the earth, plodding quietly around the area in search of a scent. His nostrils explored around tree trunks, under bushes, and across the open spaces between trees.
When he decided to widen the immediate perimeter, that's when he found luck. At least a few deer had passed through a short wall of brush. Small bits of hair were caught in the thorns hidden inside the dormant bushes, and some of the stalks were trampled. He could see the tracks now too, a few pairs, gouging deep and leaving cloven hoofed imprints in the damp earth. His stomach rumbled from the scent, and he inhaled deeply, wildly sniffing down the line of bushes and back again until he was standing at the slight gap the deer had made. A sort of doorway trampled into the dry wall of foliage.
Carefully, he picked his way through the gap, flinching away when a large thorn caught at his muzzle. On the other side, he circled several times, drawing in the scent then following the tracks for several yards until they faded and became almost invisible. It was the thicker blanket of leaves. Again he circled, silently cursing himself, then followed a strain of the scent to a small tree growing next to the tracks. One must have brushed against it. Rock looked around at the surrounding trees, but spotted no movement, so he glanced back down to prints. Gauging the general direction which they were heading, he broke into a fast lope, hopefully after them.
Rock
