[Flashback] Teeth, Both Ivory and Metal (Cypress)

[Nustril]

Timestamp: 16th of Summer, 509 A.V.

Nustril's sleek black form was huddled down into an uncomfortable nook in the stone and dirt beneath him. It had taken him over an hour to follow the tracks of the goats to a suitable water source, and still longer to locate a hiding place which would mask his scent while simultaneously allowing him swift access to the stream. Little more than a flowing brook, water was trickling down the rocky face of the cliff to his back and across the flat shelf upon which his hiding place was located.

Deep down in the valley below, perhaps a two or three hour hike distant, Cypress laid in wait next to a small lake which was fed by this brook. The stream widened at the base of the peak, where it was fed by several other small streams which had followed the path of least resistance to the bottom. Together the combined water flow was enough to form a feeble river which ended at the mouth of the lake.

The two had scouted this area extensively in the passed few days to determine where they would find the best hunting. Though Nustril had selected both spots, he had done so in human form while bouncing questions and answers back and forth with his mate. He was the more experienced of the two when it came to hunting and killing, even if it was not by much. In spite of his choosing the general locations, Cypress would choose her own hiding place and her own prey when the time came.

Nustril was frozen to the spot. Occasionally, after listening hard and watching for any sign of his prey, the great cat would shift his weight on his paws and wiggle away some energy. He was reasonably sure that the goats of this region came here to water. Unfortunately their hoof prints were difficult to follow. He had examined their delicate cloven-hoofed shape, but lost them occasionally among the rocks.

Mountain goats could travel places that were difficult for a tiger to traverse. Add that to the fact that the dirt in the mountains was often hard packed, or filled with rock altogether. Even worse, the goats did not weigh very much. There was only one solid set of tracks he had been able to follow here. The trails could just as easily have been the same animal circling through the area at different times. Worst case scenario: there was only goat up here.

[Cypress]

As she stood scanning the glassy surface of the lake, Cypress gathered the individual tails of hair resting on her shoulders and twisted them together into a single extension that fell to mid-back. Her eyes followed the edge of the lake, trying to locate a hiding spot. The northern side of the lake disappeared into a concentration of tall reeds. It was the perfect place to disappear and await her prey.

Using her lightest step, she followed the shoreline until she reached the reeds. The first several feet of the mass of long green whips emerged from the water, but soon enough there was dry land beneath. She chose a spot where land met water, wadeing into their midst and lowering herself into a crouch. Her legs had grown strong while traveling through the mountains, some too treacherous for Dolanne to traverse safely while carrying Cy. Leaving her legs as the best form of transport.

A long glance toward the mountains put a picture of Nustril in her mind's eye. She imagined him hunkered down, ready to pounce. A flush of warmth passed through her and she smiled, returning her attention to the lake. She looked overhead, waiting patiently for the sound of flapping wings.

She reached over her shoulder and grasped a single arrow and smoothed the fletching before lifting her bow. She notched the arrow but kept the string slack until she had some sign of movement. Wild ducks or geese, she had no preference, either would offer a challenge for her bow skills. Once more she fussed with the feathers at the base of the arrow's shaft, making a mental note that this arrow would need some repair when she reached camp.

She relaxed into her crouch and used the tip of her arrow to part the reeds directly in front of her, not enough that her presence would be exposed, but enough to offer herself a clearer view of the water before her.

[Nustril]

Some would attempt to claim that the most important skill of hunting was knowledge of your surroundings, others would claim it to be knowledge of your prey, while still more would claim that the ability to kill was more vital than all others. Nustril knew better. The most important thing in hunting was patience. All of the knowledge in the world would be unable to help the impatient hunter. No ability to kill could be of use if the hunter found himself unable to remain still enough for the prey to come to him.

Had he not been hunting this very moment he would have snorted at the memory of a man who had claimed tracking to be vital in the practice of hunting. That man had likely never been hunting in his life. Tracking had been useful in this instance, true, but all it did was lead him to a water source. Anyone with knowledge of the location of this brook could be reasonably sure of finding prey here without even the slightest knowledge of how to follow an animal here.

The tiger remained still. He was quite the hunter, though he attempted to attach modesty to the admission whenever he made it. Killing was also something he was good at. As he watched the bubbling water he twitched the tip of his tail and nothing else. Time passed, but the wind moved the dust on the shelf more than it moved Nustril. A gentle clop clop clopping disturbed the silence. The tiger tensed.

[Cypress]

There was no wind, not even enough to ruffle a strand of her dark hair. Cy remained still, taking a long draw of the fresh air. The pad of her thumb ran along the bow string, the world was so still she could hear the sound of it and she stopped.

Her toes slipped a fraction and she could feel the lake water begin to seep into her boots. She wrinkled her nose but remained as still as a statue. Her mind wandered to imagine the return to camp, but before she could get past the thought of warm fire on her damp toes she heard the call of a goose and the flapping of wings overhead. Her eyes turned skyward as she slowly pulled the bowstring taut.

With the nails of her fingers all but brushing her cheek, she peered through the parting of reeds awaiting the sight of the geese skimming over the reflective water.

