Completed [The Bronze Woods] Cottontails

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

Day 60, Season Spring, 505 AV

Later that day...

The real problem, Nate decided, was that the game he hunted might well just simply be out of his ability to hunt. Not that he wasn't able to hit a target the size of a deer, at this point Nate felt confident that he well might be able to. But hunting deer had other problems. Not least of which was the fact that now that he'd contributed to killing one it was possible the herd might have moved on, deeming the area too dangerous to remain in for the time being, meaning he'd have to wait a few days before trying to hunt deer again. Shame.

As Nate strode on toward the forest, he considered the idea of perhaps hunting some of the other animals he'd seen some signs of. But he remembered the lynx attack from a week ago and realized that if he planned to hunt any animal capable of eating him, he needed to be more skilled in the art of locating them before they located him. So no more stumbling right into their dens and letting them get a free ambush off on him. For the time being though, Nate decided to hunt some decidedly less dangerous prey.

Nate stopped near the edge of the wood, deciding to follow the tree-line until he found what he was looking for. Rabbits preferred habitats that were close to cover and nearby their favorite foods, which were usually grasses, clover, broadleaf weeds, and a variety of leafy greens that were more common to the farmlands than to the woods. And while Nate would have been happy to hunt the rabbits off of farmers' fields, they were usually not too happy about strangers on their lands.

"Cover" in this case usually meant dense underbrush. Mulberry bushes were a perennial favorite, although they also favored any dense shrubbery they could dash into at a moment's notice. Nate stopped when he noticed some interesting signs that pointed to a rabbit's nesting ground. Normally, rabbits didn't really leave tracks, as such, since short grass didn't preserve individual tracks very well, but the signs were still there. Small, semicircular patches of shorter grass, evidence of grazing, and trodden soil in a faint hemisphere. Nate knew that rabbits liked to graze within panic distance of their holes, it allowed them to dash for safety at a moment's notice. If there was grazing going on here, then the rabbits must be fairly close.

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

Nate decided to look for further evidence that rabbits had been in the area. He'd already seen the small semicircular grazing circles, evidence that at least a small colony of rabbits existed in the area, so he got down on his hands and knees and began examining the area for droppings. Being on one's hands and knees in the dirt was a dirty, messy business, but then hunting often was a dirty, messy business, and Nate knew better than to let his pride get in the way of getting a good meal for his family. And although a single rabbit wouldn't necessarily be much more than tonight's stew in Lea's pot, at least it was more than they had yesterday.

Random searches was not turning up anything, so Nate decided to use the boring but tried-and-true grid search, going from one end and searching in a line parallel to the treeline, looking for the small, round droppings that would tell him that rabbits were in the area. As he continued to search, he did notice that there were somewhat lighter patches of grass, which could indicate a rabbit run, but he didn't know enough about rabbit runs to know if that was actually a trail or not. Best not to assume, he decided, as he continued his painstaking search.

After half a bell, Nate finally found the first of what was to be a small trail of droppings. They looked like small pebbles at first, but the odor was quite strong at such close distance, giving away that they were in fact rabbit droppings. Once he found one, it was quite easy to follow the trail of droppings to a fairly impressive pile of them, which he knew would probably belong to the rabbit that was the "lookout". Nate was aware that rabbits tended to have one of their number serve as a lookout, who would watch for approaching predators and warn the rest if danger approached. The fact that the lookout was not there indicated that the entire nest had fled as soon as he'd approached. Clearly he needed to be stealthier than he had been if he intended to hunt the small furry creatures.

In any event he was quite certain that rabbits inhabited the area, but now he was fairly certain he'd spooked them and they were now in their holes, not coming out. In order to draw them out, Nate needed one of two things. Either he needed tempting enough bait, or he needed time and patience. He didn't have the former, so really he had to make do with the latter. Sighing, Nate padded over to the tree line again, searching for somewhere fairly out-of-the-way to sit and watch.

He found it in a large oak tree whose trunk had split about a third the way down into to smaller but still very stout branches. It was just high enough for Nate to grab hold of, and with something of an effort, he lifted himself up onto the tree, straddling the trunk like it was the saddle of a horse. The advantage of height gave Nate a good view of the field below, with the dark brown brush at the end of it abutting the trees and the grass becoming increasingly green as it spread further from the forest. The small, now obviously semicircular feeding grounds was mostly visible to Nate's watching eyes, and he settled in for a few bells of waiting.

