The Sight of Horns(Featherline)

[Jarhal Treeshadow]

A buck.

Just the word got his heart to speed up, his tongue wetting his lips. It had never riled him much to see a doe, killing a doe was a thing done for meat. There were so many of them that it was no special feat. A buck, however, with it's mighty horns was a different matter. The first time your eyes set down on a rack of ivory horns, your hands began to tremble and your breathing became erratic. It was a symbol, trophy and meat as one, that sang to the skill of the hunter.

In a clump of tall grass on the edge of a trail, the grass parted and beaten down with the constant trod of deer hooves, Jarhal Treeshadow had sat waiting for maybe an hour. It was very difficult to tell the passage of time, out in the wilds. For what he was calling an hour, he had watched a gaggle of doe and baby deer poke about their clearing. He had never considered loosing an arrow at any of them, they were as much a vital part of the trap as anything.

For every buck, there were many doe. A harem, in reality. The bigger the buck, the more points of his horns, usually the older and smarter he was. Only the smart survived so long, out here. And so the smart ones used their harem of doe as a shield, sending them in first to make sure an area was safe. Only after the buck was satisfied did he follow after, and the longer he took to be satisfied usually meant the smarter he was as well.

After a hellish hour, sitting in the tall grass with the sun beating down upon him, finally the buck had made his appearance. Jarhal had tried sending his hound, Chural, back to Endrykas to save the dog from the baking of the sun and irritation of the bugs, but Chural had had none of it. Now he was glad to have the dog's companionship beside him, something to share the excitement with and thereby control it.

The Buck was confident now, strutting his way into the center of his family. Rubbing sweat off his fingers on his green cloak, slowly straightening the green and brown-stitched cloth mask hanging about his nose and mouth, he began to draw his bow slowly and fluidly. The nocked arrow slid back and then stopped, ready to release. The world seemed to move in slow motion, for Jarhal at least, as he waited the perfect moment to fire and take his trophy. He could feel Chural beside him, tensing as he knew the moment was coming.

[Featherline]

Featherline circled over what seemed to be an endless sea of grass with creatures here and there. Just minutes ago she had been gliding in a straight line in an attempt of crossing the meaningless terrain before sunset and yet without wasting too much energy on a quick flight. What had made her stop was the barely visible person trying to blend in with the grass and a group of does. She was well fed and did not intend to interfere by attacking either the human-looking shape or the animals. Yet, she enjoyed watching humans and their methods of hunting. They had certain style to their ways. Humans were just as easy prey as apes and sloth without their tools, but with those tools even the most pathetic of humans could pretend to be a lion on the savanna. Claws of steel and deadly sticks that traveled with the air. She had long forgotten the words humans used for these tools, but she dared not forget what could be done with one of these tools. She knew that attacking an armed man could mean death if she acted carelessly.

A buck had entered the field and joined the does, and Featherline studied the creature she circled to see what his response would be. Like any other hunting human would, he drew one of his tools. She remembered it as her most feared enemy, the bow that spat flying wood. She did not know much of human speed, but she did not doubt that the buck could be gone long before the human could reach it to attack by steel claws, and he would not be able to recapture the animal then. Choosing the bow was probably the best choice, even if it frightened her. In air, she was the queen. Other animals feared her for her size and strength, and did not willingly interfere with her ways. These flying pieces of wood attacked without fear and stung harder than a wasp. Just as frightening a lone flyer as in packs, she dared not cross the will of a wielder of the bows when they had the tool in their hands.

She saw the bow being loaded, the string being pulled backwards. She flapped her wings a few times to gain height, keeping a safe distance as she realized the wood would soon fly. She hoped she wouldn't catch the attention of the stick so that it would turn and fly at her because of a revealing movement on her side. She usually made no such mistakes, but she couldn't be to cautious with these flying sticks around.

[Jarhal Treeshadow]

There was a moment of silence, where the only noise was the muted twang of the bowstring popping forward and then the meaty thunk of the bodkin tip finding deer-flesh and driving it's way in. The whole group of doe paused only a split-second, their heads jerking up in shock, before they began to flee. Darting every which way, they disappeared into the forest as Jarhal stood and drew another arrow from his quiver in a flash. He nocked the arrow, pulled back, and let loose in the same motion.

The buck, however, was not strutting or standing still any longer. He lumbered into the wilderness with one arrow sticking from his ribs, the second arrow soaring just over his back as he made to escape. Jarhal did not chase or attempt a third shot, it would only be a waste of an arrow. He merely waited for the doe and baby deer to clear out some, and then yelled a single word in Pavi, the native language of the Drykas.

