A Hopeful Hunt.

[Funestae Mortis]

Spring 5th - Outskirts of Ravok. The sun hadn't yet dawned on their small campsite, though Funestae awoke with a pleasant smile on his face. As quietly as possible he slipped into his clothes, and although he didn't want to disturb its sleep - it was necessary for him to release Hope from its cage. He reduced the canvas wall to leave an opening for him to climb through, and grasped the door to Tristana's chamber firmly. Knowing better than to open it, he tapped it quickly - and whispered at her to wake up. The darkness provided a much needed cover for the owl and his master, and to hunt efficiently they required the dark before dawn. Funestae grew eager at the sounds of animals lightly scurrying around outside, perfect game for his newely obtained raptor. As he exit the camp, he embraced the dark - allowing a moment for his eyes to adjust properly. Grasping his stilleto firmly, he reached into his pocket for some of his rations. Having as little as half a week's worth of rations remaining, he decided he'd train his bird with them, to aid him in the gathering of food in the future. To begin with, Funestae shoved a handful in his mouth, chewing it promptly before swallowing it. After this, he allowed the bird its share, the bird took it without complaining. He then turned his vision back toward the tent, and awaited his companion.

[Tristana]

Tristana awoke as Funestae tapped on the canvas of her chamber of the tent. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, before getting up quickly, dressing, before brushing her hair and applying kohl to her eyes, before picking up her grandmother's art supply kit in her backpack case she felt like sketching later. She walked out of the tent, closing the canvas doors to the tent. She followed in the direction in which she saw Funestae walking out of the camp, slinging the backpack over her shoulder. Tristana decided this would be a good time to change, when the path through the trees widened enough for her dire polar bear body to run through. She tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack, summoning up all of her energy from the core of her body. Her eyes widened with concentration and she lost feeling in her legs as she ran so it felt as though she was flying. Her hair was flowing in the breeze over her back showing her shoulders, which were tensed and ready. She felt herself change. Although it only took a few seconds, she could feel as her body seemingly unfolded, her dire polar bear form opening like a white flower from her heart, unfolding and changing her entire form, her body changing and growing to her full polar bear size. She felt the soft breeze now flowing along her back, her huge paws sinking into the soft dewy soil and the moonlight glistening on her white fur, twinkling almost like starlight. She felt a surge of energy and pushed herself to run as fast as she could, catching up with Funestae at a faster pace, the night slipping by as Tristana went off, preparing for the hunt.

[Talon Shadowfoe]

Talon was lingering at the edge of the clearing when he heard the folding of the canvas of a tent behind him. His body was half concealed by both the tree-trunk itself and the shadow of the tree, though it was slight in the moonlight. Peering over his shoulder - Talon rested his eyes on the yet-to-adjust Funestae and then turned away, facing the darkness again. Walking forwards away from the camp, Talon reached up for the branch of a tree and began climbing. His arms moved in simple-ladder like motions up a meter of the tree trunk before he came to a stop, there was little to use a holds to climb further and he had to check the opposite side of the trunk. Several moments of feeling the bark later, Talon grasped a thick bough and swung his body around the core of the tree. Now hanging from the other side of the tree - Talon used the newly found branches as a means to further his distance from the ground. Now a good several meters from the floor, Talon brought his body up onto a branch with a heave and sat there - his legs dangling off the edge. With a swiveling motion he brought up one of his legs and let it dangle the opposite side of the branch, effectively straddling the limb of the tree at this point. He reached back and removed his back-pack, positioning it on the branch in between his legs. As a final means to secure his position in the tree, Talon leaned his back against the trunk of the tree, guiding his cloak to one side prior to this - to stop the needles sinking into the bark and becoming dull. Talon closed his eyes and listened to his surroundings, there was a soft noisiness to the early dawn that he found extremely calming.