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

It would be another two bells of excruciatingly boring waiting before Nate would see anything worth paying attention to. As he expected, the furry rabbits had come out of their nests after they probably assumed Nate had left the area. Which he technically had, although from his vantage point in the tree he could still see the field quite clearly. More importantly, he could see the paths the rabbits were taking to get to their usual grazing grounds. As they grazed, the rabbits worked their way outward into the field, until they reached a particular distance, then turned back and grazed back the other way.

Nate suspected this behavior was due to the animal's natural skittishness; it didn't want to go too far from the nest so the path it was taking allowed for rapid retreat in case of danger. Nate knew he should try to slide down the tree as quietly as possible and approach on the ground, but the truth was his legs were aching from their awkward postion and his entire body chafed at having been in the tree for so long. He wasn't sure if he could leave his location in a way that wouldn't frighten off not only every rabbit, but every game animal for miles around. That was if he didn't simply fall from the tree altogether.

So instead he drew an arrow out of his quiver and aimed carefully at the rabbits below. Nate's heart pounded against his ribs, blood rushing past his ears and his vision blurred slightly as he realized that he really, truly could not miss. If he did, the rabbits would scatter and the day's hunting would have been ruined. The rabbit was a much smaller target than he was used to hunting, and he was in a vantage point he was not used to shooting from. All of his practice had been against waist-high targets on level ground. Now he was shooting down at a target that was far smaller, and further away, than he was used to.

His usual knuckle-adjustment for range was useless here. He was quite sure his increased elevation would render it unuseable; and even if it were it would take far too much time to calibrate what distance was what knuckle on the fly for every possible elevation difference. Once again, he had to rely on instinct; he had to feel the shot, and figure out how high, or not as the case may be, he needed to aim in order to hit his target.

Taking a few deep breaths, Nate nocked the arrow to the string. He had to calm down, make the blood stop rushing past his ears and disrupting his shot. If he didn't do that, the nervousness would cause tension in his arms and shoulders and ruin the shot just as surely as bad aim would. He was already not the most precise archer even when in the Pits shooting at logs, if he allowed himself to get overly anxious there was literally no chance he'd hit anything.

After about ten ticks of breathing in through the nose, and out through the mouth, Nate could finally hear his heartbeat slow to something reasonable. He looked down, and saw that the rabbits had moved a little further inward. Clearly they'd finished grazing the outside area of their grounds, and were now working their way in. Since he'd already nocked the arrow, Nate simply raised the bow, and drew it at the same time in one fluid motion. He brought the arrow up to his eye, having drawn it to his bicep as usual, and aimed at the rabbit closest to the tree line. The theory being, that even if he missed, he might be able to snap off one more shot at one of the rabbits further out.

He could feel his heart starting to beat faster again, and Nate willed it to be still, with limited success. Even with improved aim, the rabbit was such a small and fast target, and to this day he had not once successfully hit a moving target. Nonetheless, the rabbits were there, and he needed food tonight. Nate released his hand, and the arrow leaped out of the bow, going in an almost straight line straight for the furry cottony-tailed rabbit below.

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

It missed, of course. Nate knew it would miss, although actually seeing how far from the actual rabbit his arrow landed made his blood boil and his head steam. Seriously?! He missed by that much? The rabbits obviously panicked by the sudden intrusion and took to their heels, and Nate barely had time to retrieve another arrow from his quiver, nock it and fire. He didn't even really have time to aim properly; the rabbits had scattered as soon as the first arrow had missed, most running into the brush but the ones further away had longer to run. There was one, who looked more like a hare than a rabbit with a light-brown coloring, that had been the furthest out, and was the one Nate was now targeting.

The rabbit was scurrying quickly, and Nate had mere ticks to judge the correct distance. He also needed to take into account the fact that he needed to lead the target based on where it would be rather than where it was, but all this passed like a blur in his head as he released the second arrow almost in a panic. As he expected, that one went wild too, not even coming close to hitting the rabbit which made a mad dash for safety, finding it in the thick mulberry bush, whose dark brown branches hid the little petcher and his friends from harm and from view.

A colorful string of curses erupted from Nate's lips as he clambered down from his tree. Of course, he hadn't really expected to hit anything, but it was disheartening to see how badly he had missed. He really needed an immense amout of practice, but for the moment he really didn't know what else to do but to keep trying to shoot at things and hoping he hit at least some of the time. But it was starting to look like he was going to hit none of the time. Nonetheless, no amount of cursing was going to cause the rabbits to appear, so Nate marched over, grumbling as he went, to fetch his two wayward arrows.

