24th of the Day, Autumn, 511 AV.
Jonathon sighed. His back was on the ground, his face turned upwards, towards the sky. He had been like this for over a half-hour, but he had felt no inclination to stand, and didn't feel any now.
He had slipped and fallen, like a dancer with a shoe full of soap, right at the most critical moment; the shot. Jonathon had been creeping through the woods as par usual, looking for something edible, preferably something he had to kill before eating. He had chanced upon a doe, simply standing and grazing about the trees, and Jonathon had hoped for an easy kill. He had nocked an arrow, took aim, shuffled his feet a little... and slipped.
The noise of the arrow whistling off into the sky, and the swearing Jonathon's mouth put in as a result, had of course scared away the deer. Where the arrow ended up, Jonathon would probably never know; the odds of him ever finding it again were miniscule. Jonathon shrugged. They were a copper a dozen in Syliras.
Still, he had fumed on the ground for at least ten minutes. He was supposed to be better then this! All sorts of angry thoughts a curses had run their course through his brain. After a while, though, the silence of the woods and the sky were enough to ease his anger. Now he was just staring into space, his bow limp in his right hand, his left behind his head.
What am I even doing out here? There was certainly no sense of purpose. Just a prolonged romp in the woods. It may be nice being self-sufficient, but it was also hard work; hunting wasn't easy, although it was profitable. But what use did he have for profits? Money didn't help him.
I'm bored, is what I am. Perhaps next time I visit Syliras, I'll rent out an apartment and live in the city a while. It may be loud, but at least there are people... Boring people, of course. Boring boring boring.