|
Yevaud
Softly he stalked through the woods, much as he had done for just shy of three weeks, every broken twig, bent leaf, and dew filled track told a tale. The tread of a step, invisible to most told speed, direction, even the time of day when the one he followed had passed. He was no ranger, nor a druid with centuries of woodcraft to their names, but the forest was just as much in his blood as in the blood of the one he tracked. The woods had grown silent as of late, and he had trouble locating recent spoor of normal woodland beasts, as if they had fled, or been chased away. He took note of this, and wondered at the danger, was the ground to thunder, or perhaps a fire nearby. no, he banished thoughts of a fire as quickly as it had come, he would have seen the haze above, and smelled the smoke. Something more dangerous was afoot he thought.
Pushing himself faster he contented himself with speeding his pursuit, and trying to overtake his quarry before whatever force of nature, or fell creature that had chased away the animals caught the one he was after.
And so it was that over the next day and a half he gained ground, and in his haste missed subtle signs that would have warned him. As he came around the thick bole of an ancient oak he saw his quarry waiting for him, sitting on the stump of an equally ancient tree.
ooc Your move Larry.
[ 02-08-2005, 12:36 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]
|