[Funestae Mortis]

He'd fall back slightly, allowing the polar bear to keep his pace. Before he began the hunt, he leant in to the polar bear's ear - stroking its back softly as he did so. "We're going to be quiet", he whispered softly, "We don't want to scare game". With that, he plucked a tendon from some of the meaty rations, a piece small enough to tease the bird, and held it in his hand while he attached the jesses. He produced the leather from his pocket, and began to strap it to the hawk's back, harnessing him, as though fastening a seat belt. The bird was a killer now, or at least in the mind of the Myrian. Although a mere owl, the bird was the only thing (besides the skeleton coin) that he had brought from his homeland, and he was determined to make a hunter out of it. Once the jesses were attached, he released the bird into the air, allowing it to circle him. Then, he'd throw the tendon forward, it landing at least 10ft away from his person. The bird became a rocket. It dived forward, suppressing the tendon with surprising speed. The tendon was ambushed, and once in the hawk's grasp, Funestae yanked on the jesses. With a shriek, the owl conformed, retreating from its position and returning to the Myrian. Fune praised him, plucking the tendon from the owl's grasp and allowing it the pleasure of eating it. He stroked the bird's wing softly. "And again", he urged. Repeating this technique until the bird had almost mastered retrieving the tendon. While the training occured, Funestae gestured at a much larger game, a deer, trotting some 30ft from their position. Although not necessarily hidden, they were concealed by the darkness and their silence, knowing only of the whereabouts of the animal by it's sound. His intention was for Tristana to follow it, and once communicating that successfully, returned to his bird and its training. Funestae was out of meat, and insisted that he try the bird with real game - and so he waited. With the bird on his arm, and the leather glove attached, he remained there, awaiting the perfect moment to release the raptor. It tilted its head, anticipating, curious and aware. There was a scurrying amongst the leaves, and Funestae practically threw the owl into activity, urging for it to swoop upon the sound. The bird surely enough dived onto something. The sound stopped. Hope emanated from Funestae's heart. And the bird returned, with its dessert! The small critter struggled in the birds grasp, and Funestae grasped at its neck to crush its spine. Once taken care of, Funestae allowed the bird its prey - showing utmost pride for the hawks work, and praising it in any way possible. Funestae hadn't been more proud in his life, but he still had work to do, before the bird would become a true hunter.

[Tristana]

Tristana quickly caught up with Funestae and came to a halt at his side, tensing slightly as he stroked her fur with his hand, readying herself. She heard him whisper, "We're going to be quiet, we don't want to scare game" and nodded once in agreement. She waited, watching, and eventually Funestae gestured in another direction into the woods, where she could faintly hear the steps of a deer through the foliage, but it was hidden from sight because of the early morning darkness and the shadows of the tall trees and their boughs. She let her backpack slide silently from her shoulder onto the soft ground, before going of into the forest in pursuit of her prey. She moved quietly in the direction of the deer, listening keenly for it's soft steps, using her sense of smell to her advantage. Her size meant it was difficult to move completely silently, and she had to negotiate distances between trees to make sure her huge body would be able to make it through without disturbing the bushes. Tristana tried her best, moving slowly and quietly, and managed to close the gap between her and the deer significantly without it hearing her or sensing her presence. As she got closer, her heart quickened and her breath became shallow, and she moved a lot slower, being careful not to lose her prey in the last few moments. She moved around in the shadows as the deer stopped to graze on a mossy patch of soil so that she was facing it's left flank, and moved closer, slowly. The scent of the deer was overpowering now on her nose as she focused on it, her front legs tensed and pushed back a little, ready to jump. She stopped 10ft to the side of the animal, still silent in the shadows, unnoticed by the creature. She let out a small grunt, startling the deer, making it prick up it's ears. And then she jumped. Her mouth open and paws out, she leapt into the light, her jaws coming down on the back of the creature's neck, her huge paws digging into the other side of it's neck and stomach. The deer made and effort to struggle, but Tristana's sheer size meant it's windpipe was crushed in her teeth within moments. She held the creature firmly as it struggled, slowly failing, and eventually fell still, before she let go, the carcass falling heavily to the ground. The fur around Tristana's mouth and on her paws was stained red with the deer's hot blood. Her heart was beating hard in her chest and she panted with the adrenaline pumping through her body. After taking a few moments to calm herself, she bent her head down, picking up the deer's limp body in her mouth by it's neck, and slowly carried it carefully back to the spot where she had left Funestae.

