12th of Summer, 513 AV
Enoleus had made decent progress despite his injury, but was growing more and more concerned as it grew ever darker. He still kept his eyes out, trying to catch sign of any tracks, still hoping he could bag some game even in his current state. Otherwise, all he would have to show from this expedition was a wounded leg and a bruised ego. He slowly came to a stop, and would kneel down next to patch of recently disturbed snow. Looked like more Snow Hares, and more than one this time. They had all been going somewhere in a big hurry it seemed, and several had broken off from the main group, judging by several divergent pairs of tracks. Keeping note of where Avanthal was in relation to where he was headed, staying in a crouch he began to follow the tracks, taking only half steps to preserve his balance to minimize the noise he was making. Though the storm clearing up made things a bit easier to see, the sun going down was rapidly beginning to neutralize that little benefit, and if he wanted any chance of success he would have to be quick - but mostly lucky.
It only took fifteen minutes to find it; a large area of snow in front of him had the telltale signs of snow hare burrows. At the moment, there were no hares on the surface, which suited Enoleus just fine as he wet a finger, sticking it into the air to a get a feel for which way the wind was blowing. He moved around the side of the burrows, carefully keeping his distance as he situated himself upward from it. Getting onto his belly, he would carefully began to cover his body in snow, making sure his eyes had enough space to see and his arms enough room to draw back on his bow. With a single arrow loaded, and his body shivering slightly from the snow all around him, he sat and waited as the sun retreated in the distance and the moon began to rise. Minutes whittled away, and Enoleus found himself struggling to keep himself alert as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. The feverish feelings he had been getting earlier had grown slowly worse, and he began to worry that his wound might be getting infected. It wasn't anything that would be too serious; but only provided he got back to Avanthal with some level of haste. He grit his teeth, narrowing his eyes as he forced himself to banish such thoughts from his mind. He had to focus on the task at hand. He would be home soon enough.
More minutes passed. In the distance, the howling of a lone wolf carried across the wastes. Enoleus gripped anxiously at his bow, choosing to focus on maintaining his breathing at a steady pace to prevent his mind from trailing off. Some of the snow had begun to melt due to his body temperature, and the shivering from being buried it in only increased as the melting waters breached into his clothing, causing it to stick to his flesh. If he didn't get up and dry soon he may have to contend with frostbite in some of his less insulated extremities - an unpleasant thought. He grunted to himself, forcing it from his mind as he focused on his breathing - keeping his eyes open and alert for the first sign of movement.
Success.
Timidly from one of the burrows, a snow hare poked its head out. It's tiny nose twitched back and forth as its head darted around, scanning the area for the sights and smells that would indicate it was unsafe. Still situated upwind, and nearly covered completely in snow still, the little cony passed right over Enoleus and emerged from it's burrow, hopping over to a patch of lichen nearby and hurriedly munching away at it. All was dead silent; and good thing too. The Talderan Snowhare had a sharp pair of ears on it, and even the smallest nose could scare it away. Once that happened, it would disappear back inside it's burrow before Enoleus could even hope to react, and it wouldn't be likely any others would emerge for some time - longer than Enoleus could afford to wait in this situation. So he had to make this shot count. Fifteen yards, a non moving target. He ever so slowly began to draw back on his bow, closing one eye to give himself a better feel for the distance to the target. The wind blew steadily to the south-east still, and Enoleus gently nudged his bow to the side, aiming slightly west of the cony. Shortbow arrows were light, and easier carried by wind than perhaps longbow shots would be - but at this distance, he didn't have to adjust his aim much. He wasn't an expert shot, but he liked to think that simply out of desperation, he would make the shot. He held his breath to steady his arm, before loosing the arrow.
To anyone watching from the sidelines, it would have appeared as if a conspicuous mound of snow had just fired and arrow at an unsuspecting snow hare. Enoleus couldn't help but let out a small cheer as the arrow connected with the little cony, the force of which causing the cony to slide back several feet. Quickly, Enoleus pushed himself out of the snow and limped over to his down target, intent of trying to retrieve his arrow. As he knelt by the beast, he froze, as the cony twitched - still drawing breath as it's legs weakly kicked in attempt at escape. With a trembling hand, Enoleus wrapped his fingers around the shaft of the arrow, his eyes locked with the hares. He let out a long, raspy breath as his eyes turned to the impact wound - if he pulled it out now, he could probably salvage it, and it would kill the cony, but it would rip through his ribs - and be incredibly painful. Judging by the pathetic mewling like sounds coming from the rabbit, it was already in incredible pain, and Enoleus closed his eyes as he felt a surge of guilt rush through him. He retrieved his fathers Tamo daggers, and drawing them out he stared down at the rabbit for a few more moments. He couldn't help but wonder if the creature had a family, children and to nurture. Letting out a roar he forced his hand down, driving the dagger into the bunnies skull with one swift strike - ending it's life instantly.
Panting still, Enoleus blinked away moisture that had started to gather in his eyes as he cleaned off his Tamo dagger on his pantleg and put them back in his boot. Recovering his arrow and putting it back into his quiver, he hooked the cony onto his pack for transport, and would stand up, beginning his trip back toward Avanthal.
He would stop by the Hunting Lodge first, if nothing else he figured a Sabretooth so close to the city would warrant the ear of somebody - but then he would likely see about getting someone to look at his leg, as whilst he had been hiding in the snow for his quarry to appear, the pain had amplified, and it felt like there was still an arrow imbedded in his thigh. Though the world seemed blurry and dull to his fatigued eyes, Enoleus couldn't help but smile. Today had been long, it had been painful, and in all honesty, bagging one snow hare hardly made it all worth while... Yet he thought back to what his father had always told him, about his own natural talents. Enoleus had never had anything handed to him, and for a Frostfawn was rather unskilled naturally in hunting, and tracking, and animal husbandry. Yet he never grew discouraged, as his father would always sit him down at the end of a long day of failures, at the dinner table, and would stare him right in the eye.
Enoleus, my son, do you know how the steel sword of a knight is forged? He would ask, never waiting for Enoleus to actually answer.
In the hottest flames. It's the very nature of the world, to take things that are weaker and less useful, to subject them to hardship and pain, and forge them into something better. Just like a sword, a strong man is tempered by the trials and tribulations of his life. Enoleus rested a hand on the wound in his thigh as he walked. It was a self inflicted wound, only necessary because of his own weakness. Had fear not gripped him so tightly, he wouldn't have needed to stab himself. Once again, he had failed to live up to his own expectations of himself, and had paid the price for it. Shaking his head, he looked up, the Icewall gates just barely visible in the distance.
He would have to be better than this.
