Date: 5th Summer, 510 AV
Time: 10th Bell
Nalik had risen later than attended that morning, maybe the drinks he had shared in Baultimes Barrel the night before had played their part in the delay. Nevertheless he was awake now, he would just have to make up for his tardiness in a fruitful hunt.
He walked through the makeshift city, annoyance tainting his stride with a heavier landing than normal. The city was busy today. People brushed past him and the noise always irked him a little, or maybe it was just because he was he was moody.
Anyway it would be better in the Sea of Grass. More peaceful.
He shifted the backpack that contained his hunting toolkit so that it didn't sit so heavily on his right shoulder. The bow tied loosely onto it didn't help the comfort of it either. Now scowling AND stamping the moody young Drykas cleared the last pavilion and the totem that marked the outskirts of the city and was finally within the great expanse of Grass.
Peace.
He made is way through the shoulder deep grass for a couple of chimes before he came to a small clearing and looked around for any tel-tale signs that animals were nearby. He wasn't as skilled in tracking as he would have liked, but he still noticed a slight gap in the grass to his right, low down suggesting a rabbit run.
He slowly made he way to the track, instinctively crouching low assuming the classic stalking stance. He knelt down and picked up a tiny brown lump just at the entrence of the distrubance.
Poo. And it smeared across Naliks fingers as he squished it. Still soft.
Now having poo on ones fingers to most people would be slightly distressing. But not to a hunter. To a hunter soft poo is a sign that his quarry had been there recently. And that was good.
Honestly it was!
Nalik smiled to himself, thanking his good fortune that the first track he came across was fresh and slowly followed it, eyes peeled for any signs that the path changed. He kept low, the grass now over his head, and his movements slow trying to minimize the amount of noise he made.
Nalik was not the best tracker, by a long way, so it was inevitable that he missed the slight flatness of grass to his right that indicated the rabbit had taken a different path. Not that this bothered Nalik for he still believed he was following the trail.
Fortunately today luck was on his side and after a couple of chimes the grass started to thin and become shorter until he was once again on the outside of a small clearing. This time in the middle of the clearing was a small mound of grass, holes littering the outside of it, and again the young Drykas smiled.
He had hit the jackpot. A warren! And to make things even better a fat grey colored rabbit sat not far from the entrance to one of the holes, happily nibbling at grass blissfully unaware that someone had designs to turn him into stew.
As silently as possible Nalik released the not holding his bow to his back and held it in his right hand, his left reaching an arrow from his quiver and notching it onto the string of his bow.
In a movement which after years of practice felt as natural as breathing he extended his left arm holding the bow out in front of him in the direction of his target, and rested his index and middle finger against the string so the shaft and flight of the arrow was between the two fingers. His shoulders opened up so the were 90 degrees to his body as he looked down the shaft of the arrow, lining the tip with the body of the rabbit, and pulled the string back to just past his ear, ready to fire.
