Ymiden 50, Arc 718
Ellen waded through the mud, thick tangles of aquatic plants, and climbed over clumps of solid footing. The trek through the swamp wasn't necessarily pleasant, but it was rather bracing. The warm stagnant pools had long left her legs and wings covered in sludge almost up to her waist, and more than a few times she found herself sucked down into a particularly thick batch of muck that required a lot of squirming and yanking to free herself from.
She wasn't really sure how the Arnabari did it. The half-breed had been following them for the better part of the trial. Although they moved easily through this environment, the herd left noticeable gouges in the mud. All she had to do was not lose track of their path across the intermittent spots of firm ground. Sometimes they made rather great leaps, and her legs just couldn't keep up.
So she waded and climbed, crawled, and stumbled through the mush and the tangled swamp, slipping here and there but determined to have something to show for her efforts by the end of it. Eventually she came upon them, rewarded by her persistence after who knew how long. The sun had moved noticeably in the sky, but there was still plenty of light to be had--still plenty of time to have a successful hunt.
The herd of Arnabari were wading through hock deep waters, browsing the hearty plants that flouted at the swamp's surface and grew around the edges of the pools. Ellen sloshed slowly closer, moving in a low crouch and picking her way carefully through the undergrowth. Their long ears listened to the hum of insects and trill of birds, absently searching for anything out of the ordinary. There was no doubt they likely had incredible hearing, so she hung back, not daring to get too close. If she spooked them, they would be gone for good.
One of the closer individuals lifted its head, ears then eyes turning her way. The half-breed stopped, ducking behind a fallen tree, sprawling flat on her belly in the mud. She waited there for a long moment before lifting her head again to check on the herd. They were back to their browsing, intent on a meal once more, so she continued on.
Ellen slipped back into the stagnant waters, still staying low. She was soaked up to her waist now and grimaced at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin. It was slow going, but she finally found a more elevated spot near the herd where she could look down on them from a small hill. They were milling around a bit, searching for new spots that hadn't been stripped by their persistent nibbling.
She hunkered down in the grass and brush, flat on her belly, and waited--watching. There were nine in all. Two that must have been does with young at their side. One even had twins. The others seemed to be at least adolescents, though one was visibly older. It moved slowly, and seemed to be keeping an eye on the younger herd members. She decided quickly that she had no intentions of bothering that one. Ellen never did hunt anything young, nor anything that had managed to survive to see gray hairs. A sign of respect for the past and the future, perhaps.
Among those, the nursing mothers were also safe. The young here still seemed quite small, so that just a few prime choices to pick from. A large buck in particular caught her eye. He was muscular in a lean sort of way, tall, and healthy looking. The half-breed watched him move past one of the mothering does and quickly shy away when she nipped at him for drawing too close to her young. Ellen grinned a little. He would do as well as any.
She carefully climbed back to a crouch, sitting up on one knee, and drew an arrow from the quiver at her hip. Laying the arrow across her bow, she nocked it, positioned her fingers, and drew with a deep inhale through her new. The bow and her arms flexed against each other as she anchored the fletching at the corner of her mouth. The half-breed held her breath, following the male with the arrowhead. He stopped and dipped his head to graze. Ellen silently exhaled, and released.
The string came free from her fingers and the bow snapped taut, humming as the arrow jumped away with a hiss. It slammed into flesh, burying itself into the beast's shoulder a little too far to the left from where she'd been aiming. She cursed under her breath but didn't hesitate. The buck screamed in fright and shock more than in pain, stumbling from the impact and his confusion. The rest of the herd were on the move before Ellen was even on her feet. They bounded away, splashing and bellowing off into the trees with their tails flagged.
The buck moved to follow but stumbled again and collapsed when his injured shoulder gave out. She slid and stumbled quickly down the hill, throwing her bow over her shoulder and drawing her knife. He thrashed as she came close, but she didn't hesitate. Ellen climbed over top of him, pressing his head and neck down to stop him from trying to get up.
"Tafi...tafi...," she soothed quietly.
He panted loudly, eyes rolling at her in fear, the whites prominent around his dilated pupils. Ellen placed a hand over his head, holding him steady, and quickly pushed the knife up under his jaw. He gasped and gurgled, squirmed, then slowly went still. She stoked his neck as he took his last few breaths, and then he was gone. It was done. The hum of insects seemed that much louder in the silence he left behind.