[Nustril]

A mountain goat trotted into view. Its little hooves clop clop clopped pleasantly over the rocks as it moved to drink from the brook. Nustril allowed it a few more moments to lower its guard. The creature checked the area, perhaps sensing that something was wrong. Nustril's nostrils flared. It appears that this was not going to be as easy as he'd hoped.

Both beasts moved with such ferocity that they left behind fibers of hair where they stood but a few moments before. Nustril's pounce was too far to the right. His left claw caught the fur of his prey but failed to make purchase in the flesh. Using its formidable horns the panicked goat caught the tiger in the chin with a bucking charge, and then scampered quickly up the seemingly sheer face of the cliff beneath which he had hidden.

While shaking the stars from his eyes and choking down the need to whimper from the pain, Nustril admired the goat's ability to scale the precarious rocks. He noted to himself that if he ever needed some help moving through the mountains again he would try to find a kelvic goat. Surely there were some, even if he had never met them.

His pride was unharmed by the encounter. Even the greatest of the cats missed more prey than they caught. This was the way of things. Were every hunt a success then there would be no zest in life. Of course, there would also be no swollen jaws. Food for thought, as he hunkered back down into his hiding place to await the arrival of his next victim.

[Cypress]

The tip of the goose's foot began to drag a small wake in the glassy surface of the lake. In the formation of a small inverted 'v', there followed six others, each drawing its own signature on plane of the water. She contemplated that it might have been wiser to try for the geese as they were overhead with the greatest part of their body exposed to her. A fine time to think of that now. She shook her head, lowering her eyes to the ground as she considered her attack.

The aspect of bow had not changed, so why not take a shot, the worst that could happen was a miss. She slowly blew all the air from her lungs and focused on the nearest goose. A fraction of movement released the bowstring and the arrow flew from her hiding place with a soft woosh as it cut through the air toward the goose. In spite of her care in keeping silent, the birds were alerted, and began flapping an alarm to their companions and bright orange feet began to paddle across the water marking their takeoff. Her arrow sliced into the water with the precision of a tailor's needle and disappeared.

"Damn." She blew out a puff of air and slumped back. As disappointing as the mis-shot was, it was more troublesome that now she must swim to retrieve her arrow. Her eyes scanned the surface looking for anything that marred the plane of smooth water. She saw nothing. Curious, she set her bow carefully aside and stripped of those clothes that would not readily dry in the warm air. She waded toward the spot she had last seen her arrow, using landmarks on the shoreline to keep her perspective. When she reached her destination, the water was well past her height and she moved her arms and feet slowly beside and beneath her to keep herself suspended.

Using her arms, she spun in the water, still searching the surface. She became more and more puzzled the longer she remained. She had always known arrows to float, held aloft by the density of the wooden shaft.

Finally, the tip of the fletching broke the surface of the water and she nodded, wondering if she'd just missed it. She swam toward it, reaching out as she neared to catch the arrow in her hand, her fingers barely touched it and the arrow jerked against her hand. With a surprised squeal she propelled herself away from the arrow just as it disappeared under the water.

Her chin was pulled close to her chest as she stared wide eyed at the empty spot. Very soon a smile began to break through her surprise, and she began to laugh. He will not believe this.. She pushed the hair from her face as a hearty laugh overtook her. This time when the arrow's shaft appeared, she grasped it firmly and lifted it from the water, thrilled to reveal a rather healthy sized fish flopping on the other end.

[Nustril]

Tick tock tick tock tick tock...

With the way that the tip of Nustril's tail was twitching, one would expect it to make that noise. Instead it swished silently. His paws remained in their stationary position and the only other movement he allowed was the slow lift and fall of breathing. If he had to wait for another two days he would not leave this spot without at least a squirrel clutched in his jaws.

Several smaller creatures appeared in search of water. Nustril considered them too insignificant for him to break his cover just yet. A tiny lizard sashayed over the smooth rock and directly into the brook. His dried and cracked scaled immediately took on a glossy sheen as the water moisturized them. Opening its little mouth, pink tongue glistening wetly in the sunlight, it gulped up little bugs and droplets of water with wild abandon. Just the sight of it made Nustril jealous.

Twitchy the lizard, as he had come to be known nearly an hour later, kept the tiger company for some time. Occasionally he would surface and find a dry rock to sun himself on before once again sliding into the water to hunt. Their friendship, and Nustril's vicarious entertainment, was cut abruptly short when a hawk swooped down upon the rocks and left only a bloody stain where Twitchy had been sunbathing. Well, isn't that a shame?

Another hawk, or perhaps the same bird which devoured poor Twitchy, swooped down a few minutes later to clean its beak and drink from the stream. Once again Nustril remained stationary. It was unlikely that he would be able to catch a bird in his jaws. Besides, he was not interested in finding out what would happen if he let those talons and that beak anywhere near his eyes.

A glimmer of hope arrived in the pitter pattering of small hooves moving through water. Yet another goat had arrived while Nustril was daydreaming, and had taken the liberty of stepping into the stream. The cat's body froze. A cloud slowly shifted above their position. Blinding light struck the stream, dazzling the goat and causing the wary animal to blink.

