The Hunter and the Pantomime
Posted: Mon Nov 04, 2019 11:14 pm
Vhalar 4th, 719
The day was bright, the sun livening the spirit. It was a good day, though Egaro spent much of the day trying to hunt the beasts of the area so he could possess them. Try as he might, Egaro was never a skilled hunter. On days like these, he sat upon the very rock he meditated upon in life, looking out into the lake lost in his thoughts, sorting them to the music of the rolling waves as his body vibrated naturally until he was barely visible like a wafting vapor of smoke up there with the bright sun obscuring much of his presence to onlookers below.
Something about the lake drew him in ever since he came to Rharne. He lived by its shores, and died in its waters, and now it seemed more important than ever that he guard his largest anchor, a protective bubble around the Lake Induk he was certain permeated the area. It felt soothing as he let his thoughts extend to the glittering surface of the distant water, faintly rekindling the passions of life in his soul.
The peace could only last so long. The stony walls of the crags that lined the shore echoed with the sorrowful music of two animals in a death struggle. That pitiful wailing called for him to stand and peer down the path, and with only a single moment of hesitation he began his descend down the rock wall, falling to the earth and jogging on over to the scene.
It was the standard vision of nature. The chuff of a big cat was the first sound that gave him a clue before he could see its earthen-colored body that so well served as camouflage against that backdrop of windwashed stone. Within its jaws was a dripping, fresh kill, a small fox, limp and bent to some impossible degree. This mountain lion had clearly made short work of the little animal, but Egaro respected the cycle of hunter and prey that permeated the world so cruelly. After all, there were often Anak that represented these animals.
Approaching slowly, he witnessed the felid beginning to trot its way up the path, so he followed more quickly. When it easily and gracefully bounded to the top of a stack of rocks and then jumped over to a gorge on the other side, he placed his hands at the wall and hoisted himself up, clambering to the top. Looking down at the scattered stone alcoves, he could no longer see the lion anywhere. It was gone, like a ghost.
Still curious, still hopeful he could find it, the ghost continued his journey and ducked beneath the damp overhang of a cave hollowed out by the high tide, eyes prying every nook and cranny of this place for the predator he wished to possess.
The day was bright, the sun livening the spirit. It was a good day, though Egaro spent much of the day trying to hunt the beasts of the area so he could possess them. Try as he might, Egaro was never a skilled hunter. On days like these, he sat upon the very rock he meditated upon in life, looking out into the lake lost in his thoughts, sorting them to the music of the rolling waves as his body vibrated naturally until he was barely visible like a wafting vapor of smoke up there with the bright sun obscuring much of his presence to onlookers below.
Something about the lake drew him in ever since he came to Rharne. He lived by its shores, and died in its waters, and now it seemed more important than ever that he guard his largest anchor, a protective bubble around the Lake Induk he was certain permeated the area. It felt soothing as he let his thoughts extend to the glittering surface of the distant water, faintly rekindling the passions of life in his soul.
The peace could only last so long. The stony walls of the crags that lined the shore echoed with the sorrowful music of two animals in a death struggle. That pitiful wailing called for him to stand and peer down the path, and with only a single moment of hesitation he began his descend down the rock wall, falling to the earth and jogging on over to the scene.
It was the standard vision of nature. The chuff of a big cat was the first sound that gave him a clue before he could see its earthen-colored body that so well served as camouflage against that backdrop of windwashed stone. Within its jaws was a dripping, fresh kill, a small fox, limp and bent to some impossible degree. This mountain lion had clearly made short work of the little animal, but Egaro respected the cycle of hunter and prey that permeated the world so cruelly. After all, there were often Anak that represented these animals.
Approaching slowly, he witnessed the felid beginning to trot its way up the path, so he followed more quickly. When it easily and gracefully bounded to the top of a stack of rocks and then jumped over to a gorge on the other side, he placed his hands at the wall and hoisted himself up, clambering to the top. Looking down at the scattered stone alcoves, he could no longer see the lion anywhere. It was gone, like a ghost.
Still curious, still hopeful he could find it, the ghost continued his journey and ducked beneath the damp overhang of a cave hollowed out by the high tide, eyes prying every nook and cranny of this place for the predator he wished to possess.
