Continued from here
He was a city boy, through and through. Nothing made that more plain than when he was in the middle of the woods. And yet, for all the strangeness of it, the city boy found there were parallels. Useful ones, at that.
Stay low, keep to cover, eyes and ears open... and mind where you put your-
snap
The Raggedy Man winced as the twig broke under his boot. He couldn't see them, but he could feel the eyes of the others out there in the undergrowth. Glaring at him with undisguised annoyance. In fairness, he'd probably have done the same thing. There'd been no rain on the Woods for most of the season, and everything underfoot was brittle and bleached. Stepping into a pile of leaves would sound as loud as a glass shattering... at least to the prey they were stalking.
Wild pig, the huntsman had called it. Not "boar", which made Kasoria pause for a moment. Was there some subtle difference? Or was that just what they were called in Rharne? Either way, it was the same thing: a hundred or so pounds of bacon and pork on four hooves. The larders of Storm's Edge were fairly full in Ymiden, thanks to the Knights and their allies keeping the supply routes open, but food was not the only reason the hunting party was out. They were scouts as much as hunters, searching for signs of the Fireborn that had perhaps ranged north of the Stormwastes.
Kasoria had also noted that most of the party were those that were newer to ranged weapons. Like himself. Targets and barrels were one thing; flinging arrows at a target obscure, alert, and fast-moving was the true test. So he'd volunteered to go with them, riding north and hitching his horse at the edge of the vast woodlands. That had been breaks ago. Since then, they'd stalked and lurked and crept through the shrubs and hedges and foliage between the towering trees. Their leader was a bearded veteran of life beyond civilization, skin like leather and senses almost canine. He'd actually sniffed the hoof prints they'd found at the edge of the woods, then grunted as if doing so confirmed some secret suspicion.
"Passed by not long ago," he'd said to them, crouched around him with eager faces. "This early, probably goin' for water at that creek. Then it'll be foragin' most of the day. I'll lead. You lot fan out around me. An' remember what I told yeh."
Quiet. Careful. Watchful. Patient. Managing all but the first, old man.
Kasoria pushed aside the mocking voice and started moving again. He had an arrow notched into his bow but not drawn it back. No point keeping that tension for this part of the hunt, sapping the energy from his arms for when he actually needed them. He moved at a snail's pace, now. Every step considered and the ground observed before he took it. While his eyes were for the ground ahead, his ears were for the space around him. He could hear things moving in the undergrowth. Rustling in the vegetation. Fluttering in the leaves. And there, yes, the sound of... it sounded like feet. The rhythmic thump-thump-thump of limbs across the ground, and the weight necessary to-
Then he heard a grunt. Muffled and distant, but distinct.
There you are.
Moving in a crouch, he started towards the sound. Around him, he could imagine a half-dozen other silent wraiths doing the same... and managing it with more stealth than him, apparently. This was not his jungle, though. There were no tunnels and sewers, back alleys and side streets, decayed ruins and rows of houses for him to slink in and out and between and under and above. Here there was just the ground, and the cover of the trees... but even here, a man could almost vanish, if he was careful.
He felt the ground begin to rise under his feet. An incline, making his profile even smaller. He was sweating now. Not afraid, but feeling a suppressed, chained excitement. The snuffling was getting louder... and it was not alone. Once he was sure the sound was no more than a few dozen yards away - one thing he liked about the woods, was he didn't have to worry about echos off rock and brick befuddling his ears - he stopped... slowly straightened up... just enough to peer over the thick bank of fallen trees and foliage and plants-
Five tubby creatures were trotting back and forth across a clearing. Two much larger than the others. One of them with tusks. The sires were pushing and gouging up the ground, creating furrows for their offspring to root around in for grubs, like they were plowing a field for planting. As Kasoria watched, he saw other, rounded shapes appear from around them. The other hunters, heads barely showing... and bows rising...
He did the same. Raised his bow, slow as he'd walked, drawing as he did... aiming down the arrow-
snap
That wasn't him. It didn't matter. The family of pigs froze and then looked up. Kasoria was no hunter, but he knew fear in any creature. He could tell by the bunched muscles and wide eyes that they were getting ready to-
Now or never.
He finished his draw, took aim at the tusked father, and loosed.
