It was a new feeling to take pleasure in a hunt. Perhaps it had something to do with worry, and the fact Jinyel no longer risked starvation if he failed. Perhaps he was simply a better hunter now, able to guarantee his daily meat as long as he wasn’t too picky about it. To hunt a specific animal involved planning and stalking, but to hunt whatever came in range was mostly a matter of preparation.
The kingless lands between the Empire and Rynmere were a carpet of grassland, with sparse forests and waterways closer to the empire. Keyword being sparse, which meant those grasslands and waterways were a regular destination for countless animals on their various migrations.
The key to harvesting such regular prey was to arrive early, move as little as possible and pick prey for convenience rather than pride. Climbing up a tree in the dark was a tiring affair, done with all equipment slung awkwardly across his back so he could use both hands, but there was no need for haste. Once in position, the hunt was merely a matter of time.
By the time dawn came, any animals which had been disturbed by his climb were convinced it was all over. The eastern sky bled silver, and Jinyel got a good look at his surroundings.
He’d come to the edge of the forest to make his hunt, and to the narrow stream which fed the trees. To the west, grassland stretched to eternity. Northways along the stream, hundreds of bulky animals moved to their morning drink. Aurochs, Jinyel identified, which would make for a precious kill if only they were anywhere near his tree.
Alas, that was the price of convenience. He wasn’t looking for the trophy kill, merely the easy one.
South along the stream, Jinyel heard a whinny, and saw swifter shapes against the grass. Wild horses. He watched for a few moments longer than necessary, just to see a tall palomino herd her foal away from an irritated sorrel. The horses he’d seen so far on these plains were tall and fine-boned, with coats that favored lighter browns and yellows. He wondered what kind of hunt it would require to take one of those animals for himself, to train and care for like he had once done for Ajan, but the thought was over quickly.
Grass shifted below his tree, and the morning gave up his quarry.
He didn’t know the name for this breed of deer, or antelope, or whatever they were. They were gangly and cloven-hoofed with horns sprouting from the males’ heads, but they were nearly half a foot smaller than most deer he had seen, their coats a handsome orange and their antlers bearing only two short prongs no matter how old they were.
Jinyel knew his kill by how it walked on the edge of the herd. When Jinyel drew his bow and placed arrow to string, his tree rustled. The animals froze, looked at him, and waited. When he made no more noise, they continued on their way ― pointedly avoiding his tree. If he had been a leopard, it would have saved their lives to walk that way. But leopards did not carry bows or arrows.
An adult doe was his kill, who saw him draw his bow in the tree but didn’t know such danger could fly through the air. His arrow found her between the shoulderblades, and she let out a cry which sent the others running. She also ran, for a few trills. It was time enough for Jinyel to set foot back on hard ground, and her short escape had been frantic. She tore a hole through the grass that even a novice would have been able to follow.
She was dead by the time he found her. The arrow had slid through her ribcage, and though the shaft had broken, the head was intact when he pulled it out. He could put the feathers and head on a new shaft later, but for now, he had meat to deal with.
The kingless lands between the Empire and Rynmere were a carpet of grassland, with sparse forests and waterways closer to the empire. Keyword being sparse, which meant those grasslands and waterways were a regular destination for countless animals on their various migrations.
The key to harvesting such regular prey was to arrive early, move as little as possible and pick prey for convenience rather than pride. Climbing up a tree in the dark was a tiring affair, done with all equipment slung awkwardly across his back so he could use both hands, but there was no need for haste. Once in position, the hunt was merely a matter of time.
By the time dawn came, any animals which had been disturbed by his climb were convinced it was all over. The eastern sky bled silver, and Jinyel got a good look at his surroundings.
He’d come to the edge of the forest to make his hunt, and to the narrow stream which fed the trees. To the west, grassland stretched to eternity. Northways along the stream, hundreds of bulky animals moved to their morning drink. Aurochs, Jinyel identified, which would make for a precious kill if only they were anywhere near his tree.
Alas, that was the price of convenience. He wasn’t looking for the trophy kill, merely the easy one.
South along the stream, Jinyel heard a whinny, and saw swifter shapes against the grass. Wild horses. He watched for a few moments longer than necessary, just to see a tall palomino herd her foal away from an irritated sorrel. The horses he’d seen so far on these plains were tall and fine-boned, with coats that favored lighter browns and yellows. He wondered what kind of hunt it would require to take one of those animals for himself, to train and care for like he had once done for Ajan, but the thought was over quickly.
Grass shifted below his tree, and the morning gave up his quarry.
He didn’t know the name for this breed of deer, or antelope, or whatever they were. They were gangly and cloven-hoofed with horns sprouting from the males’ heads, but they were nearly half a foot smaller than most deer he had seen, their coats a handsome orange and their antlers bearing only two short prongs no matter how old they were.
Jinyel knew his kill by how it walked on the edge of the herd. When Jinyel drew his bow and placed arrow to string, his tree rustled. The animals froze, looked at him, and waited. When he made no more noise, they continued on their way ― pointedly avoiding his tree. If he had been a leopard, it would have saved their lives to walk that way. But leopards did not carry bows or arrows.
An adult doe was his kill, who saw him draw his bow in the tree but didn’t know such danger could fly through the air. His arrow found her between the shoulderblades, and she let out a cry which sent the others running. She also ran, for a few trills. It was time enough for Jinyel to set foot back on hard ground, and her short escape had been frantic. She tore a hole through the grass that even a novice would have been able to follow.
She was dead by the time he found her. The arrow had slid through her ribcage, and though the shaft had broken, the head was intact when he pulled it out. He could put the feathers and head on a new shaft later, but for now, he had meat to deal with.
