by Greth on October 6th, 2011, 8:16 am
Getting to the forest, he padded quietly, letting his instincts take over. He stepped stealthily over branches and twigs, careful to not make a sound as he moved. No matter how he tried to move quietly, though, a branch would snag at him, or a leaf would rustle as his head would brush against it, or he would bend down and the trees would creak. However, he appreciated the practice.
Letting out a frustrated breath since he couldn't move as quietly as he would have liked, he decided to do the thing he was better at: camouflage. He leaned lightly against the tree nearest him, letting his fur colour merge with that of the tree. In moments, he was hardly visible.
He put his bow down on the ground, holding the other end in his hand. Because of his tall height, he had the luxury of being able to use a longbow which had a higher range, and a higher power behind it. The bad thing about using a longbow, however, was the fact that it also required more strength to draw.
Silently, he waited.
A soft snap drew his eyes to the left. There, walking carefully, was a deer. Common enough for this forest, it was, he guessed, the game most people would hunt. Thinking these thoughts, he carefully drew on his bow, sighted his target, held his grip for a moment, then released the string.
The arrow flew with the power of a bent piece of wood and a taught string behind it, slamming into the deer's left side. Blood spurted out from where the arrow had struck, but the deer still tried to move away. Impeded by the arrow lodged deep in his chest, he gave up and fell on his right side, onto the forest floor.
Quickly, both to celebrate his victory and to put the deer out of his misery, Greth ran forward, knelt on the ground, and drawing his knife, cut the deer's throat. He didn't dare look at the deer's face when he did it; sometimes the things he saw in an animal's eyes caused him nightmares, and countless days of dealing with his conscience.
He removed the arrow, and checked the tip. Wiping it on a nearby tree, he figured it could still be used again. Sliding the arrow back into his quiver, he got up. Picking up the corpse of the deer, he moved, not stealthily now, back towards the Spires.
As he came out of the cover of the trees, he realized that his adventurous trek had taken him a better half of the day. Despite that, he was smiling, because the frequent thirst of adventure, at least, was quenched for now.
Moving with a purpose, he returned to Grath's rest; where his adventure of the day had begun. He deposited the deer in their kitchen, getting gazes of admiration and appreciation from the Jamoura who ran the inn, and also the chefs working in the kitchens. His prise wasn't a meaty and big deer, but it was better than nothing.
With that done, he went back to the bar, beaming broadly, waiting for a few coins to be offered to him.