Ellen waded through the mud, thick tangles of aquatic plants, and climbed over clumps of solid footing. The trek through the swamp wasn't necessarily pleasant, but it was rather bracing. The warm stagnant pools had long left her legs and wings covered in sludge almost up to her waist, and more than a few times she found herself sucked down into a particularly thick batch of muck that required a lot of squirming and yanking to free herself from.
She wasn't really sure how the Arnabari did it. The half-breed had been following them for the better part of the trial. Although they moved easily through this environment, the herd left noticeable gouges in the mud. All she had to do was not lose track of their path across the intermittent spots of firm ground. Sometimes they made rather great leaps, and her legs just couldn't keep up.
So she waded and climbed, crawled, and stumbled through the mush and the tangled swamp, slipping here and there but determined to have something to show for her efforts by the end of it. Eventually she came upon them, rewarded by her persistence after who knew how long. The sun had moved noticeably in the sky, but there was still plenty of light to be had--still plenty of time to have a successful hunt.
The herd of Arnabari were wading through hock deep waters, browsing the hearty plants that flouted at the swamp's surface and grew around the edges of the pools. Ellen sloshed slowly closer, moving in a low crouch and picking her way carefully through the undergrowth. Their long ears listened to the hum of insects and trill of birds, absently searching for anything out of the ordinary. There was no doubt they likely had incredible hearing, so she hung back, not daring to get too close. If she spooked them, they would be gone for good.
One of the closer individuals lifted its head, ears then eyes turning her way. The half-breed stopped, ducking behind a fallen tree, sprawling flat on her belly in the mud. She waited there for a long moment before lifting her head again to check on the herd. They were back to their browsing, intent on a meal once more, so she continued on.
Ellen slipped back into the stagnant waters, still staying low. She was soaked up to her waist now and grimaced at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin. It was slow going, but she finally found a more elevated spot near the herd where she could look down on them from a small hill. They were milling around a bit, searching for new spots that hadn't been stripped by their persistent nibbling.
She hunkered down in the grass and brush, flat on her belly, and waited--watching. There were nine in all. Two that must have been does with young at their side. One even had twins. The others seemed to be at least adolescents, though one was visibly older. It moved slowly, and seemed to be keeping an eye on the younger herd members. She decided quickly that she had no intentions of bothering that one. Ellen never did hunt anything young, nor anything that had managed to survive to see gray hairs. A sign of respect for the past and the future, perhaps.
Among those, the nursing mothers were also safe. The young here still seemed quite small, so that just a few prime choices to pick from. A large buck in particular caught her eye. He was muscular in a lean sort of way, tall, and healthy looking. The half-breed watched him move past one of the mothering does and quickly shy away when she nipped at him for drawing too close to her young. Ellen grinned a little. He would do as well as any.
She carefully climbed back to a crouch, sitting up on one knee, and drew an arrow from the quiver at her hip. Laying the arrow across her bow, she nocked it, positioned her fingers, and drew with a deep inhale through her new. The bow and her arms flexed against each other as she anchored the fletching at the corner of her mouth. The half-breed held her breath, following the male with the arrowhead. He stopped and dipped his head to graze. Ellen silently exhaled, and released.
The string came free from her fingers and the bow snapped taut, humming as the arrow jumped away with a hiss. It slammed into flesh, burying itself into the beast's shoulder a little too far to the left from where she'd been aiming. She cursed under her breath but didn't hesitate. The buck screamed in fright and shock more than in pain, stumbling from the impact and his confusion. The rest of the herd were on the move before Ellen was even on her feet. They bounded away, splashing and bellowing off into the trees with their tails flagged.
The buck moved to follow but stumbled again and collapsed when his injured shoulder gave out. She slid and stumbled quickly down the hill, throwing her bow over her shoulder and drawing her knife. He thrashed as she came close, but she didn't hesitate. Ellen climbed over top of him, pressing his head and neck down to stop him from trying to get up.
"Tafi...tafi...," she soothed quietly.
He panted loudly, eyes rolling at her in fear, the whites prominent around his dilated pupils. Ellen placed a hand over his head, holding him steady, and quickly pushed the knife up under his jaw. He gasped and gurgled, squirmed, then slowly went still. She stoked his neck as he took his last few breaths, and then he was gone. It was done. The hum of insects seemed that much louder in the silence he left behind.
