A long day's hunting{{OPEN}}
Sept 13, 2010 18:06:42 GMT -5
Post by pintoness on Sept 13, 2010 18:06:42 GMT -5
Shrrrrrrrrrrk. Shrrrrrrrrrrrk. Shrrk. Shrk. Shrk. Shrkshrrrkshrk. That's the sound the wood made as I gathered speed, quickly shaving off the bark, then the wood, turning a staff into a spear. Glancing up every so often, my ears tuned to the smallest sound, from a rustle of leaves to a deer stepping on a twig. That's what happens when you live in the forest surrounding your district, your reflexes tune to the smallest things.
Like that! A flash goes by me; a deer rushing past. And the spear is finished, so I stand quickly, then run off towards the deer, my legs pumping, the bow and quivers on my back bouncing, the bag around my waist swinging, the various knives, makeshift or not, strapped round me tightly still, and me leaning forward, I run after the deer.
Another flash, to the right, my legs instinctively turn, smelling the smell of fear on the deer. Aha, I throw the spear and the deer falls. I draw a slightly longer than normal hunting knife, kneel in front of the deer, and slash quickly it's throat, pulling out the spear, then grabbing the rope from my bag and slashing some off, I tie the legs to the spear. Soon I am on my way to my makeshift hut further along, a large fallen log with smaller branches laid over that diagonally, even smaller branches across that, twigs across those, and lastly the leaves. It leaves me able to kneel, or sleep stretched out. I arrive, and put the deer up above the small fire pit I have, on a overhanging bare branch, then I quickly start the fire to smoke it.
The smell of the smoking deer is delicious, like music to a singer's ears. I lean back against the tree trunk, closing my eyes after a long day's work.
Like that! A flash goes by me; a deer rushing past. And the spear is finished, so I stand quickly, then run off towards the deer, my legs pumping, the bow and quivers on my back bouncing, the bag around my waist swinging, the various knives, makeshift or not, strapped round me tightly still, and me leaning forward, I run after the deer.
Another flash, to the right, my legs instinctively turn, smelling the smell of fear on the deer. Aha, I throw the spear and the deer falls. I draw a slightly longer than normal hunting knife, kneel in front of the deer, and slash quickly it's throat, pulling out the spear, then grabbing the rope from my bag and slashing some off, I tie the legs to the spear. Soon I am on my way to my makeshift hut further along, a large fallen log with smaller branches laid over that diagonally, even smaller branches across that, twigs across those, and lastly the leaves. It leaves me able to kneel, or sleep stretched out. I arrive, and put the deer up above the small fire pit I have, on a overhanging bare branch, then I quickly start the fire to smoke it.
The smell of the smoking deer is delicious, like music to a singer's ears. I lean back against the tree trunk, closing my eyes after a long day's work.
Totally Open! 
