New Prey
Cerene rapidly ascends the nearest tree. She knows her prey is large. Another sound in the distance gives away her prey's direction. As her feet touch the forest floor, the sound sends tremors underneath her. This new prey is unknown to her.
She cautiously starts her hunt through the sunlit forest.
The wind swiftly picks up and moves through her hair. Chickadees flash through strands of sunlight. She can hear a stream flowing in the distance behind the clearing. The noise echoes from within the clearing with the rustling of leaves and a few more fleeting chickadees. Her bow is drawn, arrow nocked in place, eyes searching for her prey.
The clearing is a familiar place to her. She has sat atop the large grey moss lined boulder in the center of the clearing many times before, crafting arrows. Today, the clearing is where she will find her prey.
White earthen flecks drift around her as she pushes forward into the clearing. The sun spotlights the boulder, as it always seemingly does. Light flows outward to the surrounding circular treeline. Each trunk elaborately carved with filigree designs. Swirling patterns slightly darkened from having no golden warm light touching them underneath the thick canopy of leaves. The last single chickadee chirps at the flare of light on the arrowhead's end. There is no prey here.
Cerene eases her grip on her bow and places the arrow back in her quiver. Sighing upwards through her hair and wondering what could have possibly made those sounds. The tops of longer grass blades in the clearing glance off her legs, she climbs up the boulder and begins to sit the chickadee chirps and springs into her hands. A brief moment of rest and reflection, as the sound returns.
The bird takes off towards the sun. Cerene leaps to her feet, both blades in hand. Their spines nearly touching her wrapped leather wrist-guards. The emitting sound and a crackling quickly draws her attention, blades at the ready. The prey is near...
She cautiously starts her hunt through the sunlit forest.
The wind swiftly picks up and moves through her hair. Chickadees flash through strands of sunlight. She can hear a stream flowing in the distance behind the clearing. The noise echoes from within the clearing with the rustling of leaves and a few more fleeting chickadees. Her bow is drawn, arrow nocked in place, eyes searching for her prey.
The clearing is a familiar place to her. She has sat atop the large grey moss lined boulder in the center of the clearing many times before, crafting arrows. Today, the clearing is where she will find her prey.
White earthen flecks drift around her as she pushes forward into the clearing. The sun spotlights the boulder, as it always seemingly does. Light flows outward to the surrounding circular treeline. Each trunk elaborately carved with filigree designs. Swirling patterns slightly darkened from having no golden warm light touching them underneath the thick canopy of leaves. The last single chickadee chirps at the flare of light on the arrowhead's end. There is no prey here.
Cerene eases her grip on her bow and places the arrow back in her quiver. Sighing upwards through her hair and wondering what could have possibly made those sounds. The tops of longer grass blades in the clearing glance off her legs, she climbs up the boulder and begins to sit the chickadee chirps and springs into her hands. A brief moment of rest and reflection, as the sound returns.
The bird takes off towards the sun. Cerene leaps to her feet, both blades in hand. Their spines nearly touching her wrapped leather wrist-guards. The emitting sound and a crackling quickly draws her attention, blades at the ready. The prey is near...
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