Welcome to Gaia! ::

Long grasses swayed in the wind. The tips of the fronds dusted against the fence posts, Nat's ankles, and the legs of the leklan roaming in the field. The wooly creatures ambled about with little purpose. A few of them sought shade in the overhanging trees, while others chomped on the tall blades. The nearest creatures bayed expectantly, assuming that the sight of people meant extra grain in the troughs. They clustered about near the fence, never anticipating that any harm would come to them from the two Oblivionites standing just out of reach on the other side.

Natzathil shifted uncertainly from foot to foot as he stared at the thoughtless lumbering creatures. He clasped his strung bow in his hand, fingers tightening around the grip as he steeled his resolve. The young archer strode the last few paces that would bring him within lethal proximity to the harmless leklan. “It just doesn’t feel right,” Nat grumbled as plucked an arrow free of its quiver and notched it against the string. The nearest creature was a mere four feet away and expected nothing, despite how it stared directly at the young Oblivionite. It was a disturbingly easy target.

“Believe me, I get it,” Granda assured. The elder warrior stood behind Nat with his arms crossed, waiting. “But how can you be expected to kill to defend yourself or anyone else when you won’t even kill for your own supper?” Natzathil’s answer was a quiet hum of disagreement but nothing else. After a brief pause, the older Oblivionite added, “I don’t want to be standing out here all day.”

Nat pinched the inside of his cheek with his teeth. This exercise was pointless under the best circumstances, outright hurtful in the worst. The leklan weren’t even theirs to shoot. On the other hand, Natzathil had been fortunate to have Granda around this time, but the aged warrior wouldn’t be around forever. When he did end up alone, Nat would be thankful for easy targets like this. That, and going without supper had been mentioned should Nat refuse the seemingly simple task. He grimaced. It should be easier than this. His sole reason for existing was to be a warrior for his goddess. How sad would it be if he couldn’t kill a single animal?

In one fluid motion, he raised his bow, drew his arrow and locked his gaze on the space directly between the leklan’s eyes. Only a heartbeat separated finding his target and loosing an arrow on it.

A choppy sound of surprise emitted from the creature’s throat. Eternity passed between the time the single bolt lodged in its skull and the time it finally collapsed to the ground. A shiver coursed down Natzathil’s spine as it gave a final toss of its head, sending dark grey blotches splattering across the grass before it stilled.

Granda brushed past him. The old man slipped between the rungs of the fence and crouched near the felled leklan. The rest of the herd had shifted away at the shot, but still remained precariously close in case there was food to be had. “You did well,” Nat’s grandfather commented as he tousled a pale floppy ear. “It went quickly and felt nothing, I’m sure.” While the smaller boy stood by, Granda procured a knife from his belt and began the slow process of stripping away the pelt and cleaving the meat free of the bones. Natzathil tipped his head away with a grimace. It would be a pain to cart an entire leklan back to the house, so it wasn’t a surprise to see Granda harvesting it now. It just wasn’t something Nat was prepared to watch after seeing the creature roaming about seconds before. The old man must’ve known how his grandson felt. “You’d best be paying attention so you can do the next on your own.”

Nat pursed his lips. “The next,” he demanded. “I don’t know how much you think I can eat, but I assure you it’s less than my own weight. It would be wasteful to take another.” Aeris never would’ve let him take the first. It was only by some miracle he’d shoved back his twin’s concerns over the matter.

“I’m an old man,” Granda chortled lightheartedly as he continued to butcher with the steadiness of someone who’d been doing it for many years. “I have nothing to do but eat! Don’t take away the sole joy I have left in life.”

The burst of humor didn’t help entice Natzathil into being any more eager about a second kill than he had been about the first. It was only respect for the aged warrior that kept him tight-lipped about exactly how he felt about the situation. The younger male watched the rest of the demonstration through narrowed slits, finding that it was much easier to do so after the leklan stopped looking like a leklan and started looking like a thick chunk of disemboweled meat.

Once he was finished, Granda wiped his bloodied hands on his trousers and stood. “Pick another.”

Nat rubbed his temples. He didn’t care one way or the other if he endangered his own life, but Aeris pleaded in the back of his mind to show a little mercy to these stupid and defenseless creatures that had never done anything to harm him.

The wait must have started to bore the older man. “I want you to be able to survive, Natzathil.” The voice was low, almost warning. “The things you want, you won’t find them on Soudul. I’m too old to be chasing youngsters across the world, so you’ll be on your own. If you can’t even do this-”

The arrow pierced through the air before Granda could finish. A second followed, and then a third. For now, Nat would tamp down Aeris’s protests, as much as it pained him. This was for her, after all, and Granda was right; the mara were no longer here on Soudul. If he wanted vengeance, he would have to travel to Eowyn. He would go alone, and he would survive alone. He only needed to learn how.

A fourth arrow was strung when the elder warrior stopped him. “You’ll ruin the meat like that,” Granda snapped, reaching out to shove Nat’s arm down. The archer grunted and flexed his fist around his weapon as he cast his gaze at the ground. “Stupid boy, control yourself. You can’t lose your cool every time you hear something you don’t like.” Nat disagreed but couldn’t find words to voice his thoughts. Granda’s fingers clasped around the back of his neck and guided him forward. A knife was pressed into his palm where the arrow had been moments before. “Go on and see what you can salvage. I suppose you can’t make it any worse.”

Muttering, Nat stalked over to the creature. His three arrows protruded from its side. As he neared, he regretted his thoughtlessness. The leklan wasn’t even dead. It bayed desperately and thrashed its legs as it struggled to right itself. Thick grey streams oozed from its mouth and nose and seeped through its thick coat. An arrow had pierced through its hip, probably shattering the bone and rendering one of its back legs completely useless. Natzathil clamped his lids shut. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. Anything pelted with arrows like that should be dead. Nat had just hoped it would be instant for something as harmless as a leklan. Other things needed to suffer, but not a great, white, fluffy beast.

With Granda hovering over him, Nat did his best dismantling the fallen creature. First to be removed was the pelt, then its head and its hooves, internal organs, the arrows the archer had speared it with. When all was said and done, Natzathil felt disgusting and grimy. The warrior behind him grinned down at him for his efforts and chuckled drily when Nat flicked a stray bit of fat from his clothes. They packed what meat could be salvaged from the second kill, as well as from the first into a sack and prepared to depart from the field.

Granda stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and nodded toward the trees near the edge of the field. "Want a more challenging target?"

The younger man's attention shifted to the creatures lingering in the trees. There were several of the winged nuisances staring down at the two Oblivionites, waiting for them to leave the remains of the carcasses. Nat hummed quietly.These creatures were dunkel, useless pests that served little purpose except flying about eating insects. they were small enough that hitting any part of them with an arrow was probably enough to be fatal, and sympathy for them was something Natzathil didn't have. "Sure," he agreed with a curt not as he slipped his bow back into his grasp.

They weren't anywhere near as close as the leklan. Shooting an arrow at them would likely send the rest of the flock scattering, so he'd only get one good shot.

One shot was enough. He'd hardly released his arrow before the dunkel dove away. Most of them escaped and fluttered off through the sky. One did not.One lone beast thudded uselessly to the ground, and Nat couldn't help but puff out his chest at the success.

Granda let out a rumble of amusement. There was no need to mention that out of a flock that size, it would've been a disgrace for the lad not to hit one. he pat the boy on the back. "Good job, lad. Now get that meat back to the house. I'm hungry."