Fall 32, 518
Hauk stalked through the woods, bow in hand, arrow at the ready. His loyal friend and companion, Fen following close behind him. The area around the outpost showed all the signs of life, yet unfortunately he hadn’t had much luck hunting. Today though felt different. Today he would find prey. He was sure of it.
Hauk surveyed the land around them. Tree’s, with ferns and other small plants spaced between them where all he could see. Even in the fall the climate around the lake was temperate, allowing for such green and growth, but hunting was more than using just the sense of sight. He listened; the wind rustling in the tree’s, the chirping of birds in the distance, the occasional chattering of squirrel. He smelled; the fresh due of the morning, the slight aroma of the wildflowers. And he felt, the area around him, relying on his instincts and unconscious mind to simply be aware. Or at least he tried to. It was a skill that all true hunters possessed. Wolfs, mountains lions, eagles, all of the wild predators had perfected this skill through the gift of nature, and all other hunters strove to master it. The trick was harder that it seemed. No book, no instructor, could teach you the skill. It had to be something that one learned on their own through experience. At this moment, Hauk cursed his lack of it.
Despite his efforts, Hauk did not detect signs of his quarry. Earlier in the day, near the lake shore, he had spied where a group of deer had bedded for the night before moving inland. He had lost their tracks not to long ago, yet he still travelled in the general direction that they had set off. He would glance around him, searching for signs. Hoof prints, tufts of fur left on branches, droppings, anything to set him towards his target. As of yet he has had little luck. He now was searching for some sort of game trail, any path which the local wildfire used to traverse the forest with least resistance. If he could not find his prey, perhaps he could find the path that leads to them. That was his thinking any way.
Fen picked up his pace and trotted forward ahead of the huntsman, nose to the ground, sniffing for any lead. The dog was well trained in the art. His family had gifted him Fen, when the deerstalker had just been an adolescent when he was first accepted into the Knights of Sylir as a squire. While he is no longer on that path, Fen had remained with him. “What is it boy?” Asked the hunter as he stopped to let the dog do its thing. Hauk didn’t see anything, but he knew to trust Fen. After a few moments, the large canine stopped his pacing and began to sniff the ground aggressively, a ridge of few springing up between his shoulder blades. Hauk smiled. They had caught a sent.