37th of Ashan, 722
The forest was watching him.
It watched him as he looped corded rope around stray branches. It watched him as he dug holes to set those wishbone-shaped branches into place. It watched him as he twisted the rope into loop, measuring out a space big enough for a deer's neck. It watched him as he baited the ground, anchored the snare, and set himself high into a neighboring tree not far from the game trail. Every movement, every action, every breath, Russel could feel weighed underneath the forest's eyeless gaze.
Unsettling, but not unwelcome. Russel knew what horrors could emerge from a silent wood. Better to be appraised than surprised.
The trees themselves seemed to be sapped of life as Russel navigated into their higher branches. Everything around him in this spirit-rich Sacred Forest drained of vibrance, of color, of brilliance as he ran his cursed hands over the study limbs of which sprang from the solid trunk. Slowly, steadily, Russel reached the security of the high branches of the canopy. He was far enough away that his carrion-scent would not be a deterrent to his trap, and that any unintended aspect of his malady would not affect the spirit dense forest. Here, amidst the peak of the branches, catching the gentle bend and sway of the trees, he would be hidden from his prey.
The forest may have had eyes everywhere, but he was more than certain that deer rarely looked up.
It was deer, and not attention, that would be Russel's quarry for this trial. Another notice had been issued to his garrison, requesting every able-bodied hunter to aide in mitigating an explosion in deer population. The youth figured it would be a good opportunity to sharpen some of the country skills he had let fall to the wayside when he enlisted all those cycles ago, and joined up with the litany of would-be rangers heading towards the Sacred Forest. Plus, the quiet of the wild air would do him some good. Chaos clung to him like a burr in the city, and over the last two weeks his life had changed rapidly.
Russel's mind always cleared in the woods. He hoped the time it took to hunt by snare would bring about some much needed clarity. With the trap already set, and the morning sun barely cresting beyond the horizon, Russel would indeed have breaks aplenty. Breaks to hide, breaks to think, and breaks to avoid the memory of his last encounter in the woods.
"G-gonna be a l-long trial," he sighed to the listening leaves. He tried not to notice that his hand was halfway to his own throat, tugging at the echo of a noose that still plagued his waking thoughts.
It watched him as he looped corded rope around stray branches. It watched him as he dug holes to set those wishbone-shaped branches into place. It watched him as he twisted the rope into loop, measuring out a space big enough for a deer's neck. It watched him as he baited the ground, anchored the snare, and set himself high into a neighboring tree not far from the game trail. Every movement, every action, every breath, Russel could feel weighed underneath the forest's eyeless gaze.
Unsettling, but not unwelcome. Russel knew what horrors could emerge from a silent wood. Better to be appraised than surprised.
The trees themselves seemed to be sapped of life as Russel navigated into their higher branches. Everything around him in this spirit-rich Sacred Forest drained of vibrance, of color, of brilliance as he ran his cursed hands over the study limbs of which sprang from the solid trunk. Slowly, steadily, Russel reached the security of the high branches of the canopy. He was far enough away that his carrion-scent would not be a deterrent to his trap, and that any unintended aspect of his malady would not affect the spirit dense forest. Here, amidst the peak of the branches, catching the gentle bend and sway of the trees, he would be hidden from his prey.
The forest may have had eyes everywhere, but he was more than certain that deer rarely looked up.
It was deer, and not attention, that would be Russel's quarry for this trial. Another notice had been issued to his garrison, requesting every able-bodied hunter to aide in mitigating an explosion in deer population. The youth figured it would be a good opportunity to sharpen some of the country skills he had let fall to the wayside when he enlisted all those cycles ago, and joined up with the litany of would-be rangers heading towards the Sacred Forest. Plus, the quiet of the wild air would do him some good. Chaos clung to him like a burr in the city, and over the last two weeks his life had changed rapidly.
Russel's mind always cleared in the woods. He hoped the time it took to hunt by snare would bring about some much needed clarity. With the trap already set, and the morning sun barely cresting beyond the horizon, Russel would indeed have breaks aplenty. Breaks to hide, breaks to think, and breaks to avoid the memory of his last encounter in the woods.
"G-gonna be a l-long trial," he sighed to the listening leaves. He tried not to notice that his hand was halfway to his own throat, tugging at the echo of a noose that still plagued his waking thoughts.
