10th Summer 517
Merevaika crouched behind the ferns, keeping a firm gaze on the chickens as she tried to formulate something of a plan. Her bow had been left behind at her tent, knowing it would be completely useless for the task. She was still hunting, that was true, but this time around, she needed her catch to be alive and well, rather than with an arrow through it. Unfortunately, it changed everything she knew about hunting, because distance was no longer useful. Being hidden could no longer happen. And plans – well, let’s just say they were out of the window for someone who had no clue about what she was trying to do.
Rubbing her hands together in preparation, she decided to just go for it. She didn’t know what she was doing, so she had no shame in doing something stupid and ineffective, even if it was just to try. Well, there was plenty of shame. It was just that there was no one around to see the stupid things that she did try.
Namely, jumping out from the bushes, stooped over with her hands almost running along the floor, charging towards the nearest hen.
It gave a large bucking noise and wings went crazy. The whole group of chickens – what was that called, a flock? - threw up their feathers and darted, all in different directions, like crazy. No wonder – some crazy woman had just jumped at them. Merevaika gritted her teeth and chose one at random, enjoying the strip of red against the feathers coming from her chest as she spiralled after it. Her feet thundered along the floor, darting left and right in a desperate attempt to follow the thing. A root appeared in her path, the knobbly thing threatening to trip her over, and the woman hopped as best as she could, before sliding under a nearby branch as the chicken changed direction suddenly. It flapped past her feet, clucking as it went, and Merevaika kicked up dirt and dust as she scrambled back to an upright position. Jumping forward, her foot caught another pesky root, and she fell, flinging herself at the creature, arms outstretched.
Feathers brushed against her open hands and she landed sharply on her chin, feeling her teeth cut through her tongue. A warm liquid pooled in her mouth, and she spat it out sharply, watching her prey literally slip out of her fingers and disappear in the greenery.
So just chasing the chicken wouldn’t work. That was obvious from the beginning. But she had to give it a go, didn’t she?
There had to be a better way.
The biggest problem was that Merevaika couldn’t seem to think of anything. Chasing the chickens had been her one and only shot at it. And, seeing the lack of success and knowing deep inside her it was a hopeless endeavour anyway, she wasn’t planning on trying again.
Perhaps a trap would be a better method? If she could build some sort of cage, she could put some food inside, set up the door to shut as the creature entered. With a little bit of bait, she’d have as many chickens as she wanted within her grasp.
A little bit of bait, and a little bit of crafting. Not only could Merevaika really not be bothered to spend another day and bit working hard using her fingers on something so meaningless and slow, but she wasn’t sure that she would know how to make it. The idea was about the same as the structure she had made before, and she was certain a smaller version could easily be weaved out of bamboo. Only, she had no idea how to add a door to that. Nor set it up so the door would close once a chicken had wandered inside.
She was a hunter, not a crafter. And that simple bamboo structure had taken the most out of her.
No, a trap that complex could wait until she had exhausted all other possibilities.
How about... something along the same lines, but a lot, lot simpler.
If Merevaika was the cage, in some sense, and she had the bait... Cogs turned her head, ready to be used.
Which left one, rather important, question.
What on Mizahar did chickens like to eat?
Merevaika crouched behind the ferns, keeping a firm gaze on the chickens as she tried to formulate something of a plan. Her bow had been left behind at her tent, knowing it would be completely useless for the task. She was still hunting, that was true, but this time around, she needed her catch to be alive and well, rather than with an arrow through it. Unfortunately, it changed everything she knew about hunting, because distance was no longer useful. Being hidden could no longer happen. And plans – well, let’s just say they were out of the window for someone who had no clue about what she was trying to do.
Rubbing her hands together in preparation, she decided to just go for it. She didn’t know what she was doing, so she had no shame in doing something stupid and ineffective, even if it was just to try. Well, there was plenty of shame. It was just that there was no one around to see the stupid things that she did try.
Namely, jumping out from the bushes, stooped over with her hands almost running along the floor, charging towards the nearest hen.
It gave a large bucking noise and wings went crazy. The whole group of chickens – what was that called, a flock? - threw up their feathers and darted, all in different directions, like crazy. No wonder – some crazy woman had just jumped at them. Merevaika gritted her teeth and chose one at random, enjoying the strip of red against the feathers coming from her chest as she spiralled after it. Her feet thundered along the floor, darting left and right in a desperate attempt to follow the thing. A root appeared in her path, the knobbly thing threatening to trip her over, and the woman hopped as best as she could, before sliding under a nearby branch as the chicken changed direction suddenly. It flapped past her feet, clucking as it went, and Merevaika kicked up dirt and dust as she scrambled back to an upright position. Jumping forward, her foot caught another pesky root, and she fell, flinging herself at the creature, arms outstretched.
Feathers brushed against her open hands and she landed sharply on her chin, feeling her teeth cut through her tongue. A warm liquid pooled in her mouth, and she spat it out sharply, watching her prey literally slip out of her fingers and disappear in the greenery.
So just chasing the chicken wouldn’t work. That was obvious from the beginning. But she had to give it a go, didn’t she?
There had to be a better way.
The biggest problem was that Merevaika couldn’t seem to think of anything. Chasing the chickens had been her one and only shot at it. And, seeing the lack of success and knowing deep inside her it was a hopeless endeavour anyway, she wasn’t planning on trying again.
Perhaps a trap would be a better method? If she could build some sort of cage, she could put some food inside, set up the door to shut as the creature entered. With a little bit of bait, she’d have as many chickens as she wanted within her grasp.
A little bit of bait, and a little bit of crafting. Not only could Merevaika really not be bothered to spend another day and bit working hard using her fingers on something so meaningless and slow, but she wasn’t sure that she would know how to make it. The idea was about the same as the structure she had made before, and she was certain a smaller version could easily be weaved out of bamboo. Only, she had no idea how to add a door to that. Nor set it up so the door would close once a chicken had wandered inside.
She was a hunter, not a crafter. And that simple bamboo structure had taken the most out of her.
No, a trap that complex could wait until she had exhausted all other possibilities.
How about... something along the same lines, but a lot, lot simpler.
If Merevaika was the cage, in some sense, and she had the bait... Cogs turned her head, ready to be used.
Which left one, rather important, question.
What on Mizahar did chickens like to eat?
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