S
Sarre
Guest
Original poster
Kitlyn hated the elusive ones - The ones with vague tracks and docile habits. She liked the aggressive ones - that's where the real thrill was. If they weren't, she could leave the glorified meat chasers after it. That wasn't real hunting, that was just pointing and aiming and checking traps. Child's play. But nope. This thing was eluding her completely.
The poster on the board had described it as "unpredictable." It was said to look like a large, but incredibly thin deer, with forward facing horns. It had been gentle, even shy when he had first appeared, wandering the outskirts of the village, but then one night it had suddenly begun to charge in with a fury. First, it had taken a goat. It carried it with it's horns, as if picking up a meatball with a fork, and then it had started to take street children. They'd written that it was fast - twice the speed of a boar, maybe three times. Thin and fast, Kitlyn had thought, Difficult target practice!
So now here she was, sitting lethargically in a large purple tree on the edge of a wide clearing. She had a crossbow on her lap - big and heavy - equipped with a wide, steel-tipped, and poisoned bolt. She could shoot it through a tree if she wanted to, and it would fly out the other side. Hanging over her arm was a regular bow. It was much faster to reload, and much lighter - for when she wasn't guaranteed a clear shot.
Tracking the thing had proved impossible - it's tracks were tiny and far apart - so she had set some of the best bait she could get (sure, it hadn't been cheap, but anything to hurry this job up) and was waiting for it to show. Waiting. Waiting. Damn it, she hated this.
Apparently, she wasn't the only one. "How much longer?" Bait called to her, from a high net in the center of the clearing. "I'm hungry."
"You can eat all you like when we're done," Kitlyn called back. "Have a great feast. You'll be able to afford it."
"But it's taking so long," he wailed, voice dragging and whiney.
"Keep whining, Maybe it'll hear you," she replied, rolling her eyes and pulling her hat lower so that it provided some measure against the sound. Perhaps she'd take a nap, just to pass the time. If it showed, the boy's screaming would probably wake her.
The poster on the board had described it as "unpredictable." It was said to look like a large, but incredibly thin deer, with forward facing horns. It had been gentle, even shy when he had first appeared, wandering the outskirts of the village, but then one night it had suddenly begun to charge in with a fury. First, it had taken a goat. It carried it with it's horns, as if picking up a meatball with a fork, and then it had started to take street children. They'd written that it was fast - twice the speed of a boar, maybe three times. Thin and fast, Kitlyn had thought, Difficult target practice!
So now here she was, sitting lethargically in a large purple tree on the edge of a wide clearing. She had a crossbow on her lap - big and heavy - equipped with a wide, steel-tipped, and poisoned bolt. She could shoot it through a tree if she wanted to, and it would fly out the other side. Hanging over her arm was a regular bow. It was much faster to reload, and much lighter - for when she wasn't guaranteed a clear shot.
Tracking the thing had proved impossible - it's tracks were tiny and far apart - so she had set some of the best bait she could get (sure, it hadn't been cheap, but anything to hurry this job up) and was waiting for it to show. Waiting. Waiting. Damn it, she hated this.
Apparently, she wasn't the only one. "How much longer?" Bait called to her, from a high net in the center of the clearing. "I'm hungry."
"You can eat all you like when we're done," Kitlyn called back. "Have a great feast. You'll be able to afford it."
"But it's taking so long," he wailed, voice dragging and whiney.
"Keep whining, Maybe it'll hear you," she replied, rolling her eyes and pulling her hat lower so that it provided some measure against the sound. Perhaps she'd take a nap, just to pass the time. If it showed, the boy's screaming would probably wake her.
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