Greenhorn (Kallian)

by **Colt** on June 1st, 2013, 5:34 pm

She seemed content with the silence, for a time. Minutes passed, and his pace became just a bit slower; it would be another half-hour, at least, before they caught up to their quarry, and his quick jog would tire them both far too quickly. He looked quickly darted from side to side, and in a few moments he caught the two dark specks that hovered just within visual contact. They shimmered in and out of the golden grass like twinkling stars, but he knew that they were there, and that gave him some small degree of comfort.

She cleared her throat, but he gave no indication that he had heard. She paused, then…

“Um… my name is Kallian, by the way. Windrunner of the Diamond clan.”

Again, he said nothing. He did not turn from their path or acknowledgement of her statement, but beneath his stoicism he was mulling over her name, learning it and carefully tucking it away for later use. It would no doubt become important in the future.

Something caught his eye ahead, something that was not right. He slowed suddenly and held up his hand; stop.

The bison’s trail had been overrun by what appeared to be a small herd of pronghorn. The tracks had been trampled beyond sight, even for his eyes.

Wait, he said, coming to a full halt to examine the area.

by **Kallian Windrunner** on June 5th, 2013, 9:06 pm

The strange man did not reply to her introduction, which left her with a feeling of rejection. She frowned and nearly began to scold him again, but stopped after thinking further. Perhaps he was waiting until after they caught their prey. Perhaps he wasn’t interested. Was it fair to push him? She wondered if he would just draw even further away with prodding.

Before she could continue her thoughts, his paced slowed and he gave her a signal to stop. She did so, watching him intently.

He told her to wait, which was strange. This hunter had been intent on such a quick pace; something must be wrong. Following his lead, she dropped to the ground and gazed at the tracks.

The trail they had been pursuing had essentially died, at least for the immediate area. Running her hand over the imprints, she let out a concerned sigh. She stood and began to look out at the grasses, scanning the tops for movement.

Glancing at the man, she raised her right hand to sign as she spoke, voice low. “Do you think they were running from something?” Fear. Chase. Enemy. Close. Danger?

by **Colt** on June 5th, 2013, 11:21 pm

The hunter came to kneel in the center of the disturbance, frowning in thought.

“Do you think they were running from something?”

He glanced at the woman in time to catch her string of signs, then shook his head. Perhaps it would have been better if they had been; running beasts had long strides, and calm ones had short strides that had a habit of thoroughly meandering over every available bit of space. No, these pronghorn had been grazing, and so the ground around them was quite confused.

He sighed bitterly. No, calm. Unconcerned, no danger. Eating. Still, it made the bison impossible to track farther. He jabbed the ground irritably with his toe; a bison hide would have been a prize to bring home, indeed.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to abandon his hunt entirely—they’d just have to kill something else, and now they didn’t even have to search. He returned to his feet, irritation in his posture, and turned to instead follow the herd. Once at the edge of the clearing of trampled grass he turned, almost as an afterthought, and both pointed out the new path to Kallian and gestured for her to follow.

This time, however, his step was drastically different. Where the bison had been far ahead of him, the pronghorn herd had moved through only recently; five to ten minutes, if he was correct in his estimate. That meant that they were close, very close, because grazing herds never moved quickly. His step was now slower, more calculating, hunched so that the tall grass would shield him from unwanted attention. His eyes were narrowed; no longer did they dance from one side to another—they were fixed firmly on the flattened trail before them. He didn’t look at Kallian, but he signed very careful, calm, don’t rush with one hand as he carefully drew a javelin from his back with the other.

by **Kallian Windrunner** on June 6th, 2013, 6:57 am

The man shook his head and signed that the pronghorns had been grazing, sighing with frustration. She looked down again and knelt to feel the prints. They were close together, which definitely made sense. If they had been running, the amount of prints so close together would only be possible with an immense herd. The grasses around them dismissed this particular idea. It had been trampled, yes, but were not in complete disarray.

She stood and ran a hand through her loose hair before lifting the heavy locks to feel the wind on her neck. Watching, she waited for him to decide what exactly they were going to do, seeing as their trail was destroyed. He pointed and she glanced at the tracks. They were to follow the pronghorn herd.

They continued on, slower than before. Where he had been brisk and hard to follow before, the strange man was now slow and careful and made sure his body did not tower above the grass. She followed behind and mimicked his steps. Unlike before, she was able to keep her feet quiet due to their new pace and had no issues keeping close to his tail. He signed for caution. Though he could not see her, Kallian gave a brief nod.

Silent, she moved to his side. She drew an arrow and brought it to the rest on the bow, slightly bringing back the string. Her eyes lifted from the trail and peered over the tall grass.

The tracks had been fresh; that much she could tell. The herd would not be very far ahead and she was prepared. It would not take too much effort to bring one of the beasts down, which was… slightly unsatisfying. Perhaps she would shoot her own while the man slew his choice.

Her eyes narrowed at movement in the grasses ahead.