[Talon Shadowfoe]

Talon's thighs were tensed around the branch below him to hold himself fast to the bark and also hold his bag in-place on the branch. Reaching into his backpack he produced the black fiddle in it's case and rested it upon his lap. Un-clasping the side of the case, he lifted the lid and then removed both the fiddle and the bow from it. Placing the padded part of the fiddle to the left side of his chin, he braced the wood against his collar bone. In his stirred inner state, Talon found that the sounds he had memorized came to him easily, and he slid his fingers into place upon the neck of the fiddle to create a sad note, an A minor reverberated forth from the small instrument and found it's way just short of the campsite. With the length of the bow, Talon kept the note coming from the violin and with only the bending of two fingers, Talon produced a note at the same pitch, but this time a G note sprung forth from the fiddle. Talon played a few simple chords, producing two or three faster chords and then a slower more drawn out one and eventually after messing up a few chords he began to make a sort of rhythm to suit his mood. Chords blew out from the fiddle all around in short bursts then a series of longer ones, the pitch of the rhythm decreased for a time until almost stopping and then rose again, moving slowly higher and higher until the strings sang with excitement at their suppression, screaming high notes under their entrapment. As the slow playing went on (which was all Talon could manage), He began to hum along with the tune and began to learn the tune he had made instead of simply moving his fingers and following the sound. After a few attempts he managed to repeat the same tune twice in a row and then continue it, enjoying the progress he was making Talon subsided to merely listening to himself play and it became less task and more enjoyment. As his thrill rose, so did the volume of his humming until it broke forth from his lips as a mellow, lyric less song, although most of it was off-key, Talon kept his voice quieter than the violin and made small improvements as he played.

[Funestae Mortis]

Continuing to praise the successful raptor, he'd wander down towards the campsite. The fire had slowly burned out, and the sun rose slowly above the trees - revealing the enthusiasm in Funestae's eyes. As Funestae celebrated the bird's victory, he stroked its feathers. It was then that the Falconer experienced his most daunting situation since leaving Taloba. Relative to its right wing, its left was misshapen, being of irregular pattern and scaled differently. Upon analysing it further, Funestae realised it was a feather disfigurement. Many of the feathers on Hope's left wing had been torn of weathered poorly. He continued to stroke his left wing, attempting to ease the bird's obvious pain. Fuenstae could see it in his eyes then, only just realising its distress. Fortunately for the Myrian, owls do not carry diseases infectious to humans, and Funestae had nothing to worry about while comforting the sickened animal. He soothed the pain for some while, trying to think of the best way to ease the bird's pain. He had few ideas - knowing very little about feather disfigurements. The best thing he could think to do was clip the feather. His over-riding opinion with this matter was that the problem could originate in the base of the feather, and clipping the feather would affect the bird's flight. Clipping the feather wasn't the answer. Funestae was balanced perfectly on the fence; should he leave the bird's wing and allow it to suffer, or sacrifice performance to ease the bird's pain? He had the best idea suddenly, and although couldn't stomach it at first, he knew he'd think of it as the correct decision eventually. He firmly grasped the infected area of the bird, and, with a tight grip, pulled with all his might. The cries were extreme and defeaning. It was as if the bird's wrath was concentrated in its voice, and it possibly was. With shrieks and moans of agony the procedure was completed. Funestae was distraught. He was compelled to believe that somewhere, deep inside the owl, there was relief or gratitude, but ultimately wasn't feeling it. The bird continued to writhe in pain, but before long, the shouting stopped. The bird was cradled now, comfortably and with tender love. He wasn't ready to leave the bird in its cage, and held it in his arms a while longer, grasping for his torn shirt in his bag, he decided to patch the bird's wounds, bandaging them and preventing bleeding. Silence fell on the man and his pet, and their connection became stronger - at least for that moment. Silence became eeriness.