Death Struck!

Leaping out and up Nustril pounced directly on the goat's side. Bowling the animal over and into the water, he wrestled with it briefly before getting a solid grip on its throat. Moving his back legs into position he gripped its flesh with every claw and raked viciously, gripping the throat and refusing to release it. Slowly the struggles ceased.

[Cypress]

As she made her way back to the shore, the arrow quivered in her hand, shaken by the thrashing fish. She waded the last distance to her belongings and the fish, having exhausted most of its energy, hung in a crescent on the end of her arrow. On the shore, she braced her hand against the belly of the fish and pulled her arrow free, it flopped out of her hand, dancing into the grass until it finally lay still. Just to be safe, she took her dagger and while holding the fish upright gave its head a quick, solid, crack with the blunt side of her blade, ending its suffering.

She gathered a handful of reeds and laid them flat on the ground, then took the fish and used the reeds as a wrap, securing it with yet another reed before placing it in her pack.

She took a few moments to wring out her clothes, slipped on her breeches and took her spot in waiting once more. As she sat, she raked her fingers through her sopping hair, braiding it quickly to get it out of her way. A glance to her pack every now and again brought a smile to her face.

The waiting began, as before, with arrow notched and ready to fly. A hawk circled overhead, she watched its precision as it sliced through the air above. Her respect for the other hunter would never allow her to take aim at it, but she did enjoy the opportunity to observe. It flew back toward the starting location of her hunt, and she wondered briefly if Nustril would now have the chance to admire its technique.

The shadows began to grow longer as she continued to wait, her hair and clothes had dried, and the sun was beginning to add a healthy glow to her exposed skin.

This time they came from the opposite direction, heading directly toward her in their approach. There were eleven this time, clustered in another loose 'v'. She lifted her bow, targeting the lead goose, waiting patiently until he began his descent. His body extended, dropping below the plane of his wings which had spread wide to catch the air and slow his speed, splayed feet reached for the water and she released her arrow. Holding her breath, she watched as it flew. It bit into the exposed chest of the goose, knocking it back and sending it out of control. For a moment, it flailed, flapping wildly in an erratic attempt at flight, then it suddenly went limp, falling like a stone to splash into the lake.

[Nustril]

For the rest of his life Nustril would be sure to warn young kelvic of this day. Pearls of wisdom would be dispensed to younger hunters with the same ease that clouds dispense water upon the open plains. Though he considered it to be an important piece of advice, it was in fact only a single sentence. Sometimes the simplest sentences are the most powerful. "Never kill a goat when you have to carry it down a mountain."

The butt and back left leg of the goat were covered with dirt and torn by the sharp edges of mountain rock. Nustril kept a firm grip on its throat, but it pulled his neck to a funny angle when he dragged it. Though he had finished his hunting much sooner than Cypress it would take him twice the time to reach their camp. Every few minutes he was forced to stop and catch his breath. A long pink tongue contrasted sharply with the deep black of his fur, as drool dripped from the end of it and gathered at his feet.

Half the distance to the camp the neck of the goat already looked as if he had been worrying at it for the better half of a week. The fur was coming off in clumps, and what was still attached happened to be matted heavily with slobber and stuck firmly to the skin. One of the poor beasts eyes had popped out on the journey. Nustril would not admit it, but he had stumbled while navigating a precarious ledge. The stumble had sent both he and the goat falling several feet toward the ground. Rocks do not like the eyeballs of dead animals.

When finally he reached the camp he flopped down next to the oxen and lay still for some time. So did the goat.

[Cypress]

The rest of the geese scattered as their companion fell, dispersing into the sky in a panic. Cypress stood when the splash of the goose in the water reached her ears, and once more removed her breeches to wade into the cool lake. The water felt smooth and refreshing against her sun-baked skin, and when it got deeper she raised her arms and dove, slicing through it without breaking the surface. When she emerged, she had closed most of the distance to the goose, only needing a few strokes until she could seize the arrow and return to the shore.

Unlike the fish, the goose was dead, for which she gave silent thanks. Swimming back to the shore she noted the weight of it and was quite satisfied with her conquest. Once ashore she removed the arrow from the goose and made a sling around its neck that she draped on her shoulder for ease in carrying. She dressed, gathered her gear and paused, taking a look at the little lake, a brief chance to enjoy the beauty of it all. It was so calm, like a painting rather than real life, she and Nustril ought to return here one day, just to enjoy it.

With her bow, pack and goose slung over her shoulder she let out a long slow whistle. Because there was not a breath of wind it carried in all directions as though the sound had been magnified. Dolanne's head snapped away from nomming on the sweet blades of grass and she turned toward Cy. She jerked her chin toward her mistress and began to gallop toward her.

Cypress greeted her horse with a nuzzle along her cheek, and a soft coo in her ear. She draped the pack over Lanny's back until she could mount her, then placed it back on her own shoulder.

"Back to camp with us." She compressed her knees and the stryder began to move. As she rode, Cy released any braids she had tied, freeing her dark hair so it might dry on her journey back to camp. Looking overhead, she saw the hawk once more and together, on land and mid air, they traveled.