As he bent over to retrieve them, Nate wondered if there was any other way to catch the little buggers. He recalled that some of the hunters he'd talked to used traps, and it probably would work better than trying to shoot them honestly. Especially for animals as small as a rabbit, being shot with an arrow meant that much of the hide would likely be damaged beyond repair. Not to mention, they were so fast that proper aim would only happen when Nate was far more experienced and skilled than he actually was. Still, he didn't know how to make traps; and even if he did, he had no idea how to set them.

Nate decided to try something he heard discussed when he spoke with other hunters in Syliras. Taking a few steps from where he knew the rabbits had run, he walked parallel to it for about three ticks, then waited for around half a chime. Then he repeated the action a second time. Walked forward a bit, then waited. No movement from the brush. Nate tried yet again. Walk, wait. Apparently, according to the hunters, rabbits were such skittish creatures that they tended to get spooked by the waiting. For whatever reason, the pause made them think they had been spotted, and they might make a mad dash for it that a hunter could take advantage of.

Nate had already removed an arrow from his quiver, and nocked it to the string but hadn't drawn it yet. It was too soon; he could keep the bow drawn but that would be both exhausting and unnecessary. There was still no movement from the underbrush. It was possible the rabbits had already entered their hole and weren't coming out for at least another few bells, which meant the day had, once again, been wasted.

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

Nate walked forward a few steps more, still looking intently at the tree line, arrow at the ready. It had been nearly half a bell now, and he was ready to give up. "Walking" the rabbits seemed to have resulted in failure, but he stuck with it, staying stock-still for another thirty ticks, counting them off in his head as he waited to see if there was anything worth shooting at coming out of the underbrush. Still nothing. This was a waste of time.

Of course, the moment Nate removed the arrow from the string, a rabbit dashed out of the brush, its fuzzy tail bouncing behind it as it scurried furiously across the open field. Shyke! Nate hurriedly re-nocked his arrow and drew the bow while bringing it to bear, but the rabbit was rapidly gaining distance on him, bounding off across the field toward a tall patch of grass. Nate knew that rabbits rarely strayed far from their holes, so this one would have to turn around eventually once it sensed the danger had passed.

By the time Nate had fired the arrow, the cottontail had long fled the location the missile ended up impacting, dashing into the tall grass. Nate swore quietly. He couldn't even afford to try to retrieve his arrow, not yet. But he knew the rabbit was in there, somewhere, and that it would not stay in the grass very long. Out there, away from its normal feeding grounds, the tiny skittish animal would be very nervous and would want to make a return mad-dash back home. And Nate just needed to wait it out.

The patch of tall grass did not extend very far, and Nate knew he could just go stomping into it and it would probably frighten the rabbit into scurrying back out, but that tactic had two problems. First, even if he succeeded in flushing out the rabbit there would be too little time to take aim and fire and would result in another wasted shot. And second, he would have next to no warning to tell him from which direction the rabbit was going to dash out from. In situations like this, every tick counted.

So he decided to do what he did before. He walked a few steps, then froze, counting down the ticks until half a chime passed. This time he not only nocked the arrow but had drawn the bow back slightly. Not all the way, but halfway, so that he wouldn't have much further to draw if he needed to. His eyes were focused keenly upon the grass, and his ears were listening for the tell-tale rustling that indicated the rabbit might be trying to make a run for it.

For nearly ten chimes this continued, and Nate's patience was beginning to wear thin. He knew that, as a hunter, patience was usually key. Most people thought hunters were all stalking down prey and jumping on their backs, hacking away with their hunting blades while whooping like madmen. That or super-deadly archers who could hit birds right out of the sky with their pinpoint accuracy. Now, some hunters were like that, but for the majority, hunting consisted of mostly waiting. And when the waiting was over, one usually was wishing they were still waiting.

The grass rustled, and Nate's ears pricked up. His head swiveled almost painfully in that direction, eyes sharp and bow at the ready. This time he was ready to shoot as soon as he saw any movement from the grass. A tick passed. Two ticks. Nothing. Nate didn't lower his bow, however. He stood, bow drawn to his bicep and raised to his eye, left eye squeezed shut as he watched the grass patch. Now ten ticks had passed. The rabbit had to be getting nervous. But the grass remained stubbornly still. Even the wind seemed to be holding its breath.