"Go!" Even for one who did not understand the language, the meaning would be obvious. Shooting out like a brownish streak, Chural the scarred hunting dog darted after the wounded buck on Jarhal's word. Barking occasionally, the hound tracked after the buck while Jarhal walked over to where he had initially hit the deer. Blood freckled the grass, bright healthy blood which showed him that his arrow had hit well. Blood loss killed a dear almost immediately when you clipped the heart, which saved everyone's time with tracking down the body.

No matter how far it ran, though, it would not escape the Emerald hunter after it caught an arrow. In the distance he could hear Chural's barks, alerting him to where the buck had gone. By the sounds of it, he could tell this would not be a long track at all. At a trot, he took off toward the sound of his dog. He found his companion and his quarry just a short 60 yards away. Chural sat beside it, wagging his tail happily. He loved doing his job.

Giving his dog a scratch on the head, he slipped his arm and head through his composite bow and slung it about himself for ease. Then he took a moment to look over his catch and then kneeled down beside the corpse. Muttering something in Pavi, with closed eyes and a reverent look on his face, he gave a prayer to Caiyha to thank her for this hunt... and then readied himself to drag the whole thing back to Endrykas. There was always a price to pay for taking the large and heavy dear.

[Featherline]

Featherline twitched when the flying wood left the bow, fearing it was aimed at her. Then the hunter fired a second time, faster than the first shot. The buck started running, and the peaceful pack of does split and fled. Featherline was tempted to chase the buck and take it down just to see what the human-like being would do with it, but she knew that was unwise.

Featherline's attention was drawn to the human again as he shouted something she did not recognize as words. His dog, which she had paid little attention to before now, darted forward. Eventually the buck slowed down it's sprint and fell to the ground panting, and signs of breathing faded away shortly thereafter. When the dog caught up with the buck it started barking, seemingly a signal to it's master. Already on his way, Featherline didn't have to wait long before the hunter reached his prey and started dragging it in some direction. She couldn't see anything in particular that way, and the human's progress was slow.
An interesting thought struck her then, as she watched the man below. He was a hunter like her. He could be that person she had been searching for, could he not? In company of this person she could hunt, and he already had with him a dog. He didn't seem to have problems with animals.

Featherline flew lower, nearly right above the high grass, but far enough behind not to be spotted by her descending. She sort of had a plan on how to approach the man, but she had no idea if it would work as she hoped. The man seemed busy enough not to make any sudden movements, but from this height she couldn't see the dog: a barrier of grass was between them. The dog might very well notice her and decide on jumping up from the sea of grass and take a bite of her. That was her biggest concern, although this was her first time for years and months she had no track of, where she would interact with a sentient creature. She planned on using words, even. That had been quite some time since she tried.

[Jarhal Treeshadow]

It was not long before exhaustion got the better of him. He was physically fit as any Drykas, but it was a long way back to Endrykas and even longer still when dragging something this big through that damnable high grass. Chural, meanwhile, pranced along right at his heel as happy as could be. The dog got all the fun parts and none of the hassle, the lucky mutt.

Soon he came within sight of a cropping of black rocks jutting up from the high grass in a line, and decided this was as good a place as any to take a break. The buck was dragged around into the small shade the largest rock cast and then the triumphant hunter took a much-needed rest sitting against the rocks. Pulling back his green cloak's hood, and then pulling down the cloth mask wrapped above his nose, he closed his eyes and breathed long deep breaths. Chural, ever the watchdog, sat right up against him and kept an obedient guard.

As he rested his eyes and limbs, he thought about all the things his people back at the Emerald clan pavilions would do with the deer. Every organ put to some use, the horns carved into beautiful handles for tools or weapons, and the venison meat maybe made into jerky. He loved venison jerky. It always made him feel good to think of these things, made him feel useful or like he belonged to something bigger. The truth he knew all too-well, however. The truth that he was young and inexperienced, half the hunter his brothers had been. And yet it all rested on his shoulders, now, and he had to struggle under that burden completely alone.

[Featherline]

Featherline had been following the human for some time, and he seemed tired. Progress got slower, and when they got to a bunch of rocks he sat down in the shades, probably to rest. She figured this might be a good moment to catch him off guard, and landed gently in the grass. There, she took a deep breath and embraced the human within. With a blink of light the big eagle disappeared, replaced by a young and strong woman with short, white hair. Her eagle-eyes shone through her eyes still, and by nature she refused to move her eyes around in the socket. She felt it was unnatural.