[Tristana]

Tristana slowly made her way back through the undergrowth, the warm deer carcass held firmly in her mouth, being careful not to let too much of it's blood drip on the ground beneath her to avoid wild animals and scavengers from following the scent back to their camp. She could hear Talon's violin playing softly in the treetops far away, bringing a kind of beauty and calm to the slow sunrise of the early morning. She reached the area where she had left Funestae with his owl, finding that he had returned to camp, and flicked her backpack onto her shoulder with one giant paw, before continuing back into camp. She hurried, for the temperature was rising and her polar bear form could not take much heat above zero. She arrived at the camp shortly after, slumping her bag down at the side of the cold, dead fire, the ash being blown softly in the breeze. She lay the carcass down next to that, before beginning to unfold her form to return to being human. She summoned up her strength and her form unfolded once again, changing her form like petals turning over, and a few seconds later it was like she had not been a polar bear at all. The only give away was that the deer's blood still stained her hands, mouth and chin. Tristana called to Funestae and Talon, if they could hear her, that she had returned to camp with the deer, and then walked into her section of the tent through the canvas doors to fetch her waterskin. She came back outside and proceeded to wash her hands and face with what was left in the waterskin, which she made a mental note to refill as soon as she got the chance. She then sat and unpacked her grandmother's artists toolkit from her backpack, pulling out a sheet of paper and sticks of charcoal and began to sketch the campsite, the scene spilling out of her sight, through her hand and on to paper.

[Talon Shadowfoe]

With his hand moving the bow back and forth over the strings of the violin intently, Talon barely noticed the rising sun and temperature around him - the life around him stirring noisily. The bow followed the curvature of the violin strings and made a neat humming noise with the occasional shrieking undertone when Talon lost concentration and did not follow the strings perfectly. As the sun-light melted over him, Talon could barely help notice the majestic sun rise next to him but instead of being distracted by it, it merely fueled his playing with different emotions. Warmer notes were produced from the violin, but with the lack of practice Talon barely knew the notes he wanted and after a while he lowered the violin in resignation, frustration creased his face as his cursed his lacking skill. Placing the Violin and bow messily back into it's case, Talon leaned back against the trunk and let his head rest against it tiredly - peering off towards the sunset besides him. The sun rose above the trees and dragged itself over the tops of the canopy with small steps of a thousand legs. The sun rose up above the horizon in half and already the world was warmed with life, birds flew about and animals of big and small sizes rummaged around on the floor. Talon closed his eyes and felt warmth spread over his face, a faint glowing through his eyelids kept him from sleeping and so he let his voice come forth in gentle, low-waves of sound that were warm to hear. Though he could not push his voice to much higher notes, Talon produced quite a clean, strong accent as he sang and it mirrored his feelings at the sunlight.

[Funestae Mortis]

By then, the bird had already fallen into a deep and relieving sleep. Tristana returned, and Funestae gave her a small nod when she called his name. He tried not to speak, and kept his head down. He knew the bird's pain had been stopped - but felt it in his best interest to keep the bird comfortable, and so removed the training jesses from it and allowed it to perch in its mews. Luckily for Funestae, he'd bought a more expensive perch - allowing for the utmost comfort of the owl. Hope sat quietly. "Well - I suppose we're having deer tonight?" he inquired, aiming his voice at the Kelvic girl. Stepping outside, he inhaled the morning air, the travelled across the campsite to his horse, 'Windhail'. Setting his hand firmly on the horses back, he began to stroke the fur softly. "I'm going for a ride, to Ravok", he started. "I won't be long". Using his hand, already in place, he swung his leg over the horse in a swift, fluent movement. Although unsteady on the horse's back, he managed to ride with fair stability. "Oh, and one more thing", he spoke, turning back to the campsite, "Look after Hope for me!" He tugged lightly on the reins, leading his horse forward toward the city of Ravok. As he rode, he felt the breeze curling his hair behind him, which made a change to the usually annoying, hanging fringe. Before long at all, he was out of sight of the camp completely, and his journey to Ravok had begun. He held his backpack tight on his back, and ensured the saddlebags' stability. Looking forward, he imagined the city when he arrived, and pictured in his head the scenario, and what he wanted to buy.