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The Truth of the Hunter, Pt. 2


Selliel's hands moved cautiously from rock to rock. She knew she had to find the buck quickly. Once at the top, she could spot her prey and cut off its escape.

She grabbed at a root, hoisting herself to the next outcropping, but it gave way under her weight. As she fell, Selliel grabbed her hunting knife and thrust it into the earth wall.

The knife slowed her descent, but not enough. She slammed hard against a protruding rock, then half-bounced, half-slid into a small crevice cut into the cliffside. Stunned, Selliel smeared bloody hands against her breeches. Too much time had passed. The buck was certainly lost to her.

Selliel growled and spat upon the stone. Cautiously she regained her footing and once more began to climb. Handhold to handhold she went, always looking to the sky. Her path up the cliff face was soon marked with bloody handprints.

She finally crested the cliff and collapsed, gasping for breath. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped her as she rolled onto her side. Then she noticed the pair of yellow eyes in the brush, not twenty paces away.
Selliel sat up, never looking away from the wolf. It growled and lunged. She leapt aside and slashed with her knife, roaring in defiance. She would be no easy prey.

The wolf spun and bared its teeth, but hesitated. Selliel did not. She threw her knife. The blade slammed between the wolf's eyes. It fell lifeless to the ground.

Selliel breathed. She pulled her knife from the wolf and looked to the forest, seeking any sign of her prey. Movement, to the east. Antlers. She could still catch it.

She rushed into the forest.