Moving quickly through the shadows, he circled his prey from a generous distance. Like the elephants of ancient history, the plains deer possessed a pair of vicious tusks, and while it was a grazing animal, it was lean and fast. If it caught sight of him he would have no hope of catching it. My master concealed himself behind a shrub and nocked an arrow into his bow. This night a hunter's moon hung low in the sky, and with luck he would make a successful kill.
Rather than attempting to trap the creature near a cliff or valley, as was the practice of some hunters from other tribes, my master preferred to hunt in the open where the deer would be more likely to run if he were unsuccessful. He had heard many stories of men gored by the deer they cornered when there was nowhere left for the beast to run. If he had preferred to hunt in a group, he would not have been as worried about this possibility, but it was his somewhat eccentric practice to work alone. He had always seen the final act of taking the animal's life as a profoundly spiritual event that filled him with regret every time, and he preferred to experience this in solitude. As he thought about this, a chill ran down his back and he shook himself to clear his head.
Perhaps the deer heard some sound he had made, because he saw it pause and look up. In the shifting moonlight he thought he saw its muscles tensing beneath its thick hide. At this moment, a fraction of a second would determine the outcome of the night. Acting quickly, he drew back his bowstring and let the arrow fly. Almost simultaneously he broke his cover and began to run towards his quarry. The salamnder poison on the arrow would paralyze the animal for a short time, but he had no illusions that the arrow would be enough to stop the beast for much longer than that. He would have to reach the deer before it ran again.
The arrow sank into the animal's flank with a small thud, the stone arrowhead piercing the hide with ease. The deer let out a chilling scream; my master had always wondered how such a human sound could come from such a non-human mouth. As this happened, my master was just reaching his prey and the scream surrounded him, becoming a deafening roar that filled his ears. My master, however, remained perfectly silent. He grabbed hold of one of the creature's tusks with his left and and with his right, he reached for his knife. His body slammed into the creature's side, and the weakened deer toppled over into the tall grass. Wrenched its head back, he slit its throat quickly.
Under the moonlight, the blood looked black running over the flattened grass, and the deer bucked twice, weakly. The life soon faded from its eyes and my master found himself llooking into two glassy reflections of himself. He knelt over the animal, said a brief prayer, and began to skin it. The Ravenous knew the sound of death on the plains well, and they would come soon.
Rather than attempting to trap the creature near a cliff or valley, as was the practice of some hunters from other tribes, my master preferred to hunt in the open where the deer would be more likely to run if he were unsuccessful. He had heard many stories of men gored by the deer they cornered when there was nowhere left for the beast to run. If he had preferred to hunt in a group, he would not have been as worried about this possibility, but it was his somewhat eccentric practice to work alone. He had always seen the final act of taking the animal's life as a profoundly spiritual event that filled him with regret every time, and he preferred to experience this in solitude. As he thought about this, a chill ran down his back and he shook himself to clear his head.
Perhaps the deer heard some sound he had made, because he saw it pause and look up. In the shifting moonlight he thought he saw its muscles tensing beneath its thick hide. At this moment, a fraction of a second would determine the outcome of the night. Acting quickly, he drew back his bowstring and let the arrow fly. Almost simultaneously he broke his cover and began to run towards his quarry. The salamnder poison on the arrow would paralyze the animal for a short time, but he had no illusions that the arrow would be enough to stop the beast for much longer than that. He would have to reach the deer before it ran again.
The arrow sank into the animal's flank with a small thud, the stone arrowhead piercing the hide with ease. The deer let out a chilling scream; my master had always wondered how such a human sound could come from such a non-human mouth. As this happened, my master was just reaching his prey and the scream surrounded him, becoming a deafening roar that filled his ears. My master, however, remained perfectly silent. He grabbed hold of one of the creature's tusks with his left and and with his right, he reached for his knife. His body slammed into the creature's side, and the weakened deer toppled over into the tall grass. Wrenched its head back, he slit its throat quickly.
Under the moonlight, the blood looked black running over the flattened grass, and the deer bucked twice, weakly. The life soon faded from its eyes and my master found himself llooking into two glassy reflections of himself. He knelt over the animal, said a brief prayer, and began to skin it. The Ravenous knew the sound of death on the plains well, and they would come soon.