18 Fall 510 Xiani is awoken by a rough shove, and a spear-butt to the ribcage. A growl rises in her throat as she spins to her feet, ready to face the attacker, blood boiling with adrenaline. Instead of an enemy, she sees the gray face of her mentor. It is pursed and hard, from years of flying against the wind, and before Xiani can voice her drowsy confusion, her mentor chides in a growling voice, far past years of even resembling melody, "You have slept too late. Your Hunt has come." Without even waiting for a response, her mentor turns and heads for the main cave, hand running along the wall. As she walks, she taps the spear on the floor, listening to the echo. One would think that in her age, she would have learned how to navigate these halls more effectively after losing her eyes. Then again, one would not expect her to be able to identify her students by the feel of their fur or their wings, or navigate a forest by the scent of the river and a certain plant that only blooms on cliffsides. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Xiani followed the woman, wings trembling slightly as the full impact of what is about to transpire finally settles in. Over the last moon, she and the other younglings had been preparing for this Hunt, and all the others save for the 3 that followed her had returned more successful than any flight class before it. (One strong male had returned with a cursed wolf - a hulking creature 3 times the size of his kin and ferocious as a cubbing bear.) Her stomach rumbled, betraying her nerves and hunger, but she would not mewl for food like a youngling. Not tonight. Tonight, she stood strong and took the spear that was offered with firm hands, stepping so that her toes overhung the cave's entrance, giving her a view of the dark canopy beneath. "Fly swift, and return with pride," her mentor says quietly, squeezing her shoulder for only a moment before she steps back to stand beside someone Xiani recognizes as her father. The look on his face is queer, not a stoic mask as is his usual. Tonight, a strange, almost hopeful light shines from his crimson eyes. But perhaps it was just the moon. Without even taking a deep breath to steady her nerves - nerves? I will succeed and earn my place - Xiani leaps into the air, waiting until she is only feet above the trees to snap open her wings, carrying enough speed to allow her to glide upon still, silent wings for almost a mile. Tonight, she is not a student, nor a youngling - she is a huntress, a mistress of the night wind. In her colony, hunting down a wolf or a cougar one's first time out alone, would be frowned upon. The purpose of this test is to prove yourself a good asset, a bringer of food, to the colony. Xiani would be expected to bring back a fox or a turkey, because of her rank of all things, perhaps a young doe at the most. From the beginning, she strove to prove them wrong. Her poor, ungainly mother would not define her. Like a flame being set to dry wood, the mentality of the hunt spreads through her, consuming every other thought process. Worry, fear, hunger, hope, angst all fall to her primal self; all semblance of sentience beyond a great beast fades into the depths of her blood red mind. Her ears note the sound of footsteps across the mossy floor below; her nostrils catch the scents and pick them apart rapidly - the coupling deer in the meadow, the mother wolf leading her elder pups on a hunt, the recently chewed grass consumed by some large herbivore; hear ears flicking ever so slightly at the creaks of branches or, she realizes with a start, the padding of enormous paws. There was a bear in the woods tonight, she would have to be careful. After spending a fair amount of time circling the same area, taking stock of as much information she could, Xiani stilled her wings and glided to a silent perch upon a bare branch. The thudding of her wings - no matter how soft - would alert animals to her presence. Once upon the branch, she shivers, causing the fine hairs on her body to raise ever so slightly so that she could feel the natural wind currents of the forest. She sits upon the branch for a moment, wingtips crossed beneath her to keep her balance centered. Once she is sure that the forest has not noticed her, Xiani keeps hold of the branch with one hand and lowers herself to the floor, having to drop the last ten feet. Just before impact, a breeze catches Xiani's slightly flared wings - meant to soften her landing - and knocks her off balance, causing her to fumble backwards onto a pile of dead leave and roll her ankle. She hisses at the mistake, cursing herself silently and retreating to the shadows of an ancient root system, spear clutched tightly against her chest. She scents the air, searching for the bitter, sour, smell of fear, ears keen for any abrupt movement. The forest resumes its natural pattern, like the intake and exhale of breath of a sleeping form, just waiting to be awakened by any threat. Once sure of her invisibility, she takes a step, using the side of her foot to push any noisy rubble from beneath that step, then repeating the slow, silent motion until she has managed to make her walk utterly silent through habit. Her body is low to the ground, her strides long and powerful, giving the appearance of her gliding across the sleeping earth. Finally, her quarry comes into view. A large, elder stag in full rut stood among sleeping does, scraping his horns against a nearby tree, too proud and full of male testosterone to remember that he is not the top of the food chain, standing amongst his harem as if their femininity would protect him. Xiani sinks to a deeper crouch, keeping a ridge and a tree trunk between her and the stag's line of sight. She uses her hair to detect the direction of the wind's movement, noticing that she is in the same current as the buck and he could possibly catch her scent. Moving slowly, eyes on the buck, she travels from shadow to shadow, until she is downwind from the now preening buck. Xiani watches the buck for another moment, looking for weakspots, noticing any subliminal patterns or habits the buck may carry. Finally, satisfied with her choice, she rises to her feet slowly, and pulls the spear back behind her head, eyes focused on the buck. She inhales deeply, steadying her hand, eyes focusing solely upon this creature, her prey. Whipping her arm with such speed and intensity, it appeared to be only a blur, Xiani unleashed the spear, almost jumping for joy when she heard the solid thump of wood into flesh. Awakening all of his females, the buck lets out an awful, forest rending screech. Thrashing about, he kicks one of his females, most of whom have already scattered, sending her to the ground with a wheeze for just a moment before she too flees. Enraged, the testosterone and adrenaline fueled creature turns and dashes at the place where I had been standing prior, catching the remains of my scent. When he realizes that his foe no longer stands there, he kicks out and dashes into the forest, appearing to be somewhat weaker already from bloodloss. Walking quickly, upon the balls of her feet, Xiani makes more noise - especially when she lands upon a dry twig or especially loud pile of leaves - but she is able to follow the buck. Her eyes keenly note each droplet or puddle of blood, as well as places where the buck slid over the leaves and, eventually, where her spear fell out and more blood began to fall. She had to give the buck some credit, he was strong, a worthy opponent that kept her trotting through the forest for the better part of an hour. But finally, she found his still body strewn in the middle of a tree's embrace, eyes glassy and still. For a moment, she missed the confident fire that had once lit them. That is, until she realizes that she has just achieved her first solo kill. Grinning and fighting the urge to let out a fierce whoop, Xiani approaches the carcass and begins setting to work. She first makes an incision with the spearblade just below the jaw, cutting through thick sinew and then bone as she snaps then severs the spine. Her blade flies as she slices from the first cut down the animal to its crotch. From the breast incision, she flays its skin on the underside of each leg, then a band around the bottom part of the haunch and flank, where the fur begins to thin on its legs. Tapping her foot, fighting the urge to constantly look over her shoulder, she uses the more dull side of the blade to slide apart flesh and sinew, having to cut off the spear's wound because the flesh there is so mauled and stained. She then peels back the skin all the way to just below the tail, saving the pelt from the intact head to the fluffy little tail children played hunting games with. She tosses aside the thick pelt, struggling mildly beneath the weight, then takes the carcass by the limbs and struggles into the air, placing it in the higher branches of a nearby tree to be collected after she returns to the colony. However, when returning to the skin, Xiani hears a sound that she will never forget, one that chills her body to the bone. The deep, rumbling growl of a bear. Even worse? This behemoth is cursed, and making its way over to her prize. |