There's Food to Kill (Tuloth)

[Fois]

2nd of Summer, 511 AV ”You know,” Fois heard Seleer’s voice in his head. ”There’s one thing that has always been bothering me.” ”What’s that?” The Endal asked while passing a couple of Deks in the tunnels. They both leaned against the wall in order to not be an obstacle to the rider. ”I’ve been meaning to ask you, but it is such a trivial matter that it just usually slips my mind.” ”What is it?” Fois’s curiosity has now peaked and the manner in which the Wind Eagle has been dragging out the issue was getting slightly aggravating. ”How come you never prepare your arrows in the evening before the hunt? Or better yet, have some stored to be ready for several hunts?” ”Well, I sometimes do that…” the Endal slowly replied after a few brief moments of pondering. Seleer had raised an interesting issue, one that Fois had never thought about. This type of preparation probably fell under the same category of matters that the rider preferred to deal with when the time came. ”Yeah, after a hunt so bad where you had barely had anything to shoot at,” the bird quipped. Fois shrugged, even though Seleer couldn’t see the gesture. ”There’s no problem with doing it the way I do, though, is there? What’s with this question anyway?” ”Nothing. I was just wondering and it got me a little curious.” The Wind Eagle’s tone then got a bit snider. ”If you were thinking more than one step ahead of you, we would already be in the air. And after all, you don’t even have to walk down there every single time. Get some Dek to fetch it for you.” ”I guess I could,” Fois nodded. ”I probably just don’t mind having a bit of walk in the morning before the hunt.” ”’Probably’? One would think you should know such things…” The Endal smiled. ”Leave me alone, will you?” His conversation with the Wind Eagle ended right when he entered the archery range. Fois looked at a few Inarta who were practising their skill there. He knew he should visit this place more often to not just pick up arrows and promised to himself to come there during the next day off. Such personal mental contract was nothing new to the Endal, though carrying it out would have been something unique. Nevertheless, he felt better just by thinking of planning to do something productive in his free time. Fois approached one Chiet, who has been working at the range. He grabbed the commoner’s attention with a click of his tongue. ”Arrows,” the Endal issued a short and simple request when the Chiet turned to him. Before the man turned around and went to fulfil the demand, Fois added: ”Hunting.”