Suddenly, with a burst of speed and a blur of fur and legs, the rabbit made a dash for freedom. It sprang from the grass like an arrow from Nate's bow, sprinting across the field back toward the bushes lining the trees. Nate had only ticks to aim, but at least he'd been aiming at the right place so as soon as he heard the rustling he'd already released the arrow from the bow and was reaching for another. The arrow landed mere inches from the rabbit and in its panic to get away it turned sharply, changing direction and heading for another patch a few feet up. Nate had managed to draw his arrow, but it was too late. He lifted the bow just in time to see the stupid petching rabbit disappear into yet another tall patch of grass.

He groaned aloud. Not again!

[Nathaniel Deveraux]

Well this was embarrassing. And frustrating. And annoying. Nate gritted his teeth and retrieved the arrows he'd fired, almost yanking them out of the ground and angrily stuffing them back into his quiver. Seriously?! He didn't even know what to think anymore. It was absurd to think that the stupid rabbit had foiled him yet again, and now it was doing the same trick as before. So what to do? Did he try to flush it out this time by stomping the grass and hoping it sprang from its hiding place? Pray that he had sufficient time to aim and shoot, before it reached the safety of the trees? Did he give up, and search for easier game?

Nate really hated the idea of just giving up. He'd already spent so much time doing this, already wasted so much of his day hunting these damnable rabbits, he would be damned if he'd let this one just get away from him. It didn't really occur to him in his enraged state that even if he'd succeeded, he would still only have a single rabbit, whose pelt would likely be badly damaged by the arrowhead and would basically only serve as a single meal and little else, and that he'd either have to do this again for the next three bells with small chance of success, or else go hunting something larger and more substantial.

No, in his state of anger, Nate didn't care. He would catch that petching hopping rodent if it was the last thing he did. Deciding to take the same approach as before, he stalked the edge of the grass, eyes focused while he reached behind him to pull yet another arrow from the quiver. He supposed the one good thing here was that none of his arrows had gone so wild as to become irretrievable. He mollified himself with telling himself at least he could look on the bright side of things.

Nate continued to stalk for another ten chimes, pausing every few ticks to wait have a chime before continuing. He knew that rabbit was in there, and more importantly, that it had to dash out in order to go home. And it wanted to, Nate was sure of it. At this point it must be a nervous wreck, having been flushed from the tall grass twice now. Nate's fingers itched, unconsciously twitching as they fingered the bow and the arrow. He really wanted to just get this over with, but he knew that as always with anything to do with hunting, patience was the key.

At the end of ten chimes, there was yet another rustle, and Nate immediately snapped his arm up, his left hand already pulling the arrow back. He'd be ready this time, petch it! At first, there was no movement after the rustle, and Nate was glad he hadn't fired too early and wasted an arrow and likely frightened the rabbit into hiding for another ten chimes. But as the ticks slowly passed, Nate could hear his molars grinding. This stupid rabbit was wasting so much of his time! At this point, only Nate's own stubborn pride was keeping him there. Truthfully, the rabbit wasn't even worth the effort he was expending hunting it at that point.

A blur of brown and white. The tall ears of the rabbit appeared, large frightened eyes wild as it fled for the safety of the trees. Nate's fingers worked instantly, releasing the arrow from its confinement and letting it sail across the chasm. He didn't dare to breathe as it arced toward its target... and missed. Missed completely, as the rabbit managed to dodge the lethal missile by a good five or six inches, and ran into the brush, toward the trees, and home, and safety.

Five bells. Five petching bells. And Nate so far had caught all of absolutely nothing. He just couldn't help it. Nate threw his head back and screamed in frustration and rage; a flock of birds that had been nestling in the trees squawked in protest at the sudden noise and fluttered off in a flurry of feathers. As he lowered his head, Nate stared forlornly at the trees. Hunting rabbits was over for today. He didn't have time to repeat this exercise and he wasn't even sure it would result in anything even if he did. The fact was, he simply wasn't good enough in his weapon to hit the tiny petchers even if he saw them. He just didn't have enough time to aim and the one time he did, it was at an awkward angle he wasn't used to. Nate sighed as he squinted at the sun. Yet another hungry evening, for himself and his sisters. He had to get better at this. He simply had to.

~Fin~

[Radiant]

Nathaniel :

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	+3 XP
Tracking	+1 XP
Hunting	+3 XP
Weapon: Shortbow	+4 XP
Climbing	+1 XP

Lores

Lore Earned

Tracking: Rabbit

Hunting: The Art Of Waiting

Loots

Notes :

Poor Nathan...

My radiance is not bright enough?

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, beam me a PM and we can work it out.