Without her feathers, the air reached her skin without problems. The air was hot, but to her it was a sensation she was not used to. She felt naked, and crouched together. This made her feel safe.
Finished getting used to the surroundings and herself, she stalked through the high grass towards the rocks she knew the hunter would be resting under. Eventually she reached the little clearing, and poked her head through the grass. Not far away from her sat the hunter's dog, and she knew it could see her just as good as she saw it. Therefore she froze, waiting for the dog's reaction.

[Jarhal Treeshadow]

Chural tilted his head curiously, and studied the woman in complete uncertainty. He was a hunting dog, trained to track animals not people. Slowly, he stood and began to whine worriedly, unsure what to do. The woman smelled strange, but not dangerous. She stood frozen, making no aggressive or friendly action. What was a dog to do? His first thought was to whine louder, and nudge at his tired master beside him.

Jarhal opened one eye to look down at his dog, grumbling "What's your problem you ugly..." He looked up as the dog pointed with his nose. He rubbed his eyes, surely he was suffering some sort of Cyphrus mirage or something. But no, the woman remained. Or rather, the white-haired head of the woman he could see not obscured by the grass.

He stood immediately and began to walk to her, holding up his hands as a friendly greeting. What in the world was she doing out here? He was still a couple of miles from Endrykas, at best, and no beaten trails winded through this untamed land. He could not say if she was an outsider, as the Drykas were a diverse bunch by choice, but at that moment it didn't matter. Drykas or not, this was a dangerous place to be alone.

"Hello? Are you alright?" He asked gently in Basic, thinking it best to use the more common language. He spoke with a heavy 'country' accent, slowly and with a drawling slur of certain syllables. "Are you... lost?"

He continued to advance slowly to within several yards away and then stopped, keeping his empty hands displayed.

[Featherline]

Featherline stepped carefully out of the grass when the man noticed her and began walking towards her. She kept her figure crouched, ready to flee if something went bad. He had his hands up and free of tools, apparently gesturing that he did not intend to kill her. "I'm not lost. I... oversaw you hunting that buck, and since you are the first human I've spotted for days I decided you were worth visiting. I figured you could use some help with dragging that thing with you. And about that, where are you heading?" Featherline's language was hard and difficult to keep up with as her talking speed depended a lot on what letters she used, rather than how she was supposed to pronounce the words she used.

While talking she did not look at the man, but her eagle-eyes rested only on the bow and the hands of the man. She wondered if the flying wood would attack by themselves if she got too close. Best not to tempt them. Another thing that bothered her, despite her nature of eating most animals without minding for their feelings, was the whimpering of the dog. "Dogs do not whimper without reason. Is there a problem? I did not see him get hurt under the hunt. No, he seems worried, or afraid."

[Jarhal Treeshadow]

His eyebrows climbed as he immediately realized she was not only strangely alone in the wilderness, but naked and alone in the wilderness. His usually critical observing gaze now turned downright prudish as he kept his gaze well above the neck. Usually a very prudent sort of man, the situation had begun to confound him to no end. She had oversaw him hunting? Had she been hiding in the underbrush in only her skin?

"I'm sorry, I am a little confused. I'm returning my catch to Endrykas. Just what are you doing out here?" He squinted an eye at her, still trying to puzzle this together himself. A safe bet now that she was a foreigner, and a peculiar one at that. "Don't mind Chural, he just doesn't know what to make of you. Neither do I." His eyes drifted down of their own accord before he could pull them back up.

Forming a sign with his hand and fingers, Chural seemed to catch it as a sort of command and immediately calmed down. Instead of uncertainty, now was just a general wariness that seemed to fit the dog naturally. The hound sat and watched the woman passively, sniffing the air occasionally.

"My name is Jarhal, from the Emerald clan of the Drykas. Who are you?" He introduced himself slowly, awkwardly, as though unsure he had made the right choice in being so friendly. Foreigners had not been spoken of with exactly the highest regard in Jarhal's Pavilion.

[Featherline]

Featherline saw a change in the man's eyes as he spoke. He was as uncertain about her as his dog? She thought the man she had picked was a great hunter with no weaknesses, but this proved her wrong. Maybe she would have appealed more to him in her own nature.

She remained silent for a moment while thinking about the question she had received. "I call myself Featherline. I am a bird. I don't belong anywhere in particular."

She tilted her head, curious as to what this Jarhal would think of her reply.