Nordoux makes his way deep into the great wood. With the boar population fading with each venture, so his trek carries him further from the cabin. It now takes almost a day's half to reach the herds of boar, that once flooded the great wood and poured into the valley below the cabin.
He comes upon the edge of a small clearing. He assumes the role of the great cat, remaining all but invisible, as he blends into the brush and trees. His breathing, slowed to that near of a corpse. Only by the actions of his eyes could one decipher from the two. He scans the tall grasses for any movement, any twitch of an ear, any glimpse of a snout or any sparkle of sunlight reflected in an eye. Nordoux finds a recipient for the gift of fletched reed. With an under speed of sloth-like motion, he draws his yewed sender of flight to his cheek. Releasing upon exhale, the arrow finds its mark. Before the boar's body can come to rest, from the single shot through the optic, Nordoux draws a second, with a third in the ready. Anticipating the wound of the next target, he finds... nothing.
With his emotions dampened, from lack of a multiple harvest, Nordoux quivers his arrows and sholders his bow. He draws his knife and moves toward the fallen game, to prepare a pack from the hide, for transport of the small rewards granted from just a single kill.
Before a third step was left behind, he hears the echo of a deep gurgling growl. He freezes in mid stride and realizes he was mistaken...
It was no echo...
