64th of Fall, 510AV
Endrykas in fall, one of the best times for the hunt between the sweltering heat of summer and the cutting cold of winter. The animals moved now to secure themselves for the brunt of the next season, and so the hunters moved too. Jarhal was just one of these hunters, and not the best either, but the only way to grow was to survive in the wild. He had survived.
Jarhal Treeshadow, in all his earthy green and brown and still smeared with dirt, rode through the winding ways of the tents of Endrykas. This day he rode upon his mount and good friend Topher, while a sleek brown hunting dog with a scarred face trotted alongside. In truth, he wouldn't have been riding if there was room for a man and two animals to walk abreast in the haphazard lanes without trampling someone's tent. The erratic unplanned mess of pavilions was one of the charms of Endrykas, though. He wouldn't wish it any different.
Over his left shoulder hung a string of three or four dead squirrels tied together, and in one of his saddlebags were various nuts and berries gathered throughout the week. On his hip was a quiver of bodkin arrows, with his compact horse bow hanging from one of the handles of Topher's yvas saddle. He rode now through the gnarled branches of the tent city, heading through the center and out the other side to reach the Domain of the Druid. There, these squirrels would be properly skinned and preserved without an organ going to waste.
Just as a branch leading to the center of a tree, the lane finally began to widen enough to accommodate him afoot. He stopped to dismount fluidly and give his horse a pat, then continued on with both animals following at his heel. Chural, his hunting hound, looked about warily even here. Topher, the Strider, just looked bored.