Both of her hands were taken due to her bow and the readied arrow, so she clicked her tongue softly to get the man’s attention before nodding toward the disturbance.

by **Colt** on June 13th, 2013, 6:03 am

He crept through the grass with careful, practiced caution. He knew that the herd was near—the tracks were getting fresher with each step. His spine curled into a half-crouch; the grass was tall enough to mask an approach, and the taller he stood the better he could catch a glimpse of their quarry. The challenge he had dealt to Kallian was gone from his body; now, his eyes burned with single-minded determination. The world fell away, and then there was nothing but the predator and his prey.

Which was unfortunate, as Kallian’s soft attempt at his attention fell on deaf ears. So close to the herd, he was dead to any world save that of his hunt; the subtle movement in the grass that belonged to no antelope did not fill him with the concern it would have.

The herd was around the next bend, he could feel it in his bones. He sank into a deeper crouch, hugging the inner side of the curving trail to minimize his chances of being seen. Then…

… there. An orange hide peeked from the foliage, and he stopped. The thing was happily ripping up grass, oblivious to the world around it. For now. He knew well enough that soon enough the beast would raise its head, searching for anything that might wish to harm it or its fellows, and he did not have any wish to alert it to his presence. With painstaking movements he snuck into the grass that was still tall and unturned, where it would not see him. Another step forward, and he could see others; a second, and he could almost see all of them. It was a large herd, indeed; something about twenty, he quickly assumed.

He didn’t search for the fattest or sleekest; he could trust his javelin—mostly—but distance had never agreed with him. There was, however, a young buck grazing near enough to his rustling curtain that he could catch an almost guaranteed strike; it was no bison, but it would have to do. He tensed, ever so carefully drawing back his arm to throw.

by **Kallian Windrunner** on June 19th, 2013, 2:56 am

Kallian felt frustration as he seemingly ignored her soft call, but let it go; they came upon the herd almost immediately. She watched the pronghorns with narrowed eyes and let her instincts take over. Practiced footsteps became lighter and quieter, but she continued to follow the man to keep behind his cover.

Her eyes scanned the closest of the herd, looking for a decent sized buck to take home. She glanced at her fellow hunter and followed his gaze, her eyes settling on his chosen prey. It was close and an easy target. She did not watch as he raised his javelin in preparation; instead, Kallian quickly looked through the pronghorns.

Distance was not an issue for her, as her longbow could shoot an arrow across the grazing grounds without too much effort. Her windmarks covered her hands and forearms, hinting at her skill with the bow; though she had had issues earlier with the birds, these were much larger targets. Easy prey.

Blue-green eyes settled on a husky buck, large and well-fed. He was older from the way he moved; she could not see the distinct muscle lines associated with the younglings. He would make a fine meal, she realized. He was a good thirty yards away, perhaps, near the end of the little field the pronghorns had created. It was a painfully easy shot. The swirling hurricane mark between her shoulder blades pulsed momentarily. The breeze shifted to stand at their backs, blowing with their weapons rather than against them.

Kallian slowly came out of her crouch. Readying her arrow, she drew back the string with toned and practiced muscles; she lifted the bow slightly so the arc would allow the arrow to pass above the other animals; she aimed as she pulled the string taut and, within a heartbeat, let the arrow fly.

It struck true.

The pronghorn fell with a large thud, arrow protruding from its neck. It kicked its legs in death throes and attempted to let out some kind of cry, though was unable. The herd reacted immediately. Heads rose, legs kicked. They ran with fear, survival instincts fueling their fervor.

by **Colt** on September 14th, 2013, 8:36 pm

It was only with vague awareness that the hunter came to remember that there was someone else with him as the Kallian raised her bow. He paused in his own strike, remaining poised to throw—if she shot first, his buck would probably flee, as would hers if he took the first shot. To strike together, however, would keep either from losing their prey, and it was with this in mind that he kept watch on her in the corner of his eye, waiting for the telltale whistle of an arrow.

It came in mere heartbeats, heralding a dark line that slid through his vision with the speed of a striking snake. The hunter heaved to send his own weapon flying, and was rewarded when it sank deep into the creature's waist, right in front of a hind leg. The deer let out a pained and frightened cry, tried to leap forward and was stalled by the javelin. The buck tumbled violently to the ground, and the rest of the herd took flight. The hunter didn’t give a second thought, to their escape; he had a prize to tend to already. The buck struggled at his approach, and even managed to drag itself a yard or so before he was upon it. With movements made fluid by practice, he straddled the buck’s back, forcing it to the ground and took hold of its horns. The creature tried to thrash, but the man’s greater weight and strength held it fast, and with a quick slice to the throat it was over.

The pronghorn stilled, as if suddenly tired, and the hunter’s grip turned from combative to gentle. He cradled the dying beast’s head as it relaxed for the last time, uncaring of the blood that stained his fingers and puddled on the dirt beneath. The slash had been clumsy, but effective, and within moments the thing was dead.

by **Taylani** on November 10th, 2013, 9:43 pm

Sharhar DawnWhisper

Skills :

Lores :

Kallian Windrunner

Skills :

Lores :

Notes :

Closed Greenhorn (Kallian)