30th trial, Cylus, 720
Mistral Woods
Morning
Mistral Woods
Morning
He was a city boy, through and through. Nothing made that more plain than when he was in the middle of the woods. And yet, for all the strangeness of it, the city boy found there were parallels. Useful ones, at that.
Stay low, keep to cover, eyes and ears open... and mind where you put your-
snap
The Raggedy Man winced as the twig broke under his boot. He couldn't see them, but he could feel the eyes of the others out there in the undergrowth. Glaring at him with undisguised annoyance. In fairness, he'd probably have done the same thing. There'd been no rain on the Woods for most of the season, and everything underfoot was brittle and bleached. Stepping into a pile of leaves would sound as loud as a glass shattering... at least to the prey they were stalking.
Wild pig, the huntsman had called it. Not "boar", which made Kasoria pause for a moment. Was there some subtle difference? Or was that just what they were called in Rharne? Either way, it was the same thing: a hundred or so pounds of bacon and pork on four hooves. The larders of Storm's Edge were fairly full in Ymiden, thanks to the Knights and their allies keeping the supply routes open, but food was not the only reason the hunting party was out. They were scouts as much as hunters, searching for signs of the Fireborn that had perhaps ranged north of the Stormwastes.
Kasoria had also noted that most of the party were those that were newer to ranged weapons. Like himself. Targets and barrels were one thing; flinging arrows at a target obscure, alert, and fast-moving was the true test. So he'd volunteered to go with them, riding north and hitching his horse at the edge of the vast woodlands. That had been breaks ago. Since then, they'd stalked and lurked and crept through the shrubs and hedges and foliage between the towering trees. Their leader was a bearded veteran of life beyond civilization, skin like leather and senses almost canine. He'd actually sniffed the hoof prints they'd found at the edge of the woods, then grunted as if doing so confirmed some secret suspicion.
"Passed by not long ago," he'd said to them, crouched around him with eager faces. "This early, probably goin' for water at that creek. Then it'll be foragin' most of the day. I'll lead. You lot fan out around me. An' remember what I told yeh."
Quiet. Careful. Watchful. Patient. Managing all but the first, old man.
Kasoria pushed aside the mocking voice and started moving again. He had an arrow notched into his bow but not drawn it back. No point keeping that tension for this part of the hunt, sapping the energy from his arms for when he actually needed them. He moved at a snail's pace, now. Every step considered and the ground observed before he took it. While his eyes were for the ground ahead, his ears were for the space around him. He could hear things moving in the undergrowth. Rustling in the vegetation. Fluttering in the leaves. And there, yes, the sound of... it sounded like feet. The rhythmic thump-thump-thump of limbs across the ground, and the weight necessary to-
Then he heard a grunt. Muffled and distant, but distinct.
There you are.
Moving in a crouch, he started towards the sound. Around him, he could imagine a half-dozen other silent wraiths doing the same... and managing it with more stealth than him, apparently. This was not his jungle, though. There were no tunnels and sewers, back alleys and side streets, decayed ruins and rows of houses for him to slink in and out and between and under and above. Here there was just the ground, and the cover of the trees... but even here, a man could almost vanish, if he was careful.
He felt the ground begin to rise under his feet. An incline, making his profile even smaller. He was sweating now. Not afraid, but feeling a suppressed, chained excitement. The snuffling was getting louder... and it was not alone. Once he was sure the sound was no more than a few dozen yards away - one thing he liked about the woods, was he didn't have to worry about echos off rock and brick befuddling his ears - he stopped... slowly straightened up... just enough to peer over the thick bank of fallen trees and foliage and plants-
Five tubby creatures were trotting back and forth across a clearing. Two much larger than the others. One of them with tusks. The sires were pushing and gouging up the ground, creating furrows for their offspring to root around in for grubs, like they were plowing a field for planting. As Kasoria watched, he saw other, rounded shapes appear from around them. The other hunters, heads barely showing... and bows rising...
He did the same. Raised his bow, slow as he'd walked, drawing as he did... aiming down the arrow-
snap
That wasn't him. It didn't matter. The family of pigs froze and then looked up. Kasoria was no hunter, but he knew fear in any creature. He could tell by the bunched muscles and wide eyes that they were getting ready to-
Now or never.
He finished his draw, took aim at the tusked father, and loosed.
